Epilogue

Six Months Later.

The skyscraper was halfway built. It was under budget and ahead of schedule, a statistical anomaly that baffled the industry.

Leo walked down the street, carrying two coffees. He was whistling.

He turned the corner toward a storefront with a new sign: *Serendipity Events: We Plan Happy Accidents.*

He pushed the door open.

Thalia was on a ladder, hanging a banner for a wedding. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that said *Pizza Queen*.

"Hey," Leo said.

Thalia looked down. Her eyes lit up. "Leo! Watch out for the—"

Leo stepped on a loose floorboard. He stumbled forward. The coffee went flying.

Thalia dropped from the ladder.

She didn't use magic. She used reflexes. She caught him—sort of. Mostly she just broke his fall, and they ended up on the floor in a puddle of latte.

"You dropped the coffee," Thalia tutted, wiping foam off his nose.

"I was distracted by the view," Leo grinned.

"Smooth," Thalia kissed him. "For a guy covered in milk."

Leo looked at her. She was aging. She had a tiny wrinkle by her eye when she smiled. She was fragile, and human, and perfect.

"You know," Leo said, "I think that vase was the best five dollars I ever spent."

"Best investment of your life," Thalia agreed. "Now, help me up. My human knees are complaining."

They stood up together, slipping a little, laughing a lot, ready to face whatever mess the universe threw at them next.