After Taryn, Joy made a long overdue call to her parents. She confessed the secret she’d promised Judy that she’d keep: Joy had been driving. She drove them off the road. She killed her sister, which her parents admitted they’d always suspected. But they didn’t blame Joy, never had. Instead they forgave her, and apologized that they hadn’t expressed their forgiveness when she first needed to hear it from them.

The call lasted several hours. There were tears and laughter, but they agreed to family therapy when Joy returned home.

As for Jack’s will, Dylan finally got hold of Rick. Rick had flown to the Bahamas for a spur-of-the-moment vacation and forgotten to mention it. The dick. But Rick figured Dylan was more than halfway through his road trip and had a good handle on his gigging commitments, along with other things of the female sort. After all, Dylan kept calling from the same number, a number that happened to be registered to a Joy Evers. In the end, all’s good, and Dylan will receive his inheritance. Westfield Records will get its influx of cash.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Dylan says when he reaches Joy. He wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her flush against him, and kisses her.

Her arms twine around his neck and fingers weave into his hair. He feels like he’s wrapped up in heaven.

“How’d it go?” she asks when he breaks the kiss. She hands him the beer she had waiting for him.

“Great.” He takes a deep drink of ale, quenching a throat parched from wheeling and dealing.

“Think Skylar will sign with Westfield?”

“Know so. Chase is on the phone with Legal as we speak. They’re drawing up the offer.”

“That’s fantastic.” She lifts her red Solo Cup to his and Dylan feels himself smiling.

The trip overseas has been advantageous for Westfield Records, more so than he anticipated. It’s also been enlightening. He’s discovered a whole different side to himself, a side he’s more at ease and peace with. He stopped fighting what he thought he didn’t want or couldn’t have.

He can’t wait for Joy to meet Billie. He can’t wait to bring her home. He hasn’t asked yet, but he wants her to live with him in Santa Monica. And if she thinks his two-bedroom condo is too small, no problem. He’ll sell Jack’s Malibu pad and buy a house on the beach. Joy can surf each morning and they can watch the sun set over the Pacific from their back deck every evening.

Joy’s eyes sparkle when she catches him watching her. “What?”

Dylan shakes his head with a smile. “Nothing. Just thinking about home.”

“Miss it?”

“Now that I know you’ll be there with me? Big-time.”

She sets aside her beer. “I’ve been thinking.”