Epilogue

One Year Later

ROONEY

What New York City lacks in stars, it makes up for in twinkling skyscrapers. Jack and I draw imaginary lines with our fingers from building to building, creating constellations in the air.

“What’s that one?” I ask, testing Jack to see if he can guess the constellation.

He puffs out his cheeks as he thinks. “One more time.”

I form the shape with my pointer finger a second time, dragging my arm from an apartment across the street down to a lit-up office, over to the penthouse with Hudson River views, and back down to a twenty-four-hour gym.

“Pretty sure you just made that one up,” he says skeptically.

“And here I thought you were good at this,” I say with as serious a tone as I can muster. I did, in fact, make it up.

Jack wraps his arms around me as we watch the last bit of sunlight fade away, letting the darkness in. He kisses my cheek as I lean against him, pulling him closer to me.

This year, we’re on the rooftop of Mom’s apartment building for tonight’s Lantern Festival party, where everyone actually knows one another. Cream-colored lanterns are set up on tables, a déjà vu moment from two years ago. The only difference is that, tonight, Jack is no stranger.

In the absence of light, the illumination of the full moon grows, the night ticking forward. Yuè Lǎo will make his matches, tie imaginary strings to destined lovers. Watching people below us on the streets cross paths with one another, I smile at the thought. Any one of them could find their person tonight.

“Think we’ll see a comet?” I ask, looking out over the river, dusk settling in. It’s my favorite time of night, especially during the winter. Everything’s purple and hazy, like a soft filter has been added over the world. I’m wearing a new knit coat I made specifically for this trip. In my move to Los Angeles almost a year ago, I have become a little too accustomed to the warm weather.

Jack grunts. “Comets are extremely rare.”

I point to a blinking light in the distance. “Then what’s that?”

“Probably a satellite,” Jack answers.

“Oh. What about a shooting star? Let’s find one of those.”

“Maybe if we look closely. Or if we’re lucky enough to catch it streaking by. The odds aren’t good,” he says tentatively. “You know, you were a meteor in my life.”

“We didn’t physically collide, but I like to think our souls did. I didn’t cause too much damage, I hope,” I say.

“I came out unscathed, for the most part,” he says with a grin. “You came out of nowhere. Took me by surprise. When you entered my atmosphere, I didn’t know what the impact would be. But I’m very glad you didn’t just pass by.”

“I would’ve circled back around until you noticed me,” I say. “Even if that’s not how meteors work.”

Jack laughs. “You were a fated meteor. The ones you only see when you’re in the right place at the right time.”

“Wouldn’t that be a coincidence meteor?” I joke.

“That doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he says. His phone vibrates against his chest pocket. He taps on an app, revealing a camera that lets us keep an eye on Sprinkles back home in Pasadena. I peek over the side of his arm.

“Sprinkles had a big day. Gōng Gong went by earlier to feed her and watch a movie together. And now she’s currently lying on my slipper,” he says with a laugh.

“It’s either that or all my string,” I say, hugging Jack tighter. Nothing falling out of the sky could distract me from the man in front of me. All the shooting stars in the world could appear at this moment, and I wouldn’t even know. That’s how—

“Roo!” a voice calls out behind us, startling me.

Except for Mom.

I break from Jack’s gaze to see Mom and Dusty approaching us with their arms interlocked. As sweet as it is, the sight still takes some getting used to.

“Shit, it’s cold!” Mom says, rubbing her gloved hands together.

“California’s sounding better, right?” Jack asks.

Mom makes a horrified face. “Not even close, but if I can’t complain about the weather, what do I have in life?”

Dusty unbuttons his coat and wraps the enormity of it around Mom, sharing his body heat with her. She practically disappears under the cloth.

“Better, my love?” Dusty asks in his gruff voice. “You’d think I’d be the one suffering since I’m new to town.”

“All the armor that kept her warm has been removed. Now she’s vulnerable, exposed,” I say dramatically.

Beneath the fabric of Dusty’s coat, I can hear her laugh.

“NASA won’t be the same, or as clean, without you. Who’s going to keep that room in working order?” Jack asks Dusty.

Dusty chuckles. “It’ll be in good hands. I trained the guy but left him a little speck of a surprise as his final test. See if he can find it.” He adjusts his footing, rocking side to side and taking Mom with him. “Now I’ll be helping with preventing contamination in archives and museums at the Met,” he says proudly.

“That’s fantastic!” I say. “You could create a brand around yourself. Dust-Free with Dusty.”

“I like that. I might take it,” he says. “When the job opened up in the city where Wren lives, well, I knew it was meant to be. I’ve been lucky to have two dream jobs and now the dream woman. Nobody pinch me!”

Mom leans her head back against his chest to try to see his face. He hunches over to kiss her forehead. I’ve never seen her like this, but love looks good on her.

“What about yourself, Jack?” Dusty asks. “Is FATE still on track?”

Jack slides his hands into his coat pockets. “It had a few bumps, but it’s in a good place. We’re getting closer to launch. It’s exciting.”

After Jack transitioned out of being the liaison, he started mentoring junior engineers at the company. Within a couple of months, he was promoted to senior engineer on the team. It took time, but it’s like he said. What’s the rush? We’ll get where we’re going.

“What have you been working on lately, Wren?” Jack asks.

“I’ve been inspired lately by black holes and dying stars.” She peers up at me when she says this.

“There’s enough room in space for the two of us,” I say. “Whatever you’re up to, I’m sure it’ll be great. Your cacti collection was your most popular yet.”

“Big homes means big walls, and some people like to see inside their home what they can see outside their window,” Mom says with a shrug.

