Series Epilogue

After wrapping up the series with I Knew You Were Trouble, I wanted to write a ‘where are they now?’ series epilogue to see what each of our five couples are up to.

IMPORTANT: IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE ENTIRE SERIES, MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW.

The following year

Kate and Willem

‘This is impossible,’ I say, my eyes scanning the rows of enclosures. ‘How are we supposed to choose? Can’t we just adopt them all?’

Willem’s rich, resonant laugh rumbles through the air. ‘I’d say yes, but we really only have room for one.’

‘Or maybe two?’ I ask, stopping in front of an enclosure where two cats are curled up together. ‘Look, they’re brothers. They have to be adopted together – they’re bonded.’

Willem gives me an amused side-eye, then he bobs down and peers into the enclosure. ‘Hallo, lieve kleine katjes,’ he coos. ‘Hallo.’

The cats sleepily lift their heads in unison and blink at us. Willem turns to me, grinning. ‘They like us.’

‘What’s not to like? We’re very likeable people,’ I state matter-of-factly.

‘Very likeable,’ Willem agrees over his shoulder. His attention returns to the cats, his long fingers reaching through the slot in the Perspex. He’s just able to pet their floofy little heads and loud purring emanates from the enclosure.

‘Hallo,’ he coos again. ‘Do you want to come and live with us? We’re very nice and we have a pretty garden.’

My heart swells with love – for Willem, not the cats, but I suspect that will come soon enough. It’s the sight of this hulking man – all six-foot-five-inches of him – bent over and making smooching noises at our soon-to-be cats… He truly is a gentle giant.

‘Well, you’ve done it now,’ I say. ‘We have to take them – now they’re bonded with you.’

Still smiling, Willem looks at me again and straightens. He faces me, slipping his arms around my waist. ‘Are you sure we’re ready for pets?’ he asks. ‘It’s a big commitment.’ I can tell he’s teasing by the twinkle in his eye.

‘Oh, I know – far bigger than taking the job here in Amsterdam and moving in with you.’

‘And bigger than meeting my parents and making them fall in love with you.’

I shrug modestly.

‘It’s true. They love you more than me, even more than Ady.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I say, pretending to be serious. ‘I’m fairly certain their love is evenly distributed amongst the three of us.’

‘Mine isn’t,’ he says, his voice suddenly gravelly.

‘Yours isn’t what?’ I ask, confused.

‘My love. Almost all of it is for you.’

‘Oh,’ I whisper. ‘Willem, I…’ My words fall away, a lump lodging in my throat.

He stoops and kisses me, softly at first, then more urgently and I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him towards me.

‘Ahem.’

We jump apart like naughty schoolkids, and smile at the attendant sheepishly.

Willem speaks to her in Dutch, and I know enough to understand that he has asked about adopting Bram and Bas. She replies, but she’s talking so fast, I soon get lost.

I’ll get there. I’m determined to, despite my colleagues at Elev8te EU being fluent in English. The bi-weekly classes are really helping and Ady is happy to converse solely in Dutch – even when I’m murdering her native language.

That’s been one of the biggest surprises about living here in Amsterdam – how close I’ve become with Ady. Surprising, considering we were once engaged to the same man at the same time. But I adore her – and fiancée number three, Lucia – almost as much as I adore my cousin and closest friend, Margot.

‘Did you pick a cat yet?’

Speak of the devil. She and Ady join us, hand in hand.

‘We picked two,’ Willem replies, pointing to Bram and Bas.

‘Oh, cute.’ Margot sticks her face close to the Perspex. ‘Hello, you two. I’m your Aunty Margot.’

Willem’s eyes meet mine over Margot’s head and we share a grin. We’re an odd little family – me, Willem, Ady, Margot, and Lucia – but we work, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And now we’re adding two floofy little kitties.

***

Gaby and Raff

‘This is the last one,’ says my sister, Issy, heaving a box full of books onto the dining table.

‘And thank god for that,’ replies Raff, flashing me a grin. ‘Any more books and we’d have to rent a bigger flat.’

‘Hey! I have a lot less stuff than you do, Rafferty,’ I retort while Issy sniggers. ‘I counted four muffin tins when I unpacked the kitchen – four.’

‘Fair,’ he concedes, hooking his arm around my neck and smacking a kiss onto my forehead. He leans back, meeting my eyes. ‘Do you think we should have gone for the three-bedroom flat?’ he asks, seeming serious.

‘Why, so you can bring home even more baking supplies?’ I reply dryly. ‘You are aware that you have a full commercial kitchen at work, right?’

