Epilogue: Paradise

The sun was cresting above the horizon when I stepped onto the beach, vibrant ripples of orange and pink stretching across the Caribbean Ocean. Paradise. Maybe not for the turtles who verged on extinct, battling against poachers, pollution, and predators, but for me, fulfilling a lifelong dream, I'd found where I belonged.

"Hola, guapa." An arm wound around me from behind and salty lips grazed my cheek.

Paradise.

I leaned my head against Ed's solid chest, my fingers drifting over the leather bracelet resting on my stomach.

"How was your shift?" I asked.

"Good." Humid breath tickled my neck. "Tired now, though."

I smiled and tilted my head further back until my mouth brushed the sharp edge of his jaw. "Lightweight."

Ed's hold tightened around my stomach. "You can do the 3am shift tomorrow, then."

With a grin, I spun around and looped my arms over his shoulders. I sifted my fingers through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face. After three weeks away from home, it was longer than I'd ever seen it, flopping over his forehead, touching the tops of his ears. I liked it, but he found it annoying.

"Why don't you nap while I do my shift?" I suggested. "Then I'll cook you breakfast."

A wary eyebrow crept upwards. "Cook?"

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I fought back a smile. Despite my efforts during our time here, I'd not yet managed to cook anything solo. My first attempt set off the smoke alarm, and when I tried to rectify my mistake on the second go, everything came out underdone.

"I've got a good feeling about today," I said. "Third time lucky."

He didn't look convinced.

"I also make a great bowl of cereal."

Ed's cheeks dimpled. Hands tightening around my hips, he drew me closer and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

"Cereal sounds wonderful."

"Go get some rest." I pecked his lips.

"Pura vida, mi amor."

This time I couldn't hold back my smile. "Pura vida."

*

When I returned to the house after my shift, I found Ed on the balcony rather than in bed. Sat in the outdoor armchair, he had his feet up on the balcony wall and notebook propped against his thighs, nibbling on the end of his pen with a furrowed brow.

I sauntered over and slipped through the ajar door, shutting it after myself to keep the heat out.

"Did you manage to get some sleep?" I asked.

He didn't look up from his notebook. "Nah. Couldn't switch off."

Switching off had been an ongoing challenge for him. Lyrics constantly swirled through his head, and with no outlet for them, Ed remained attached to his notebook. During a normal day he'd either be singing or promoting or writing. Here he was doing none of that. And while his brain couldn't detach itself from the world of music, his heart didn't want to.

I loved that passion. The genuine pleasure he drew from his career. Singing wasn't just about fame and money for him; it was his life.

That's why it had surprised me when, two weeks into our holiday, he'd suggested we extend it to a month. I'd assumed he'd be itching to get back into the studio, but instead he seemed content to hide away with me. Long walks on the beach. Longer spells between the sheets. Shifts at the turtle refuge. It was time just to us.

Plus, nobody in this remote Costa Rican village knew him—or, if they did, they pretended not to. He wasn't Teddy Stone here. He was Ed.

"You're hot when you're all studious."

"Hm."

The vague acknowledgement showed I only had half his attention, and I didn't want to bother him if inspiration had struck.

"I'll go for a walk to give you some time alone." I slipped two fingers under his chin and tipped his face upwards so I could plant a kiss on his lips.

He kissed me back, and then his gaze dropped to the notebook again. Just as I reached for the door handle, though, his soft, half-distracted voice spoke up.

"Take Mark."

I peered at him over my shoulder. "Pass."

At that, his blue eyes lifted to meet mine. "Soph... Please."

"Nobody here knows us. I'll be fine."

A quiet sigh spilled from his mouth as his dark brows pinched together in contemplation.

"Make you a deal?" he offered.

I turned to face him and cocked my head to the side, intrigued. "I'm listening."

"Take Mark, and I'll let you suck my dick later."

An astonished yet amused scoff tore from my throat. Maybe my comment about him being hot had finally registered.

"Sounds like you come out of this deal very well either way."

His lips tugged up into an adorable smile. "I hope so."

I rolled my eyes.

"Not tempted?" he asked me.

"Depends." I jerked my chin towards his notebook. "How many of those songs are about me?"