“Says the woman with a photograph of the city skyline in her living room,” I say.

“Hey, even those views are above my pay grade,” Mom says. “Besides, I’m happy to take your scraps while you think of the fresh ideas. When do you start installing your next work?”

“Next week,” I reply. “Once that’s set up, it’ll be on display through the spring and summer.”

I’m giddy at the thought of even having a next installation. After MoMA, more opportunities came along. Some I said no to. Most I said yes to. I am still at the beginning of my career. I finished out the rest of the NASA Artist-in-Residence program, which ended up getting more funding for the second year. I worked with Nick for the remaining months until they could find a new mission liaison.

Jack has joined me on multiple work trips, and when he doesn’t, we still talk every day. I’m never gone for long. I’m working on taking my art back to the streets and am working with cities so my installations can be public and free for anyone and everyone. I’m also reaching for the stars in places I wouldn’t have been able to get permission for pre-NASA, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Great Wall of China, and the Statue of Liberty.

Anyone would be hard-pressed to say that FATE didn’t change my life.

“I’m excited to come along for this one. I have a couple more weeks of PTO,” Jack tells everyone. “I haven’t been abroad in years.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Mom smiles. “Rooney, your next installation may be a little harder to mess with. Take that, litterers.”

“Why? Where is it?” Dusty asks.

“Paris.” I wave my hands up in the air, inviting them to envision what I’m about to say. “Feux D’Artifice will be strung up at the Eiffel Tower with silver string as an homage to the nightly sparkle.”

“It’ll be the most awe-inspiring fireworks Paris has ever seen,” Jack says proudly. “RSG’s latest creation.”

As soon as I outed myself, fans started calling me RSG as a nod to my real name and my former one. After all this time, it’s stuck, and I’ve never felt more like myself.

Jack embraces me. He and I, we see each other. We’ve always seen each other, just from our own perspectives. It wasn’t about trying to change each other but to be seen in ways we each needed. The reality is that we’ll continue to grow and change, but together. Our beliefs will evolve over time, but our values will strengthen in the places that matter.

Is Jack the man at the other end of my red string? I like to think so. It’s a romantic notion that ultimately led me to him. If I hadn’t believed in the myth, believed in the man on the moon tying strings to ankles, I never would have found Jack. But even still, I choose him every single day. And he chooses me.

Talia joins us, bearing large bowls filled with tāngyuán. We each scoop up a peanut-butter-filled rice ball with a porcelain soup spoon.

Talia, whose gallery has been thriving, may not have found her stringmate yet, but she fell in love with weekend hikes, driving, and the sun. She, too, traded her city boots for flip-flops. It’s incredible having my best friend out West with me. I miss Mom and New York, particularly in the winter, and the city will always be home. Who knows? Maybe something will bring us back here one day.

After a few more bites of tāngyuán, Jack and I lift our reasonably sized cream paper lantern.

“These are much smaller,” I say, lifting the lantern up and down to estimate its weight.

Jack rubs the material between his fingers. “I put in a request to your mom for a material that disintegrates faster and is made of completely natural ingredients. This way it’s better for the planet.”

Mom, Dusty, and Talia each huddle over their own earth-friendly lanterns.

I place ours on one of the community rooftop tables. This time, Jack and I can see each other over the top. He removes the Discipline Pen from his pocket. “What should this year’s wishes be?” he asks.

I take the pen from him. “Here. How about this?”

I write against the thin paper, careful not to puncture it.

“That’s perfect,” he says.

“There’s no wind tonight,” I say, holding up my scarf to see if it’ll move.

“We should launch it from that side,” Jack says, scanning the rooftop. “A corner led to good things last time.”

We place the candle in the base of the lantern and carefully light it. The light from the flame bounces off the walls of the lantern, casting a glow on the lower halves of our faces as we wait for it to fill with heat. We know it’s ready to go when the lantern tugs our hands up, trying to break free from our grip.

Jack counts down slowly and seriously, like this is the mission of a lifetime. On the count of three, we let go.

We angle our heads back, watching as our lantern floats higher and higher into the night. It floats up smoothly on its own pathway to the universe.

I won’t know where it’ll go or land or who might see it, but that’s okay. Tonight, I don’t need to know any of it. All I need to know is that I have Jack by my side. It’s better than any wish I could’ve written over the years.

The words on the side of our lantern decrease in size, our wish being sent out into the world, wherever it may end up. I whisper the words out loud: “May fate bring us close enough to choose.”

I rest my head against Jack’s chest, feeling the beat of his heart through the unzipped part of his coat.

“What is it?” Jack asks, his voice booming inside my ear. “I can hear you thinking.”

“You’re not the tiniest bit curious where it’s going?” I ask. I can’t help it.

Jack laughs. “Okay. You know what? Let’s follow it,” he says, angling his body to face me.

“Seriously?” I don’t even try to sound calm about the prospect of chasing another lantern through the streets.

He runs his hands down my arms and finds my hands, tangling his fingers with mine. “Why not? Let’s see where it leads us tonight.”

“You’re the best choice I’ve ever made,” I whisper.

Jack’s eyes burn into mine. “It was hardly a choice.”

Then, by string or gravitational force or choice, I’m pulled into him, my lips on his. The planets have aligned, our orbits following the same path. There’s nowhere else in this entire universe that I’d rather be. In a galaxy filled with planets and stars and endless unknowns, sometimes when we’re really lucky, we end up getting the best of two worlds.

“You ready to go find that lantern?” Jack asks.

I give his hands a light squeeze. “Let’s go.”