Three months later, we got married.

It was a private little ceremony on a deserted beach with sweeping cliffs and sandy shores – me barefoot in a silky white dress, and Jack in jeans and a black t-shirt. My parents were there, along with my sister and a couple of friends from LA. Kade was the best man, although there was a conspicuous absence of anybody else on the groom’s side.

I thought of Ali the entire day. In fact, my ‘something old’ was a photograph of her and me as kids. I might have lost my photos in the fire, but my mother was able to make copies of some of them from our family albums. It was the best wedding present she could have possibly given me.

Ali’s absence hurt, but the pain had mellowed now. Her killer had paid for his crimes, and it seemed to me that she was finally at rest.

Or maybe the part of me that had hung on to her was at rest. Either way, I was finally letting go: of the pain… of the past… of her.

It felt good to heal.

Sid was at the wedding, too, grumpy as always. “I finally found a good PI,” he complained to anybody who would listen to him, “and then she goes off and falls for some motorcycle gang hoodlum. Who still owes me money.”

At least he didn’t mention anything about “bonin’”.

At the reception, though, Jack presented him with a check for the remainder of the ‘Friend Prices.’ Fordham had been as good as his word, and the insurance money for Jack’s house and shop came through – not to mention payments for his Harley, truck, and my car.

It was a lot of money. Enough to start a new life.

Once Sid got his money, he couldn’t have been happier. And he made it a point to show everybody the check. “He ain’t so bad – and, hell, it’s an open bar.”

 My family wasn’t happy that I was marrying a biker, but I told them that they could either come and be happy for me, or they could stay at home. Either way, I was getting married.

They came. Of course, when my sister and mother met Jack, they understood right away. With a guy that hot, any woman would.

My dad took a little while longer to come around… but Sid helped him see the light over a bottle of scotch.

We ate and drank for a while at a little crab and beer joint we’d rented on the water. Then, a couple hours later, Jack and I got on his brand-new Harley, and Kade got on his bike, and we rode away in a shower of rice thrown by Sid and my family.

We traced the beautiful line of the coast, and then Kade peeled off for our new hometown by the seaside while Jack and I continued north on our honeymoon.

We stopped for dinner at a romantic little place on the water, and watched the sun set over the ocean in a fiery display of purple- and orange-tinted clouds.

After dinner, as twilight turned the sky a deep violet, we came out to find a young guy in his early 20’s staring at Jack’s shiny new Harley. The bike – freshly bought with insurance money just a few days before – stood out amongst the cars in the lot.

The kid was tatted up with long hair, though he had a fresh innocence to his wide eyes. His old, dinged-up motorcycle was parked nearby.

“Can I help you?” Jack asked. I could tell he was tense – which made me tense. Could this stranger be a ghost from his past? Maybe a hired gun out for revenge?

“That’s a beautiful bike,” the kid said, reverence in his voice.

“Thanks,” Jack said, relaxing. He gestured to the kid’s ride. “Nice Panhead.”

“Eh,” the kid said, and shrugged. “It’s pretty beat up.”

“It’s a classic, though. Gotta admire the classics.”

“Yeah…” The kid looked at Jack’s leathers. They still had the Midnight Riders insignia on them, even though the club was basically dead. “Are you in an MC?”

“Once upon a time.”

“What happened?”

“A lot of bad things.”

“But a couple of really good things, too,” I countered, and Jack looked at me with a smile.

“Did you leave the club?” the kid asked.

Jack shook his head. “The club left me more than I left it. I was president for a while… and then it was over.”

“Huh,” the kid said, and watched as we got on the Harley. “Do you live around here?”

“About an hour south, down near Timber Cove.”

“Cool… do you think you might start another MC some day?” he asked hopefully.

Jack looked at me. “I don’t know – what do you think?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Maybe,” Jack agreed, with the smallest trace of a smile.

“If you do… do you think I could join?” the kid asked.

“I don’t know. You ever dealt drugs or run guns? You ever shot or stabbed somebody? You ever been to prison?”

“No,” the kid said, obviously crestfallen. “No, I haven’t.”

“Good,” Jack nodded. “Then you got a shot at getting in.”

“Ha,” the kid said with a grin. “Cool… well… maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. Maybe you will.”

We watched the kid take off, and then Jack looked back around at me. “You ready, Mrs. Pollari?”

“I’m ready, Mr. Pollari.”

He kissed me, and then we put on our helmets and he fired up the engine. We rode out of the parking lot – the last glowing traces of the sunset on our left, and the future up the road ahead.