"All of them."

Too fast. None of the damn songs were about me.

"Liar."

His grin widened, but sincerity cut through the humour in his eyes. "Please take Mark."

With a resigned huff, I gave in. "Fine. But tonight you're all mine. I'm not sharing you with the notebook."

He held up both hands in surrender. "Deal. No notebook."

*

Several hours later, we dozed on the sofa under the air conditioning, my legs sprawled over his lap, his hands massaging my feet.

"I don't want to go home." Ed's quiet confession drifted through the short space between us.

"We've still got another week," I said.

He hummed in acknowledgement as his fingertips floated over my calves.

"And if you want to stay longer..." I let the suggestion hang in the air.

When I opened my eyes to gauge his expression, worry screwed his mouth.

"Is it bad if I do?" he asked.

"Of course not. We can stay as long as you want."

"I like being here. Just me and you. This is what I imagine normal to feel like."

A low chuckle escaped me as I glanced around the spacious living room, luxury and expense captured in every inch. Contemporary pillars supporting crisp, white beams. Large skylights stretching up into the peak of the vaulted ceiling. A giant bathtub sunken into the grey bamboo floor, beside a full-length window offering views of the ocean.

"I can assure you this isn't normal," I said.

His eyes shifted across to me, a smile tickling the corner of his mouth. "Fair enough, but it's still just the two of us. Enjoying each other's company with no outside pressure or expectations or fear... No playing up for the cameras or watching our behaviour or planning our trips out. Just you and me. It's perfect."

A cosy warmth spread through me. "Same. But if you're not ready to give up your career yet, I'll still support you with that. I'll always support you. I promise."

"Thanks, Soph... I guess the grass is always greener, but a private life is sounding more and more appealing."

"And if that's what you want, I'll support you with that, too. In the meantime, we can still escape on remote holidays whenever we need to. Keep that balance between public and private."

"Hm..." His eyes dropped to the notebook on the coffee table. "I think my inspiration is ready to pack it in."

"Really? You're always writing."

"The ideas are there, but I can't express them. I think I'm feeling the pressure because everything I release is compared to Friends. It's like I'll never top that stupid song."

I bit my lip. "Can I read?"

Hesitation flitted across the chiselled angles of his face, but he reached for the notebook and passed it over. I sympathised with his reluctance. During the early stages of our friendship, I'd let him read my draft blog posts, and potentially that encouraged him to extend the same courtesy to me.

As I read through the first couple of verses, Ed shifted on the sofa next to me. One foot crossing over his ankle. A hand through his hair. A tweak on his collar.

Something about the lyrics didn't tug at me like I'd assumed they would. I'd known he was joking earlier when he'd claimed the songs were all about me, but there lay the problem. Although I'd never been a Teddy Stone fan, I was an Ed Stone fan, and I'd expected my boyfriend's heartfelt words to have an impact on me.

"It's difficult to judge without music," I said.

Because as much as I loved and supported him, I couldn't bear the idea of criticising his work. Not on such a personal level.

"I've got a rough tune in my head if you want me to sing it to you."

My heart lurched as my eyes sprung up to look at him. "Really?"

He offered me a short nod. "It's very rough. The tune. The lyrics. I value your opinion, though."

"Even though I'm not a fan?"

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I trust you to be impartial. Maybe it's better that you're not a fan. You're less likely to lie to me if it's bad."

He plucked the notebook out of my hands and cleared his throat. Then he began to sing.

In a true testament to his talent, his voice sounded as smooth as always, even though he hadn't warmed up. There was no self-consciousness in his performance. It was natural and easy, like he did this every day.

And he did, in a way. Just not on such a one-to-one level. For a fleeting moment, I considered how many people would kill to be in my position right now, witnessing a private, exclusive performance from Teddy Stone. But that brief sense of privilege dissolved into a sea of pride and love as I listened to him. Yes it was a private, exclusive performance that I was privileged to witness, but that was because it was personal and intimate between the two of us.

When he sang the last line and waited for my verdict, I had finally decided what the lyrics lacked, and that same love and pride encouraged me to be honest.

"It's not about us," I said.

Ed chuckled and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I was joking earlier. None of these songs are about us." He leafed through the ink-stained pages.