‘Indeed, but what happens when I have a sudden urge to bake my gorgeous girlfriend a chocolate cake at the weekend, or the middle of the night?’

‘Aww,’ says our shared bestie, Freya, glancing over her shoulder. ‘That’s so sweet, Raff. Literally.’

‘Don’t encourage him,’ I tell her.

Freya’s self-appointed job is unpacking books onto the built-in bookshelf in the living room. But I’ll have to reorganise them when she leaves, because she decided that colour-coding was the way to go, rather than grouping them by genre or ordering them alphabetically by author.

‘Is it beer o’clock yet?’ Issy drawls as she flops onto the sofa. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘Ooh, look at you,’ Freya says to her, ‘using the lingo like a proper Brit.’

‘Hah!’ barks Issy. ‘I figure after living here for a year-and-a-half I might as well try and sound like a local. But seriously… can we have beer now?’

‘Absolutely,’ replies Raff, heading for the kitchen. He returns with four bottles of lager and hands them out, then produces a bottle opener from his back pocket and does another lap around the room, opening them. Freya eyes her bottle with undisguised distaste. She’s more of a Pinot-Grigio-type gal.

‘A toast,’ says Raff, holding up his beer bottle. I take mine over to the sofa and plop down next to Issy, and she rests her head on my shoulder. ‘To our new home, Gabs. Here’s to making many more wonderful memories together.’

‘Aww,’ says Freya again, ‘that’s lovely.’

This time I agree with her, my eyes misting over.

‘And,’ Raff continues, ‘to Freya and Issy – thank you so much for all your help today. Yes, we could have paid the movers to unpack for us…’ he adds with a cheeky grin, and Issy groans. ‘But seriously, we really appreciate everything you’ve done – even though Gabs is going to move it all around after you leave.’

‘Hey!’ I exclaim, breaking into laughter.

‘It’s not like he’s wrong,’ Issy mutters under her breath and I laugh harder.

As I take a swig of my beer, the buzzer to our apartment sounds. I look to Raff, baffled. ‘We’ve got visitors already?’

‘Might be Sebastian,’ says Issy, referring to her boyfriend of six months. ‘I told him he should drop by if he finishes work early.’

‘Oh, I adore Sebastian,’ Freya coos, sharing a grin with Issy.

I adore him too – he’s the perfect match for Issy, something Poppy knew before any of us did.

Raff takes his beer to the console by the door and presses the button.

‘Hello?’ he says.

‘Raff, it’s us,’ says his Aunt CiCi. ‘We’ve brought dinner.’

‘Oh, thank god,’ I say, thinking of our completely empty fridge.

‘Lovely,’ Raff says into the console. ‘Come on up.’ He lets CiCi and Devin into the building and Freya gets up from the floor, stretching out her legs.

‘I should get going. Freddie’s taking me out to dinner tonight,’ she says. ‘I think he might be popping the question,’ she adds casually.

‘What?’ I ask, sitting upright and sloshing beer onto my jeans.

‘You’re getting engaged?’ Raff asks her, his eyes bright with excitement.

‘I think so.’

‘Wait, do you mean, you think he’s going to propose, or you think you’ll say yes?’ I ask. I love Freya to bits, but sometimes she’s as clear as mud.

‘Oh, I’m definitely saying yes if he proposes. I love Freddie.’

‘He’s a sweetheart,’ Issy chimes in.

‘We adore Freddie,’ says Raff.

‘For sure,’ I say, ‘but what makes you think he’s going to propose?’ I really am happy for her, but I hope she’s not counting her chickens before they hatch.

She tilts her head at me. ‘Gaby, I know the signs,’ she replies simply, which is fair, I suppose. Freya is a professional matchmaker.

‘Well, you’ll have to let us know,’ says Issy.

‘I promise to post in the group chat,’ Freya replies, gathering her belongings. There’s a knock at the door. ‘I’ll get it,’ says Freya. She lets CiCi and Devin in and they exchange hellos and goodbyes.

After Freya leaves, CiCi stands in the middle of the living room, looking around appraisingly, while Devin takes three shopping bags into the kitchen. It looks like CiCi has over catered, as usual.

‘Oh, you two,’ she says, getting teary, ‘it’s lovely, just lovely.’

‘Thanks, Aunt CiCi,’ says Raff, wrapping her in a big hug.

I stand and join them, wanting in on the action. With our parents in Seattle, CiCi and Devin have become surrogate parents to me and Issy – something that makes for happy expats.

