Epilogue

One year later

“Congratulations, Mrs. Porter.” Kyle clinked his champagne flute against mine.

I took a slow sip, savoring the robust flavor. I wanted to remember every single moment of this day. From waking up as the sun lightened my bedroom, to slipping my feet into Lilly’s red heels and then down the aisle with my arm looped through my father’s.

I wanted to forget last year. My desire for Renn had powered me through hour upon hour at my computer, writing as fast as possible.

Once finished, I had been relentless in getting my screenplay in the hands of the right people.

Now, one year to the day since Renn and I had attempted our time travel, my screenplay, The Time Traveling Matchmaker, was in production at a major studio.

And I was a bride.

After a grueling six-month trial, Natasha had been convicted and was serving three consecutive life sentences. Renn assured me she would never get out on parole.

As for Arlianna, Renn was hopeful. He had received a cryptic message from her a few weeks ago.

From across the reception hall, a burst of laughter caught my attention. Renn and my father stood together, both with a cherry pop tucked in the corner of their mouth.

I still couldn’t get over seeing Renn without his trench coat. Today, he looked exceptionally handsome in the light grey tux Kyle had helped him buy. It hugged his body in all the right places. A pleasurable warmth spread through me as I imagined undressing him later this evening.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” Kyle nodded in Renn’s direction. “Look at us. Married people. Who would have thought?

“Where is your Mrs. Time Traveler?” I asked.

“Mingling,” Kyle said. “Zoe loves to talk.”

“She’s fitting in then?”

Kyle nodded. “More than I expected. She doesn’t remember anything. Just like your father, she has these recurring dreams. Hers are about protesting the Vietnam war, and she wakes up disoriented and sad. And don’t get me started on technology.”

“But you’re happy?”

Kyle beamed at me. “More than ever. Ah, here he is.”

Renn joined us, putting his arm around me. “Hello, my beautiful bride.”

I leaned into his chest, inhaling that lemon scent I’d come to love, feeling the tingles work their way through my body to my groin. It was all I could do to contain myself.

“Congratulations, my man.” Kyle slapped Renn on the back. “I wish the two of you all the happiness this time has to offer.”

“How was Hawaii?” Renn asked.

“Amazing. Fancy drinks with little umbrellas. Sun. Surf. Where are you guys going on your honeymoon?” Kyle asked.

“That’s up to my wife.” Renn turned to me.

Wife. It still didn’t seem real.

“Can we go anywhere in time?” I asked “Do you have someplace special in mind?”

“Maybe”

Right now, I was happy to be where I was. The room radiated with lightness. My grandmother sat talking to Uncle Joe. Her hands sliced through the air with their conversation. Aunt Beth danced with my grandfather. She caught my eye and smiled. At a table, Lilly chatted with Nola and Ashley. My mind slipped my mom into each frame. “I wanna dance with somebody.” Whitney Houston’s voice filled the hall.

“May I have this dance?” Pa extended his hand. “Do you mind?” he asked Renn.

“No, sir,” Renn said.

I took my father’s hand as he led me onto the dance floor. He spun me into a twirl and then pulled me close to his chest.

“You know, little lady,” Pa said. “Your wedding reminds me of the day I married your mother.”

“Me, too.”

As we danced, images of my parents’ wedding played through my mind. The beach setting. The stars. The salty air. My mother’s radiance. Maybe I was a lot like mother.

“I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“I won’t be gone that long.” Pa kissed the top of my head. “I’ll do my takes, wrap it up, and I’ll be home by Thanksgiving. I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise,” I said.

“I know. But I want to. Do me one favor.”

“Anything.”

“I know you are going somewhere special for your honeymoon, and for some reason I think I know why,” my dad spoke in a wistful tone.

“If it’s possible.” I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but I felt his arms tighten around my back.

“When you get there…” Pa leaned closer. With the scent of cherry on his breath, he whispered in my ear. “Tell your mother I’ll always love her.”

THE END

A word about the author…

Janie Emaus believes when the world is falling apart, we’re just one laugh away from putting it together again. Her stories, essays, and poems have been published in numerous magazines, on websites, and in anthologies. In 2016, she won honorary mention in the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. To learn more about Janie, visit her website at janieemaus.com.