"But it's a love song."

"Uh, yeah. But it's made up. Don't worry, it's only you I'm in love with." He cracked a charming smile, and while my insides melted a little, I focused to stay on track.

"No, I know," I said quickly, "but do you think that's the issue? It's not sincere. I know neither of us like the fact that your most successful song is a painful reminder of our past, but we both know why it's done so well."

Ed's brow crinkled as he tossed the notebook back onto the coffee table. It landed with a gentle thud, skidded a couple of inches, then came to rest against the decorative bowl in the centre.

"It was real and raw and vulnerable," I said. "And yeah, I know you used some artistic license, but the emotions that drove you to write those lyrics were real."

He scraped a hand over his jaw. "I get what you're saying, Soph. That's kind of the point, though: it is vulnerable. Our relationship is private. I don't want to share it with the world."

"That's fair," I said. "I'm just saying that could be a reason the lyrics don't feel right. Because they don't feel like this." I gestured between the two of us.

His mouth twisted in thought, like my explanation held some weight, so I offered another suggestion.

"I'm no expert at song writing, but how about a different approach? Write something about us, just to get the emotions right, and then tweak and revise it afterwards so it's not quite as real and vulnerable. You know, like a barrier. Everyone listening will think it's another insight into your life, but we'll know the truth."

As he pondered that, his fingers curled around my feet again, thumbs brushing over my ankles.

"Everyone will think it's about us anyway," he said eventually. "No matter how authentic. If I release a love song, the assumption will be that it's about you."

"I should hope so."

His lips twitched. "Maybe you're right. It's worth a shot. See if it frees up some creative juices."

Feeling accomplished, I swung my feet off his lap and rose from the sofa.

"Good. I'm going for a swim. Want to join?"

He nodded, but as I turned to head for the bedroom to get changed, he leapt up and caught my wrist.

"Soph." He pulled me into his arms, hands sliding up to cup my face. "Thank you."

I tried to brush it off. "Don't thank me yet. Might not even work."

But he didn't concede to my flippancy.

"You're actively supporting me and encouraging my career. Encouraging the thing that stops us being a normal couple. I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me."

The intensity of his words stirred something deep in my stomach, something that terrified me a little less with every passing day.

"Tell me in a song, then." I smiled and jerked my head towards the notebook.

Rather than smile back, he smoothed a thumb over my cheekbone. "Lyrics will never come close to expressing how strongly I feel about you. You can't convey something this chemical through words."

Warmth flooded through me. Casting aside my flippancy, I stood on my tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I love you. So much. If you choose to sing for another decade, I'll stand by your side every step of the way. If you choose to retire tomorrow, I'll still be by your side. I choose you, whatever that entails."

A thick lump travelled down his throat. "Likewise, Soph. When I said you make me happier than being on stage, I meant that. You're my priority now. Every decision is a team one."

"Good job we make a great team, then."

His forehead dipped to rest against mine, and then he drew me into another kiss. As our mouths moved together, my heart thudded with more than just desire. Whether he was Teddy Stone or Ed, whether we were in a remote Costa Rican village or a swanky London hotel suite, my feelings for this boy transcended it all.

We'd promised to always have each other's backs, and now we had each other's hearts, too. 

THE END

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

Do I win a prize for corniest final line ever? In seriousness, though, posting a last chapter is always nerve-wracking, so I hope I did it justice.

For me, it was important that Soph didn't ask Ed to give up his passion—or that he didn't feel he had to. It's less of a sacrifice for her to integrate into his life, especially as she'll reap some benefits of her own from it (becoming a public figure will help grow her blogging). I felt that both of them having independent careers and passions, which they love, was a fair exchange for a public life together, until they decide they want to retreat into total privacy. Always interested to hear readers' thoughts too, though! 

Book 3 is now underway, so you can dive right into that. Mark also has his own story, called Bodyguard, which you can access via my profile. 

And finally, thank you again for all the support with the Heart of Stone series. The books will remain free for now, but if you wish to leave a tip, you can "buy me a coffee" via Ko-fi (ko-fi.com/tessalovatt). The clickable link is in my Wattpad bio here tessalovatt.