But of course, what makes me happiest about life here in London is getting to share it with Raff – my one-time bestie and now boyfriend. He’s smart and funny and sweet and sexy (in his own way) and I love him with all my heart.

He also happens to be a hell of a baker.

***

Greta and Ewan

I’m at my desk editing a feature for the next issue of Nouveau Life when Taj, my assistant editor, pokes their head around the door.

‘They’re ready for you, Greta,’ they say.

Perhaps naïvely, I have agreed to be the subject of an article about geriatric pregnancies. Only I’ve put a stipulation on my participation – that the word ‘geriatric’ is never once mentioned.

The article was my boss’s idea. As editor-in-chief of Nouveau, Anjali rarely gets to do ‘the fun stuff’ (as she calls it) any more, so when she proposed an article about career women having children in their late thirties and early forties, I reluctantly said yes to being interviewed.

Today is the accompanying photoshoot.

‘Thanks, Taj,’ I say, slowly getting up from my chair and waddling towards the doorway. ‘Although, what they’re going to do with this…’ I add, throwing my arms wide and huffing out a sigh.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Taj, stepping aside so I can pass. ‘You’re gorgeous as always.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

A grin breaks across my face as my husband, Ewan, leans down and softly kisses my cheek. Two-and-a-bit years on and just being near him makes me feel like the most beautiful, most loved woman in the world.

‘Hello, you,’ I say, peering up at him. ‘You made it.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, The Daily Grind can do without me for a few hours,’ he replies, referring to his coffee shop a few doors down.

I reach up and fiddle with the collar of his shirt. ‘Can it do without you for the rest of the day? They’re doing full hair and makeup, you know. I’m going to look extra gorgeous and—’

Taj clears their throat. ‘Er, sorry… but, er… the photoshoot?’

‘Oh right, sorry,’ I say, springing apart from Ewan, who sniggers softly. ‘Let’s head up, shall we?’ I gesture towards the lifts and waddle on ahead. ‘I blame you for that,’ I tell Ewan as he falls into step beside me.

‘I can’t imagine why,’ he teases.

I stop in front of the lift and press the button.

‘You’re far too handsome and charming. You make me forget basic decorum,’ I retort matter-of-factly.

‘Think of it this way: If I didn’t have that ability, we might not be expecting our first child,’ he says with a sexy grin.

‘First?’ I say, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘I thought we decided one and done.’

He rests a hand on my bump, rubbing it gently. ‘One, three, ten… It doesn’t matter to me. I’m just thrilled I’m going to be a dad.’

‘And that you’re giving Margriet a grandchild. Mum loves you more than she loves me.’

‘We both know that’s not true. Besides, she loves Tiggy best.’

I burst out laughing. It’s true that Mum has a soft spot for my best friend – and it’s mutual. Mum’s the only person who’s allowed to call Tiggy by her real name, Elizabeth.

‘Ru may get a look-in as well,’ I reply, adding my brother to the mix.

‘Hmm, good point.’

The lift finally arrives – empty – and we step inside. I press the button for the fifth floor as Ewan moves closer and kisses my neck, making my skin tingle. I emit a soft sigh.

‘I like your idea for how to spend the rest of the day,’ he says, his voice low in my ear.

‘Mmm, me t—’ Suddenly, the baby kicks, taking me by surprise. ‘Ooh,’ I say, grasping my bulbous stomach with both hands.

‘Is that our son breaking the mood?’ asks Ewan.

‘Apparently. Here…’ I take one of Ewan’s hands and rest it on my bump and right on cue, the baby kicks again.

We beam at each other.

‘God, I love you,’ says Ewan.

‘I love you too. We both do,’ I reply right as the lift doors open.

***

Elle and Leo

‘Ms Bliss, Mr Jones, five minutes till you’re on,’ says Lynn, the guest coordinator. ‘I’ll come get you in three.’

Leo and I are in the green room, waiting to be interviewed by the Alex Harrison for The Spotlight Lounge, and in five minutes – oh my god! – we’ll be joining Dawn French on the infamous purple lounge. Dawn French!

It’s a pinch-me moment – one in a long list of pinch-me moments from the past few years. Any time I reflect on what Leo and I have accomplished together, the opportunities and experiences we’ve had, I can hardly believe this is my life.

We’ve headlined at Paris Fashion Week, designed head-to-toe outfits for Oscar nominees, and have had two Nouveau covers! We have designated floor space in Harvey Nicks next to the likes of Balenciaga and Stella McCartney and we even dressed the Princess of Wales for a recent tour to Scandinavia!

