Falling into the Ship of Dreams (Jack Dawson love story)

Epilogue

"Fine, I'm up," she mumbled, running a hand through her hair as she sat up.

"Good. Your breakfast is ready," said Edwin as he finished placing the covered dishes on the small, two-seated, glass table that was placed by the window that displayed the city.

"Have there been any calls?" Avery asked as she helped herself to her warms scrambled eggs.

"None of urgent manner. You've received some e-mails, one from Rachel regarding Mr. Cameron. I flagged the message so you would know which one it is. You've gotten a lot of mail."

"Any regarding the house?"

Edwin smiled as he helped himself to his meal. "Yes, actually. The payment is completed; this mansion is officially yours."

Avery sighed in content. "Finally. I may die in peace," she said in a joking manner.

Edwin chuckled at her subtle theatrics. "Not just yet, Miss Dawson."

Avery smiled and shook her head, knowing it would be useless to scold him for calling her so. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?" she asked as she reached over to her glass of orange juice.

"Yes, you have a visitor. However, I think it would be best if you finish your breakfast first; I do believe you will be in for quite a shock, and I honestly don't want you to spend another few days without eating from shock," he said quickly.

Avery frowned. She understood his concern; there had been many times she'd gone into shock, and she'd spend the next few days after that without eating. But what about the visitor would make her go into shock?

She sighed, choosing not to argue. "Alright. Has the visitor been seen to?"

"Yes," said Edwin, with a small relieved smile. "He is currently eating the morning meal I offered him."

"He?"

Edwin smiled. "You will have to finish your meal before you could see who it is, Miss Dawson."

She pouted slightly, but agreed nonetheless. A few twenty minutes later, the both of them had finished their meals, and Avery was once again alone in her room. She stood in front of her mirror, hand moving her large brush through her hair bringing it out of its morning wild curls into a smoother, wavier tone. She then put her hairbrush down and bit her lip as she wondered rather she should change into something more appropriate to greet her guest, or stay as she was in her sleepwear— tank top and shorts.

Shrugging to herself, . She could do as she pleased. She soundlessly walked down the large wooden staircase, slipping on her robe along the way before stepping onto the marble ground. She then glided across the floor, her robe she'd left hanging loosely on her body, swooshing behind her with every step, only settling once she stood in front of the door of the main lounge. She hesitated for a moment before opening the door, quietly closing it behind her.

There was a man. She couldn't tell whether it was someone she knew or not as his back was facing her; he was looking up at the large portrait that hung above her fireplace. It was the one she'd painted of Jack, not so long ago. She squinted her eyes slightly, her brows furrowing as a wave of familiarity washed over her.

How could she find familiarity from looking at someone's back?

Shaking her head to herself, she stepped away from the shadows that surrounded the door, and walked forward. Passing her desk, she cleared her throat, causing the man to spin on his heels.

The world suddenly stopped. Her heart and mind stopped, but the rest of her did not.

Her eyes widened and stumbled backward, her hip bumping hard against one corner of her desk. She, however, paid no attention to the pain shooting through her side as she took in what she thought was a vision too vivid to be considered a hallucination.