Page 407 of Double or Nothing

“Which is?”

I take Jack’s arm and Bryce’s arm and wrap them over me. “It’s double or nothing.”

EPILOGUE

JACK

We viewed our new place at 10 a.m. the next morning, keen to play the winning hand as quickly as possible. It was such a dream to watch my duo of lovebirds explore the place like they belonged there, just as I’d imagined from the photos online.

Richmond is a perfect location. On the direct line to Mayfair, with a decent driving route, and a glorious view of the river from the terrace.

A jaw dropping modern place, with an emphasis on space, light and seamless indoor and outdoor living. That’s a terrace and a hot tub for you.

The heart of the home has a superb open plan kitchen, dining and family area, perfect for us and our trusty Toastique Pro. Six bedrooms, including a principal suite to die for. My God, the fuck fun we would be having in that place.

One bedroom that had Alice jumping up and down as the lighting would be so perfect for a studio. A cinema, games and playroom, which we’d use for its purposes. Just not necessarily the purposes the agent’s lens was seeing it through.

I expected Eli to have his eyebrows raised on his poker face when I told him my plans and asked for his help in cashing in some of my investment portfolio to accommodate, but he did it without question. Forget saving it up for a rainy day, he’d said. Enjoy a sunny one.

Words I’d never imagined hearing from his mouth.

BT and Soul Girl shook their heads, mouths open wide when I said I’d fund it. I mean, sure, Alice had a fair whack of auction money coming in, and Bryce had a decent chunk squirrelled away, but fuck that. I didn’t want it. I wanted to be the provider. I wanted to demonstrate in wealth what they had given me in life.

We were family now, after all. Through good times and bad. Through richer and poorer, and in sickness and in health. All that jazz.

Turns out I was the richer one without Alice’s Parker name attached to her, but who cared. I’d live in a garage with these two if it ever came to it.

The feeling was more bizarre than anything I’d encountered, right from the off.

Family. With people who loved me for me.

The last few months have been bizarre. A blur of brilliance.

Moving house is supposed to be one of the most stressful events of adult life, but I’ve been grinning my head off every step of the way. The blessings keep on coming.

Enquiries about Alice’s work piling in. Helena Mercer putting in a commission right from the off for a huge piece at nearly two million. And as for Bryce, the devoted workaholic. Well. Turns out that honesty and morality does work in Canary Wharf, at least sometimes.

Adrian Whitmore from Landia got in touch just two days after he’d learnt of Bryce’s resignation, offering him a salary nearly five times the rate he was on with Parker.

It’ll take another nine months for the exclusivity arrangement with Parker to end, but Whitmore is prepared to wait. And in the meantime, Bryce gets some free time. Time he’s never been used to…

Cue our huge garage being turned into an upcycling studio. No shit. Dungarees woman on his favourite show would have a field day with some of the battered old sideboards and chairs he’s been accumulating to give new life to. Maybe he’ll make it onto the TV one day with his efforts, who knows.

Hilariously Bryce. Brilliantly Bryce. Perfectly Bryce.

His true soul is coming to life. Just like Soul Girl’s. And just like mine, too.

We’re in the garden right now, Alice looking stunning in a floaty dress that shows off her legs. The time is here to do it. Fully moved in and prepared to begin our new life in our new home.

She drops what remains of her torn dress that her mother chose into the fire pit, then hands Bryce a tin of lighter fuel and a box of matches.

“I want you to do the honours,” she tells him.

Bryce doesn’t argue, just smiles. “Stand back,” he says. “This fucker is going to hell.”

“Exactly that,” Alice says.

“Wait up,” I say and pop the De Chante, filling three glasses. “Ok, go for it, BT.”