Epilogue
Two years later
“You know,” I said to Grant as I reached out to take his hand. “Sometimes I still can’t believe that we’re living in my old house. Like I’m aware of it, obviously, but then sometimes it hits me and takes me by surprise.”
“Do you like it here?” he asked. “I mean, are you glad that I did this?”
“Are you kidding me? I couldn’t ask for a better house. And, I like living with you.”
“I like living with you too. Especially when you go to sleep like that,” he said and lifted up the covers to look at me.
I chuckled. The night before we’d fallen asleep after a rather vigorous love-making session, and I was now completely naked, as was he. He was right; it was a nice way to fall asleep.
“I also like that after two years of being together, our sex life is still this good.”
“I’d go as far as saying it’s even better,” he said.
“Patriot and Audrey are alive and kicking.”
“Now, what can I get you eat, my lovely girlfriend?”
“You’re making me breakfast?” I asked. To this day, Grant was not the best in the kitchen. He’d tried a few times, but he was never very good.
“Surprisingly, I can actually make peanut butter on toast without burning anything down. Unless you want me to attempt something a bit more extravagant today?”
“No, let’s stick to the peanut butter,” I said and grinned. He’d once managed to burn an entire batch of scrambled eggs. This was a safe bet.
“Okay, give me five minutes and meet me downstairs.”
I stretched out when he left and sighed happily. It had taken almost a full year to finish building the house. Mostly because there had been issues with contractors, and all sorts of other things that we hadn’t considered at the time. But Brady was patient enough to let Grant stay with him in that time, especially with Grant helping at the ranch so much. And I stayed in my house. But six months after moving in, he’d invited me to live with him, and I couldn’t say no. It still felt so much like my house, even though much of it had changed. And anyway, I was spending more time at the house with Grant then I was in my own house. It had been a big move, but a good one. I couldn’t imagine living on my own anymore now that I lived with him. We gelled well together, and so far hadn’t gotten on each other’s nerves.
I climbed out of bed, put my robe on and made my way to one of my favorite parts of the house. Grant knew how much I loved the kitchen in my other house, and so he’d fashioned this one to look the same. It even had a bright yellow wall. I’d cried when I’d seen it, and to this day it makes me smile.
“Morning wall,” I said as I did every morning.
Grant laughed and handed me my breakfast. He’d slathered on so much peanut butter that there was more of it then there was bread. I held it up in admiration.
“I do like the way you make this,” I said and smiled. “Thank you. So, what are you doing today?”
“Actually, I have to work at the ranch for most of the day. But I’ll be back to get you later. I’m taking you for dinner.”
“Oooh, you are? That’s cool. Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry about the details. Just get ready by, say, six this evening.”
I smiled. “A secret rendezvous. This is exciting.”
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and went out to meet Terra for a quick coffee. Despite seeing her every day at work, we were constantly meeting up for coffee and wine. When I told her about the dinner that night, she gave a funny smile that I couldn’t quite understand and told me that I was going to have a great time. When I asked her if she knew where I was going, she said she couldn’t confirm or deny it. I assumed Grant had asked her for ideas. He was always phoning Terra when he wanted to do something for me. He knew that she was the number one person I went to and that she knew more about me than most people did. After meeting with Terra, I called my father, and we had a long conversation about his upcoming novel. He also invited me to come and stay with him the following weekend, to which I eagerly agreed. Every now and again we’d talk about him leaving when I was a child, but for the most part, it didn’t actually come up anymore. We’d moved past that, and I’d accepted the fact that he’d made a mistake. We were constantly working on our relationship, and I just felt happy to have a father in my life again.
At exactly six that evening, Grant showed up. I was surprised to see that he was all dressed up. Grant had become very casual since moving to Buffalo, but that was mostly because everyone else around him was so casual. And he suited the casual look. But still, he looked incredibly handsome standing in front of me in a suit and tie.
“Oh wow. You look amazing,” I said. “You got dressed there?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I knew getting Brady to build a bathroom at the ranch would pay off. So, are you ready for our date?”
