Epilogue
Amara emerged from the bathroom of her townhouse in a gray terry cloth robe, drying her hair. “Are you disappointed we’re not going out to celebrate tonight?” she asked.
“Not a bit,” Demetrius said. He sat in an overstuffed leather chair in the living room, flipping through a magazine. “I’ve had enough excitement for a while. I’m looking forward to spending a quiet evening together, reminiscing about the old year and planning for the new.”
“It’s been quite a year.” Amara sat on the arm of his chair continuing to dry her hair. “I filed for divorce from Jack. Charissa and Dad died. And so much violence and fear.”
“Lots of losses,” Demetrius said, shooting her a look of empathy.
“Lots of gain, too.” She reached for his hand. “The charges against you were dropped. We’re an item,
