Page 110 of Second Act
Epilogue
Several months later
Jessica stood in front of the new entrance to the South Harlem Veterinary Clinic, the scissors she held glinting in the soft spring sunshine and not a single paparazzo in sight. A small crowd was assembled on the sidewalk in front of her, including the staff members of her clinic and the Carver Center, her brother, and her husband. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the man who looked like a god dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt was now hers for the rest of their lives. She smiled straight into those intense turquoise eyes and got a slow, sexy smile in answer.
“I’d like to thank everyone on my staff for putting up with the incessant hammering, banging, and cursing, as well as the workmen’s bad taste in music, for the last couple of months.” That got a laugh. “Seriously, your suggestions for the new place have been invaluable. Who knew a burned-out bodega could be transformed into such a great addition to our vet clinic?”
She turned her gaze back to Hugh, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. He’d told her to keep him out of the limelight, but she couldn’t bring herself not to acknowledge that he’d had a pivotal role in the project. In fact, he’d made it all possible by purchasing the bodega and then funding most of the construction costs. “I owe a debt ofgratitude to my wonderful husband for the idea of using the building to expand the clinic. Of course, he then left for exotic locales, so he didn’t have to suffer through the daily renovation disasters of hidden water leaks, surprise termite damage, or load-bearing walls that wouldn’t bear a load. However, he heard about them—at length—every night.”
Even Hugh laughed, despite her public mention of him. Happiness bubbled up in her chest at the thought of how much thought, effort, and love had gone into this building.
“We’re all here because we care deeply about the creatures we hope to heal,” she said. “I am awed daily by the commitment each and every one of you shows. That is what I thank you for the most.”
She couldn’t get any more words past the lump in her throat, so she was grateful for the loud applause. When she snipped through the purple ribbon strung across the facade, a cheer went up. She waved her hand in front of the electric door, which magically opened, a convenience for her clients with reluctant dogs or large critter carriers. “Come on in and eat!”
Hugh slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek. Just that casual touch sent heat flooding through her veins. “Good use of humor in a ceremonial speech,” he said. “That’s why I’m not annoyed with you for dragging me into it.”
“You didn’t really think I would leave you out. We’re married, after all. People expect it.”
“I’m still not quite convinced we’re married. It seems almost miraculous,” the superstar who could have any woman he wanted actually said.
Their wedding had been a miracle in her eyes, one of romantic beauty. Hugh said they’d had an eight-year engagement already, so he wanted to marry her right away. Gavin had offered his Southampton beach house—actually, mansion was a better description—for the celebration. Gavin’s wife, the amazingly down-to-earth Allie, had orchestrated most of the planning. By the time they’d decided on lavenderand silver for the color scheme, the two women had bonded into fast friends.
The ceremony had taken place around the indoor pool, which Allie had filled with floating, lavender-scented candles. The huge, potted ficus trees were wound with twinkling white lights, turning the vast, glass-enclosed space into a fairyland. Jessica had walked to Hugh on a platform running down the middle of the pool, which had made her a little nervous. To reduce the danger of tripping and falling in the water, she’d requested flat shoes from Quentin when he was helping her choose her bridal ensemble. It turned out to be a smart move, because when she’d seen Hugh standing at the end of the walkway, his elegant, black tuxedo highlighting the stark beauty of his face, she’d forgotten where she was. When he smiled at her, she’d lost her breath.
Since then, she’d only fallen more and more in love with him.
Her reverie was interrupted when Gavin strolled up, holding hands with Allie. “You know that relationships begun during a traumatic event don’t last.”
Jessica laughed. Once she’d gotten to know him, she’d come to enjoy Gavin’s needling, not to mention the occasional serious insights he offered into Hugh’s character. “I might worry, except our relationship started nine years before the fire.”
“I thought being married to a wonderful woman like Allie would mellow you,” Hugh said.
“ThisisGavin being mellow,” Allie said.
Gavin raised his eyebrows. “I reserve my pleasant side for my wife and a few special friends like Jessica.”
“Because your pleasantness is in such short supply, you’re afraid it will run out?” Hugh asked with a snort.
“Enough!” Jessica said, holding up one hand. “I need to eat or I’ll start to sound like Gavin.”
“Have I been insulted?” the writer asked.
“Yes,” Hugh said with a wicked grin before he swept his hand across in front of the door to open it for his friends.
Jessica elbowed him in the ribs as they walked into the spacious reception area, where the food was laid out on Carla’s new kingdom, a huge, granite-topped half circle of workspace.
“Hey, Doc,” Diego said, strolling up with a well-filled plate in his hand, “this is mad dope.”
“There’s something I want to show you,” Jessica said. “Give your plate to Hugh and come with me.”
Diego looked dubious about using a movie star as his plate holder, but Hugh solved the problem by taking it out of Diego’s grasp. “Don’t be too long or I may eat it myself,” he said, inspecting the array of goodies the boy had chosen.
She led Diego down the wide, new hallway with its fresh, cream-colored paint and pristine, blue tile floor, to the farthest room at the back. Opening the door, she waved him into an antechamber that contained a scrub sink, a laundry hamper, and shelving stocked with rubber gloves, smocks, and cleaning supplies. From there a glass-fronted door opened into a small, empty space, floored in concrete that was painted a shiny gray with a drain set in the center.
“What is it?” Diego asked, peering through the door.
“A quarantine room. With its own ventilation and drainage system so there will be no danger of contamination to the rest of the clinic. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