“I sure am.”
“Come on, hop in the car. And Emily, you look absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said. His compliments still made me happy.
“Oh no, I forgot my wallet at the ranch,” he said as we were just about to take off.
I laughed. “Is this your way of getting me to pay?”
“Ooh, I didn’t think of that. I’ll remember that for the future. Nah, it’s okay. We can swing by really quick before we head out. Anyway, there’s something I wanted to show you there. Might as well just show you tonight. It’s something I’ve been working on.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“Oh, you’ll see. It’s hard to explain. You know Brady and I. We’re always working on things to make the ranch more efficient.”
We got to the ranch and climbed out of the car. Grant took my hand and led me toward the barn. I’d been there a few times over the past few years, and I was always impressed with how much hard work went into making the ranch work. Grant and Brady were two of the most hardworking men I’d ever met. And while Grant worked full time with the fire department, he still spent a lot of his time helping out at the ranch. He loved it. The door was closed, so Grant got out his key and opened it. The moment the doors opened I gasped.
The entire barn had been transformed. Candles had been placed all around, and in the middle was a table and chairs, with champagne and a wide selection of food. It looked absolutely beautiful.
“What? You did this?” I asked.
“Yeah, this is where I wanted to take you tonight. I call this Restaurant Maxwell.”
“Oh, I love it here. I’ve heard rave reviews about this place, you know,” I said and chuckled. “I hear the owner is pretty damn hot.”
“Oh yeah? Come on, take a seat,” he said and gestured toward the table in the middle.
I kicked off my shoes, which seemed pointless in the barn, and walked barefoot to the table. I sat down and giggled as Grant poured a glass of champagne for me. He poured one for himself and sat down beside me.
“This is amazing, Grant. I still can’t believe that you did all this.”
He laughed. “And you thought I was working today. Nope, this is what I’ve been up to all day. I even convinced Brady to help me put it together.”
“Oh, I’m sure he loved that. This is incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it. I was so nervous all day, but I’m glad it all came together. Emily, I never thought I would ever find someone like you. I never thought that I’d ever be as happy as I am right now. For a long time, I just thought I was doomed to be a lonely man. I honestly believed that. But you showed me a different side to life. You showed me how to relax, how to laugh, and how to enjoy every moment of my life. Hell, your house got burned down and you still saw the good in life. You’ve shown me a whole new side of things, and I never want to let you go. I love you so much. I wanted to do something for you to show you how much you mean to me. I want you to know that I appreciate you and that I don’t take you for granted.”
“I love you too, Grant. And you’ve made me the happiest woman in the world. You don’t need to do anything to prove your love for me. Honestly.”
“I know. But I want to. Emily Audrey Wessler, will you marry me?”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. The tears came rushing down my face. Even though he’d gone out of his way to put this all together for me, I still hadn’t realized it was part of a proposal. No wonder Terra had looked so mischievous today. She clearly knew what was about to happen.
“Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.”
He pulled out a small box and opened it up. Inside lay a small silver band with three blue diamonds. He’d told me so many times that blue was the color that looked best on me. And this ring was the exact color of my eyes, which I knew was no mistake.
“Oh, Grant. It’s beautiful,” I said as he slipped it on.
“And so are you,” he said. “And, of course, tonight we are celebrating with lots of food and lots of champagne. And yes, there’s lots of cheese and bacon. And, in case you’re wondering, I didn’t cook a thing. So you’ll be glad to know that none of the food is burned.”
I chuckled. “This is perfect.”
“Oh, but there’s one more thing,” he said and reached under the table to retrieve a box and handed it to me. The box was about the size of a shoe box, but incredibly light.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Open it.”
I opened it up and pulled out the cutest bunny slippers that I’d ever seen in my whole life.
“Bunny slippers,” I whispered. “How did you know?” I’d never told Grant about my bunny slippers, which I used to wear all the time. I’d lost them in the fire and hadn’t been able to bring myself to buy another pair.
He laughed. “It’s a funny story, actually. Remember the first day I moved in with Brady? Well, I caught you peeping out from behind your car.”
