Page 105 of An Unfinished Story

Epilogue

THEBIGAPPLE

Sixteen months later

“Why do they call it the Big Apple, anyway?” Oliver asked, strolling up Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, the hat Claire had given him slightly tilted on his head, his eyes and ears tuned to the sights and sounds erupting around him.

A chilly fall wind funneled between the tall buildings, and Claire zipped up her down jacket. “That’s a good question. I have no idea.”

“Oh, I do,” Whitaker exclaimed, circling around a man slinging bottled waters. Once he’d caught up with them, he said, “Back in the thirties, this little boy in Queens was bobbing for apples. You know, you have all these apples floating in a giant bucket of water, and somebody has to go in with their teeth and try to grab one.”

“I know what bobbing for apples is,” Oliver said.

A taxi driver slammed his horn.

“Just making sure. You kids and your Fortnite and hovercrafts and virtual reality. Back when I was a ...”

“Oh God, please don’t go there,” Claire said, walking between them.

They stopped at the end of the block, waiting for the red hand to turn green. “So anyway, the kid from Queens lifts his head from the bucket, water dripping down his face and this huge red apple in his mouth, and his friend yells, ‘Holy smokes, that thing’s the size of Manhattan!’”

Oliver laughed. “You’re so full of it! I know you’re making that up.”

“Hold on,” Claire said. “You made that up?”

A smile rose on Whitaker’s face.

Claire punched him on the arm. “I can’t believe you.”

“It was pretty good, though, right? A kid in Queens.”

“I don’t believe anything you say anymore,” Oliver admitted, putting one foot into the street.

Claire noticed and pulled him back to the sidewalk without a word. He got her message. She put her hands on Oliver’s shoulders. “From now on, Oliver and I will assume everything you say is fiction.”

Whitaker looked back and forth between them. “That takes all the fun out of it!”

“That’s what you get when you cry wolf.” And then, as if testing the waters—almost as if it were a question—he added, “Dad.”

It was the first time Oliver had called Whitaker “Dad.”

Claire wanted to say, “Yes, you can call him ‘Dad’!” But she bit her tongue, not wanting to coddle her son. He’d called her “Mom” a few times, so this was the next step. A very exciting one.

Whitaker obviously heard the tone, too, and jumped in to squash it. Acting like hearing “Dad” was no big deal, he put his arm around Oliver. “Are you really preaching to me about crying wolf, Aesop?”

Claire breathed easier as Oliver smiled at him. There was a time when she could never have imagined marrying again, never imagined being a mother. All that had changed, and seeing her two men love on each other filled her with gratitude.

The hand turned green, and they crossed the street and moved up the sidewalk. They stopped and stared when they came upon the Barnes & Noble on their right. Posters with the cover ofSaving Orlandoflanked the entrance. Though she’d seen the cover a million times, it never got old. It depicted a man holding a boy in a headlock in the grass, both of them beaming with joy.Saving Orlandotyped in a noble font. Two names below, separated by an ampersand. David Kite first, in a large black font. Whitaker Grant, much smaller, as he’d insisted.

Claire looked back at David’s name. She so wished he could be here to see this, but it felt wonderful to know she had been able to give him this last gift, this last goodbye.

Below one of the posters, a sign read: BOOKSIGNING WITHWHITAKERGRANT,COAUTHOR OF THENEWYORKTIMESBESTSELLERSAVINGORLANDO. TODAY!3P.M. Through the window, Claire saw the giant display of hardbacks waiting for Whitaker’s signature. He’d talked a lot about wanting to do a second signing here (the first was almost ten years before), and she didn’t need to look at his face to know how he felt right now.

Without looking down, she touched the rings Whitaker had given her, a platinum band and a vintage emerald-cut diamond. She smiled, remembering his proposal last winter, when he had secretly gathered everyone special to them at Leo’s South and taken a knee in the sand in the middle of the main dining room. He’d even flown Claire’s mother down for the surprise. Oh, how Whitaker it was and how quickly Claire had said yes. And then the roar of their friends and family and the other guests.

How could Claire do anything but keep on swinging, as her former neighbor Hal had taught her?

Claire reached for her two men and pulled them close, wrapping her arms around their waists. She turned her head to each of them, smiling. Other pedestrians wove by, racing in and out of the madness, juggling their phones and cups of coffee. A car horn blared, starting a cascade of horns that worked their way up Fifth like falling dominoes. A bus slid up to the curb behind them with a screech, and people of every kind piled out.

So many people, so many broken roads. But it was here Claire’s broken road ended.