My life as a fashion designer has surpassed everything I ever dreamt of, everything that six-year-old girl who filled scrapbooks with drawings of triangle-shaped dresses could possibly have imagined.

And of course, I’ve done it all with my love. That’s made every moment all the sweeter.

‘You’re very beautiful, by the way,’ says Leo, leaning closer. He lands a light kiss on my head, careful not to muss the hairstylist’s up-do.

‘Are you just saying that to distract me from being nervous?’

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates through the room.

‘A little, but you are beautiful. And you’ll be awesome,’ he says, his Texan drawl particularly pronounced.

‘Right,’ says my sister, Cassie, entering the green room. As the CEO of Lorenzo Bliss Designs, she’s often on hand at these sorts of things, lending moral support and talking me around if imposter syndrome sets in. As she’s also my best friend, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘I’ll be watching from back here on the monitor,’ she continues. ‘Far better than—’ She stops abruptly, eyeing me with concern. ‘Oh god, you’re not going to be sick, are you, Bean?’

‘Of course not,’ I trill with false confidence.

Leo gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze.

‘Sweetheart, how is it that before a fashion show, you’re as cool as a cucumber but any time we appear on TV, you’re skittier than a kitty in a room full of rocking chairs?’

I swivel my head, and our eyes meet. I return his winsome smile with a single raised eyebrow. ‘And how is it you sound more Texan than ever when you’re trying to divert my attention?’

He tilts his head, grinning cheekily. ‘Well, you’re onto me.’ He leans closer again. ‘We’ve got this, okay?’ His large grey eyes meet mine and I inhale slowly, drawing a sense of serenity from his steady presence.

‘Okay,’ I say with a slight smile. The nerves haven’t disappeared entirely, but I do feel a lot better than I did a minute ago.

‘Miss Bliss, Mr Jones…’ Lynn has returned, and she signals that it’s time.

‘Break a leg,’ Cassie calls to our backs as we follow Lynn to the studio set.

Leo captures my hand in his as we walk and I inhale deeply, letting the breath out slowly. As we approach the wings, Lynn indicates where we should stand while Alex Harrison introduces us, then she steps aside and speaks softly into a headset.

‘And up next,’ says Alex Harrison, ‘are the darlings of the fashion world, Elle Bliss and Leo Jones, the talented faces behind the highly celebrated, world-renowned design house, Lorenzo Bliss. Please give them a warm welcome.’

‘Ready?’ Leo whispers.

I nod, calmness washing over me, and we walk onto the set to thunderous applause.

***

Poppy and Tristan

‘Here, let me hold my granddaughter,’ says my mother-in-law, Helen, reaching for Lily.

I reluctantly relinquish my daughter, but she barely stirs, her Kewpie-doll-like mouth pursing slightly but her eyelids remaining firmly shut.

Helen’s eyes rove Lily’s face, her unlined features immobile like always, but her eyes filled with love. ‘Hello, little Helena,’ she says softly.

I don’t bother correcting her. It’s a battle to be fought another day, not at Lily’s baby shower. Besides, we did give Lily two middle names in honour of both her grandmothers: Helena for Helen and Noël for my mum, Noelene.

We toyed with ‘Lena’ instead of ‘Noël’ but only for about five minutes. Lily Helena Lena? Uh, no. It sounds like the title of song that’s played on the ukelele.

Helen wanders off with Lily and my best friend, Shaz, sidles up.

‘We may have just witnessed a miracle,’ she says dryly.

I snigger. ‘You mean Helen showing a modicum of maternal affection? Agreed,’ I retort. ‘We can loan her to you and Lauren if you like? A baby can never have too many grandparents to spoil them.’

‘Yeah, we’re good, thanks,’ she says with a smirk.

She casts her eyes across the room where her partner, Lauren, is chatting to Tristan, her baby bump barely visible, and smiles.

‘Not long now,’ I say, nudging her with my shoulder.

‘Well, five months,’ she replies, ‘but I know it will go like that.’ She snaps her fingers.

‘Excited?’ I ask, already knowing the answer.

Shaz grins at me. ‘Hell, yeah. And terrified.’

‘Yeah, that doesn’t go away once they’re born either.’

‘Don’t tell me that!’ she says with a laugh.

‘Meow.’

Saffron, our calico cat, has made an appearance and is brushing up against Shaz’s leg. She’s always preferred Shaz to me – in fact, she prefers everyone to me. The only time she brushes up against my leg is when it’s time to feed her.

Shaz stoops to pick her up.

‘Hey, Saffy,’ she says, giving her a rub under her chin. ‘How are you coping with being a big sister?’