“What? You did? I didn’t know you saw me! Oh, that’s so embarrassing. I remember you turning your head, but I thought I ducked down just in time.”
“You didn’t do it in time. I was just about to wave to you, but you ducked down under your car. It was pretty funny, and rather adorable to be honest. I couldn’t see any of you except your feet.”
“My bunny slippers!”
He smiled. “And after that, all I wanted to know was who the cute girl with the bunny slippers was. You had me intrigued from the very first day.”
I put them on and stood up to show him. “They’re even better than my last ones. They’re perfect. Thank you, Grant. This is by far the best proposal ever.”
“I love you, Bunny Girl.”
“I love you, Patriot.”
“Patriot, huh?” he said and winked at me.
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MY ROCK BOX SET
By Alycia Taylor
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
MY ROCK #1
Chapter One
Elly
I had been telling myself all day that I was a professional, twenty-two year old woman and silly, old crushes should be just that…..but my infatuation with Tristan had gone a little bit deeper than just a silly crush. Granted, I was only twelve when I first discovered his boy band, called Uptown Boyz, but from the ages of twelve to fifteen, Tristan, the leader and oldest member of the band, was my everything. I went to sleep every night and woke up every morning to his beautiful face. I had borrowed our neighbor’s ladder one day when I was home alone and I’d tacked my poster of him to the ceiling above my bed. It was the best birthday present I ever got—my best friend, Lucy, knew me well. It was there for two years and I don’t think either of my parents ever even noticed it.
I carried my lunch in an Uptown Boyz lunchbox. I had to hide it in my backpack all through middle and high school because I got a lot of flak about it, but I still carried it to show my dedication. I spent every dime I was able to save from my allowance and babysitting gigs on their new CD’s, and every little girl fantasy I had about growing up and getting married casted Tristan in the starring role as the groom.
I can’t even describe how devastated I was when I heard they broke up. I can still recall exactly where I was and what I was doing. I was at the mall with Lucy, just hanging out at the food court, when I heard some girl say that Uptown Boyz was no more.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I’d asked her. My heart was pounding and my head felt light.
“Uptown Boyz broke up.” She delivered the news with a shrug of her shoulders. As though this was no big deal.
“Are you sure?” I asked, convinced this had to be a mistake or some stupid hoax. They are always saying celebrities have died when they are alive and well—I held out hope that this was the same kind of thing.
She rolled her eyes and took on a condescending tone. “Yeah, I’m positive. I just heard it on the radio before I came in here. The DJ said that Tristan Rogers was going into rehab for, like, the third time, or something ridiculous like that. The rest of the band just got tired of him always screwing up.”
It was like a slap in the face. “But without him, they wouldn’t have been anything. They’re glorified back-up singers,” I told her. Lucy was pulling on my arm, trying to get me to get serious about shopping. I spent the rest of the shopping trip in a haze, unable to focus on anything besides the breakup. Then I went home and fixated on it the rest of evening. In truth, it took me months to quietly recover, but I finally did, and I moved on…or at least I had thought.
Until that night. There I was, seven years later, sitting in a back corner of a seedy bar called Huggys that I’d otherwise never had gone inside of. Why was I there? Because I’d read in a tiny, obscure ad in the L. A. Times that Tristan Rogers was playing this bar with his new band. I had tried to resist. I tried telling myself that I was much too old and mature to dwell on old boy-band crushes. I obviously hadn’t listened, because there I sat. I had come alone for fear of tarnishing the view people had of me. My friends were mostly young professionals in the music and television business and I couldn’t think of one of them who would have approved of this place or the people I was now surrounded by—not even if I tried to play it off as some adventure into irony.
