Page 68 of Willow in the Wind

“Is she talking about Kinsey?” she demanded.

James nodded. “She is.”

Taylor leaned back and crossed her arms. “Did you talk to her?”

James closed his eyes, remembering last week’s dinner with Kinsey. They’d met at a pizza place down the block from her apartment. She’d laughed about the tabloid photos and asked him about Stella; he’d apologized profusely—for not being emotionally available and not showing his love for her. He’d told her,I do love you, Kinsey. I want to try again.

But Kinsey had told him she was seeing someone else.

And James heard himself say,I’m happy for you.

He was too late.

Now, to Taylor, he said, “I did talk to Kinsey. I apologized.”

“And?” Taylor asked.

James shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

Taylor sighed and reached across the table to touch her father’s hand. “It’s good you were honest with her. And I think this is all really good. It means that you’ll know how to open yourself up next time you find someone. You’ll be more willing to give yourself over to love.”

James shook his head. Tears were in his eyes. “How did you get so wise?”

Later that night, as James did sound for Taylor’s gig with Bad Habit, he watched his “little girl” on stage, playing the heck out of her bass, as his heart ballooned with pride. Her hair swung wildly around as Aiden scream-sang into the mic. James’s ears hurt. He didn’t care.

It occurred to James he’d never told Taylor she was the reason he’d left Stella behind in Greece. Maybe Taylor already knew. She was no dummy. She’d done the math.

Toward the end of the gig, Taylor spoke into the mic, thanking James, “the sound guy who stepped in at the last minute. He’s always there for us.” She winked at him, and the crowd laughed although they didn’t know what was so funny.

James had no idea what was next in his life.

But as long as it included music and his daughter, he supposed he would be all right.

After the gig, James grabbed drinks with the band and walked back to Greenwich Village. Although he felt about twenty-seven, he knew from the creak in his back and the ringing in his ears that he was very much in his mid-to-late-forties. He would only get older.

Passing by a bookstore, he paused to look at the turquoise copies ofThe Athens Affairin the window. It was hard to believethat the book had changed so much of his life. His past had erupted through time and space to shatter his world.

The book was sold for eighteen dollars and forty-two cents.

It was now a number-oneNew York Timesbestseller.

“Good luck, Stella,” he breathed into the glass in front of the books. “I wish you nothing but the best.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

January 2025

It was the first day of the new year, and Stella was hosting a party at the house. It was the same house she and Matt had purchased when she was pregnant with Logan, the same house they’d brought both babies home to, the same house in which she and Matt had suffered from COVID and decided, together, to divorce.

But it was also the same house Matt planned to move back into by mid-summer 2025.

They were going to take things slow.

But they were already madly in love. It made “slow” difficult.

Standing in the kitchen, she listened to the funny conversations in the living room between her family members—her mother, father, brothers, and their wives, plus Aunt Esme and Uncle Victor, Valerie, Bethany, Rebecca, and their partners and children. Chloe and Logan were at the piano, playing a duet and singing along badly. Outside, snow fell gently across the dark sands.

Impossibly, Uncle Victor and Aunt Esme were back together again.

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