Epilogue

“And we lived happily ever after.”

Aidan turned his head toward Kate and broke into a grin. She was looking down at her left hand, absent-mindedly spinning the circle-cut solitaire ring that she had worn for 40 years now. She smiled mistily as she looked up and met his eyes.

“The end,” she said.

“That’s it?” The little girl on Aidan’s lap looked up at him, unsatisfied. “But what happened after that?”

“Oh, the usual,” he replied. "Marriage. Kids. You know how it goes."

“But did you ride away on a white horse?”

“White horse, huh? Is that how it’s supposed to end?” Aidan began bouncing his knees up and down, eliciting a childish squeal of delight. He winked at his wife over the top of the little girl’s head. “Pretty sure Buttercup rode away on something that night.…”

“Aidan!” Kate shot him a warning look.

He laughed and stilled his legs again, bringing the horsey ride to an end. “On my tour bus,” he said, still chuckling. “We rode away on the tour bus. Grandma came along for the whole 30-city tour.”

“And then did you buy her the house in Beverly Hills?”

Aidan watched his wife break into a scowl.

“Open house,” she muttered. "Grandpa was in deep trouble when I found out about that trick he played on me.”

“Major trouble,” Aidan confirmed. “What happened to that house? We were supposed to buy it, weren’t we?”

“Don’t you remember?” Kate replied.

He shook his head.

“The home inspection was a total nightmare.”

“Oh right.” He sighed as the memory came back to him. “Cracks in the foundation.”

“I’m pretty sure it ended up getting torn down.”

“Can you imagine if we’d actually gotten engaged there?” Aidan suppressed a shudder. “Talk about not meant to be.”

“At least the Beverly Hilton is still standing,” Kate replied. She came toward him and reached out to take her granddaughter’s hand as she spoke.

“Better be,” he said, following behind as Kate turned and led the way upstairs. “I'm pretty sure you personally kept it in business, between the pay-per-view and the room service bill.”

“Aidan, how long is it going to take for me to live that down?”

“Fourteen thousand dollars,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “On pizza.”

“It was nowhere near 14 thousand dollars!”

“Just about!”

She rolled her eyes at him as they reached the little bedroom that had once served as a nursery. The crib was long gone now, replaced with a twin bed for grandchildren sleeping over.

“It was good pizza,” Kate said to him over her shoulder as she helped her granddaughter climb into the bed.

“Yeah, yeah," he replied. "NY-style.”

Kate leaned forward to pull up the covers. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said. "Sweet dreams."

“Goodnight, Grandma.”

Aidan came forward to kiss his granddaughter lightly on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Grandpa.”

“Night night,” he replied. “Now promise you won’t tell your mother how late we let you stay up.”

“I won’t,” she promised. Her eyes were already drifting closed. “Will you tell me another story, Grandpa?”

“Not tonight, little girl.”

“Tell me the one about when my mommy was little.”

“Tomorrow,” he said softly. “That’s a story for another day.”

Kate switched out the lights and began making her way toward the door. Aidan followed, catching up with her at the top of the stairs.

“And how about this little girl?” he asked as he slipped his arms around her.

“How about her?” She slid her hands across his chest, smoothing the fabric of the old t-shirt he was wearing.

“Could I interest you in some NY-style thin crust pizza, perhaps?”

“Don’t start,” she said. She tapped him on the chest with her index finger. “I swear I never ordered it again after that night. Not once.”

He tightened his arms around her waist and drew her body against him. “You weren't homesick after that?”

“I guess not," she replied. A faraway look passed over her face for a moment before she smiled and met his eyes again. "You know why that is, right?”

He shook his head. "Why?"

“Because home is where the heart is.”

“OK Grandma," he said with a groan. "Why don’t you go crochet that on a pillow.”

She let her jaw drop open in feigned indignation. "I will never crochet," she said. "I don’t care how old I am.”

“Kate, we talked about this. We made a list, remember?”

“What?”

“Age-appropriate activities.” He began ticking off items on his fingers. “Crochet. Mahjong. Early bird special at the Denny's—“

“Pretty sure Denny's went out of business, dear.” She took his hand and began leading him away from the staircase and down the hallway instead. “Come on.”

“Bedtime?”

“I thought of another activity for your list.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Scrabble?”

“No, not Scrabble.”

“Golf?”

“Come to bed, Aidan.”

“We’re going to bed at 8:30 now, huh?” He nodded. “I guess that is pretty geriatric.”

“Get in here, Grandpa.”

“Hold on. I left my Snuggie somewhere—”

“Aidan!”

“So impatient!”

“Do I get to live happily ever after or don’t I?”

“Forty years wasn’t enough for you?”

Kate shook her head. “No," she said. "Not quite."

She kicked the bedroom door with the back of her heel, and she laced her arms around his neck as her husband bent his head to kiss her. “Aidan," she whispered, her words punctuated by the sound of the door clicking closed behind her.  "We may be older than sin, but we’re not dead just yet.”

THE END