I sat with my back to the wall on a high stool, sipping my Jack and Coke, hoping that Tristan would come out soon so I could satisfy my age-old curiosity and go home. I had looked him up off and on over the years, searching for any information about him or his band. I didn’t obsess over him any longer, but every now and then when I got bored, I just checked to see if I could find any information about him. What I’d been able to find had been snippets here and there about the band. This one got arrested and that one came out as being gay—all of it pretty typical, but none of it helpful. But the information on Tristan was few and far between. The first couple of years after the band broke up, he’d gotten out of rehab, dated an heiress for a while, and then a B-list actress. He’d gotten picked up on a DUI and had to serve community service and do rehab again. Sadly, his music seemed to have all but died. The day I saw the ad about his band in the bar, I wasn’t looking for him at all. I had actually bought the paper to look at job openings, and, when I had opened the paper, there it was. I let my over-active imagination think that maybe it was fate and that was one more silly reason that I found myself sitting in a bar that was the namesake of a brand of diapers.
The advertisement hadn’t mentioned Tristan’s previous connection to Uptown Boyz. It advertised his new band as “new age rock”—a far cry from the kind of music he used to sing. I ran my finger around the rim of my drink, waiting. The lights in the already dim bar went down and a spotlight lit up the stage. A woman that looked to be about thirty-five with long, obviously bleached platinum blonde hair and dressed in black from head to toe came on the stage. She was so thin that it wouldn’t have even taken a strong wind to blow her over, just a light breeze. She walked up to the microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, hello and thanks for coming to Huggys tonight. I’m Mandy Silva, the owner of Huggys, along with my hunky husband, Ray, who is over there behind the bar.”
I glanced over at the bar. The only bartender that I’d seen tonight was a young stud that looked like he should have been the star of Magic Mike. He was still the only one behind the bar. I looked from him to the skinny, slightly torn up woman and I had to wonder what the attraction was.
“I hope you’re all having a great time and getting your drink on. We have a real treat for you tonight, so I won’t stand here and bore you any longer. Without further ado, I give you Tristan and the Mister Rogers band.”
The lights started changing colors and smoke floated up from beside the stage as a drummer, and a bass player took their positions on stage. The audience clapped, some hooped and hollered, and I waited for Tristan. The band fired up and it was a good two minutes into the song before he came bursting through a curtain hung along the back of the stage. If I hadn’t known it was him, I would have never recognized him.
First off, he came out screaming and banging on his guitar. I’m assuming the noise he was making was supposed to be singing, but it didn’t sound anything like the beautiful voice that I remembered. Secondly, the four young men that made up the band the Uptown Boyz were famous not only for their extraordinary talent at such young ages, but for their sense of style. They were trendsetters for tweens, and when they performed, they usually wore starch white or brightly colored t-shirts and casually faded designer jeans. Tristan always wore a silver cross that dangled from his neck and stood out against whatever color shirt he happened to be wearing. He never took it off back then. Their hair was always stylishly mussed or spiked up and they had that scrubbed, fresh-faced look that mother’s and little girls both loved.
Tonight, he wore jeans, but instead of a designer brand, they looked like he’d borrowed them off of one of the homeless men I’d seen on my way into the place. They had huge holes in them—not stylish ones—and they hung low on his hips, like he’d dropped a pants size since he’d bought them. He wore them tucked into his lace-up black leather motorcycle boots that ended just below his knee. He was also wearing a plain black t-shirt and the silver cross necklace was absent. His arms had tattoos from shoulder to wrist and his hair was messy, long and greasy. His face was still familiar, and still handsome, but a lot thinner than it used to be. His arms were still muscular, but it was very lean muscle. If I had to put a label on his build, I’d have to say where he used to be somewhat stocky he had become wiry.
Seeing him that night, there and in this state, was somewhat….surreal.
He sang a few of his screaming, head-banging songs, still slamming his hand up and down against his guitar and between each set he’d slam down another drink or two that someone off stage would hand him. The whole show was more slamming than singing, and every memory I had of him was pretty much shattered. Dejected, I took money out of my wallet to pay my tab and stood up. At that exact moment, he finally slowed things down and strummed his guitar beautifully as he sang a ballad. His voice was raspier than I remembered it, but I could finally hear the old Tristan—the one I fell in love with as a girl. He proved that he could still really sing when he wanted to.