‘Eh, she’s fine,’ I say with a wry smile. ‘Indifferent at the moment. I reckon that will change once Lily starts walking and wants to play with her.’

‘You be sweet to Lily, you hear me, Saffy?’ Shaz says before putting her down.

Saffron scowls at her – she hates being put down when she’s not done cuddling yet – then turns her back and struts off towards Tristan, her favourite.

Shaz and I snigger. ‘Little minx,’ I say affectionately.

‘Lovely shower,’ says our friend, Jacinda, joining us with Arun balanced on her hip. I reach for him, and he gives me a grin, two teeth poking through his gums, as his chubby little arms stretch towards me. ‘Oof,’ says Jass when I take him from her. ‘He’s so bloody heavy.’

‘You are not. You’re perfect, aren’t you, Arun?’

His dark-brown eyes widen, then he giggles as if he understood what I said. A second later, he starts wriggling in my embrace. I set him down and he toddles off towards his dad, Ravi.

‘And he’s into everything at the moment. Can’t turn my back for a second, cheeky little boy,’ Jass adds with a loving glance at her son. ‘You know,’ she says, turning back to me and Shaz, ‘I’ll happily look after Lily any time. I mean it, any time you like. She’s my only niece and I intend to spoil her rotten.’

Jacinda has three brothers and between them, they have seven sons.

‘Actually…’ says Shaz, ‘we had our twenty-week scan last week and…’ She raises her brows.

‘You’re having a girl?’ I ask, excitedly.

She nods, a grin spreading across her face. ‘Another niece in the family,’ she says, making Jacinda tear up. When I first met Jass, she’d rarely get emotional like this, but we’ve seen a much softer side to her since she became a mum.

‘Darling,’ says Tristan, coming up behind me, his arm curling around my middle and giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘Do you think I should make a toast?’ he asks.

I smile up at him. ‘Yeah, good idea, babe.’

He kisses my cheek, then steps back and calls out.

‘Hello, everyone… Hello…’ When the guests stop chatting and look our way, he continues. ‘Poppy and I – and our darling Lily – want to thank you all for coming today. We’re so fortunate to have you all in Lily’s life, to be there for all her milestones, to help support her when she needs it and shape her into the person she’ll become. You’re all very dear to us, and we know our daughter is in good hands. To you, mother,’ he says and Helen blushes uncharacteristically, ‘to Poppy’s parents, who are here in spirit and will get to meet their granddaughter very soon, and to our dear friends… cheers.’

A chorus of ‘cheers’ echoes through the room, followed by the soft sound of sniffles, including mine. I wipe at the tears streaming down my face and look around the room at our assembled loved ones, including my closest colleagues and friends, George and Freya, and Freya’s fiancé, Freddie.

Tristan’s right. We are so fortunate to have these people in our lives, in Lily’s life.

Even Helen, I think, smiling to myself.

I turn to Tristan, whose eyes are bright with tears. ‘That was perfect, babe.’ I rise onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. When I drop back onto my heels, we beam at each other, and a heartbeat later, Lily starts to cry across the room.

We both look towards Helen, who appears helpless. She beelines for us, holding Lily out as if she’s handing over a package. ‘Here. You take her.’

I gently gather Lily into my arms, smothering a laugh. It’s unsurprising that Helen’s brand of ‘hands-on grandmothering’ – something she’s been talking about for months now – equates to cradling a sleeping infant and nothing more. I doubt she’ll be offering to babysit any time soon.

‘Hey, little one,’ I say softly, gently rocking Lily from side to side as Tristan leans close and strokes her cheek.

She soon settles down and looks up at us, her eyes wide with wonder and her mouth stretching into a smile. I turn and look at Tristan, my mouth agape.

‘Her first smile,’ we say together.

‘You clever, clever girl, Lily,’ I tell her.

Tristan draws me closer and for several moments, we simply bask in the immense joy of being a family of three.

‘Meow.’

Oops, make that a family of four.

A thank you from me

Thank you so much for reading The Ever After Agency series. I hope you’ve loved getting to know our cast of regulars and our pairs of lovers, and that you’ve enjoyed the ins and outs of matchmaking, as well as the armchair travel.

It’s been an absolute joy writing this series and I’m quite sad saying goodbye to these characters. In truth, this epilogue is as much for me as for you – I wanted to know what happened after ‘happily ever after’, and I hope you love where our couples ended up as much as I do.

Thank you again and look out for my next books for Boldwood – five new standalone romcoms, with added spice.