“Thanks to you,” she adds, batting her eyelashes.
I bite my lower lip and shake my head. “No. You won of your own accord, Evelyn. I helped nudge you in the right direction, but you did all of the leg work.”
She looks down, quiet for a moment. “It could’ve easily gone the other way. It does, for a lot of the other girls. Drugs, alcohol, prostitution… it’s all they know, so they go back to what feels like home. But you made sure I never went down that path. So, while you say it was all me, while you say I was driving the ship… youweremy ship.”
I grab her and pull her into me, inhaling the scent of bergamot from her hair. Nothing could tear me away from her, and I vow to show her just how strong she is for the rest of my life, if she’ll have me. I was born into a broken family, shaped by a monster. Little did I know how monstrous he actually was to women like Evelyn. I’ll never take her for granted, never stop worshipping the ground she walks on… all because she gave me a chance.
Evelyn gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom, and I watch her go, thinking of what must be going through her head to be here—in the same damn room, too. But then she stops in the doorway and turns to look at me over her shoulder, her blonde hair spilling between her exposed shoulder blades. And I realize, I shouldn’t ever doubt her recovery. This woman—she’s the strongest person I know. Despite what life threw at her, first with her deadbeat parents, and then with Auguste and everything that entailed. She was resilient. She’d endured the worst things a woman can endure, metaphorical bullets and knife wounds to her heart, to her soul. But she kept on going. She kept clawing her way out of the darkness, one day at a time.
Not a monster, like she once called herself—but a fighter.
A warrior.
AQueen.
Epilogue, Part One
Evelyn Snow
Oxford,Four Years Later
“I know, I know, I’m late,” I mutter as I walk through the front door with an arm full of notebooks. I close it with my hip and wander over to the table, dropping the fifty or so notebooks with a loud crash. “My class ran over, and then one of the students had a question, and ugh,” I mutter, dropping my backpack and plopping into a chair. It feels divine to be off my feet for the first time all day. I turn to Benedict. “Sorry, how are you?”
He’s leaning against the door that goes into our kitchen with a cup of tea, smirking. His beard is grown out, and his hair a bit longer than normal. I keep meaning to give him a haircut, but between my dissertation, teaching, and research, I’m all tapped out. Going for my doctorate was the best decision I ever made… or the craziest. Nothing about grad school is easy—my days are chaotic and hectic, busy and packed full of things. Luckily, that all ends in two weeks when I finish teaching for the semester,andI graduate with a doctorate in Theology and Religion. I will beDoctorEvelyn Snow. I love the sound of it.
“Have you checked your email today?” he asks, running his hand through his hair.
I exhale loudly. “No. I haven’t had a chance. Why?” I reach for my purse, pulling my phone out. “Fuck. My battery is nearly dead. Can I borrow yours?”
He walks over, and I glance at him and wiggle my eyebrows. He’s wearing jeans and an unbuttoned button-down, showing off his muscled abdomen. He’s still built like he was when we started dating—anddatingis such a trivial word for what happened to us—but now, instead of being honed and chiseled, he’s softer. Still muscled, but with a more fluid look. His beard is speckled with some grey, though to me, he still looks exactly the same as he did when I met him. His eyes are twinkling as he bends down to give me a kiss.
“But first, I want to know how your day was,” he says, his voice husky.
I shrug, kicking my boots off. “It was good. Really good, actually.” I smile as his arms weave around my neck, pulling me into him. “Now let me see your phone, because my curiosity is piqued.”
He chuckles and hands his phone to me. “Go into my email,” he commands, taking a sip of tea. “There’s something from the adoption agency.”
I nearly drop my phone. “What?” My heart races as I scroll through his emails. My hands shake, and I fumble so badly that I hand the phone to him. “Oh my god, what did they say? I can’t find the fucking email,” I exclaim, my voice breaking. “Can you do it?”
I hear him chuckle as he comes around and kneels in front of me, handing me his phone again. I glance at the email, seeing the sender as ‘Adopt Thames Valley.’ My hands are shaking as I read the email, one hand going over my mouth as my eyes scroll through the words in the email.
“Please call us within twenty-four hours,”and“Young boy, aged 4 months.”
I weep. My vision blurs as Benedict’s phone drops to the ground.
“They found a baby for us?” I whisper, and when I look at Benedict, his eyes are swimming with tears.
“They found a baby,” he whispers, taking my hands and placing them on his chest. “A boy. He’s in West Berkshire. Four months old. They called me and I knew you were in class and—”
I burst out crying, tears streaming from my face. “A boy! Oh my god, he’s nearly Hugo’s age, then,” I add, referring to Salem and Lily’s third child.
“A baby, Evelyn,” Benedict croons. His cheeks are wet as I lean forward to kiss him.
“A baby,” I answer.
“How soon can you be ready to go meetour baby?” he asks, a large smile breaking out on his face.
I jump up quickly as he hands me my shoes, and we both rush around, grabbing a phone charger for me, some water, snacks for the road, and anything else we may need.
