She did.
I gasped.
“Elle Sterling, will you marry me and let me be a part of your and Clementine’s life?”
My jaw dropped. My body shook. Never in a million years was I expecting this. Happiness surged through me and I was fighting to hold back the tears. I couldn’t remember a time in my life ever feeling like this.
“Say yes, say no, say anything,” he said, sounding mildly distressed.
“Yes,” Clementine answered.
My laughter and joy turned into big, sobbing tears as I struggled to talk. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
The ring was the absolute most beautiful thing I had ever seen. “Logan, it’s exquisite,” I said through my tears.
He slid it on my finger and it fit perfectly. “It was my grandmother’s and before my grandfather died, he gave it to me and told me he wanted you to wear it. Somehow, some way, he knew you were made for me.”
I threw my arms around him and Clementine and found his lips. “That’s because he knew we were made for each other.”
When Clementine would have no more of being constrained, Logan opened the door and handed her to his father. Then he turned back and honked the horn. As if it was a signal, everyone let go of their red balloons.
Clementine was clapping her little hands together like it was a show.
I watched as the sky filled with my favorite color. The color I always saw as hope.
“You ready to say goodbye?” he asked.
I nodded. I knew we wouldn’t be saying goodbye forever. There would be visits. But it was time to go.
The three of us were starting a new life together away from the madness of Boston. I never in my life would have thought I’d have a family of my own. I never in my life would have thought I could be so happy. But here I sat in my new car, with my new fiancé, and my newly court-appointed daughter, and life couldn’t be any sweeter.
The sorrow that brought us here would always remain in my heart, but I wouldn’t wear it on my sleeve.
I was stronger than that.
We held hands and watched through the windshield until we couldn’t see any more balloons, and then we turned toward each other.
Logan ran his finger over the slight scar on my cheek.
I ran mine down the one under his eye.
War wounds.
Tragic memories from our past that we would never forget but together would be able to put behind us.
Together.
Not apart.
Not alone.
Together.
DAY 275
LOGAN
Brooklyn is the place we call home.
Here, I found myself no longer divided between worlds.
My grandfather Ryan owned an authentic brownstone built around the turn of the century by his father’s father and when he heard how much Elle loved the architecture of Beacon Hill, he gave it to Elle and me as a wedding gift.
It’s odd because before I met Elle, I never wanted to get married, but with her, I couldn’t even tell you anymore why.
We married in the Botanical Gardens with fewer than thirty guests. We both decided on something small and meaningful. The vows we recited included Clementine, and she even stood up at the altar with us.
My father had moved to Brooklyn as well, and together we opened McPherson and Son Family Law.
Elle chose to run her online boutique from home to be closer to Clementine and I try to stay home one, sometimes two days a week to pull my share and give her time. She loves her life and her circle of friends. She’s even recruited them to help her. Phoebe, Lindsay, and Lily go with her as she combs through antique stores looking for the best of the best.
I’d been thinking about my grandfather Killian a lot lately. He was a man of great wisdom and guidance. Sure, I knew he was an outlaw, but that was a part of his life I never saw. To me he was one of a kind. A man who loved his grandson. And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. I’m thankful, though, for the time he spent with me because those memories are what will keep him alive in my mind forever.
There’s this pizza place in Brooklyn called Paulie Gee’s. Elle and I took Clementine there last week.
It was then that I saw it on the menu, and for the first time since my grandfather’s death, I laughed at the thought of him. “Forget the pepperoni, kid,” he used to say, “Corned beef is the way to go.”
I would never try it and always made a face in disgust.
Today, I came here alone. “I’ll have the pizza with corned beef,” I said to the waitress.
She was older and smiled. “You must be Irish.”
I nodded, proud of my roots.
As I waited for my pizza, I pulled the note from my pocket that was in the safety deposit box along with the ring. Do not open this until you smile when you think of me was written across it.
I set it on the table. He had given his life for what I’d done and that was one guilt I’d never shed.