Epilogue One Year Later #2
Freddie considered. He and Anne had talked about getting married.
Of course they had. Back in college, it had seemed like a sure thing, an inevitable future that they didn’t need to plan for, so they took it for granted.
Now, so many years later, they understood the gravity, the nuance.
But most importantly, they both appreciated the time.
Not only how much was ahead, but how much had passed.
They had wasted years already and the idea of spending any more time apart sent a unique panic through his bloodstream.
Suddenly, he couldn’t remember what he was waiting for.
Unlike Emma, Anne wanted to get married.
She always had. And unlike Lizzy, she didn’t have any major milestones she was waiting to accomplish.
Anne had moved in with him last spring and reclaimed her old bedroom as her office.
They even started a tradition by picking the worst Christmas tree on the lot again this year.
Its almost-bare branches were still decorated in their living room.
As for Freddie, he had wanted to marry her since the first moment he saw her freshman year. Everything was right there, just waiting to be realized. And suddenly his mind zeroed in on the note sitting in his wallet. The one that had been there for more than a decade.
The song reached its crescendo and the room was cheering so loudly it was impossible for the men to continue their conversation. Not that they would want to, anyway. Anne, Lizzy, and Emma had stolen their attention, swaying together as they practically yelled the song’s final lyrics.
“Are you ready, boots? Start walkin’!”
Applause erupted around them as the women bowed, then stumbled from the stage directly to where the three men were standing by the bar.
Anne leaned into Freddie’s side while Emma fell into George’s embrace, planting a kiss on his lips.
Lizzy stopped in front of Will even as his arms encircled her waist.
“Well, that settles it. I’m quitting journalism so we can take this act on the road,” Lizzy said, tossing her red hair over one shoulder.
Will hummed to himself, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Right. So that job that’s waiting for you at the Times…”
Lizzy shrugged as she let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, but the public demands it.”
Will stopped trying to school his expression then and tugged her forward to kiss her.
Freddie turned to look down at Anne. She had her chin resting on his chest, gazing out across the room with a look of contentment that made Freddie’s chest constrict again.
From joy, yes, but also an odd anxiety that sometimes needled his heart at moments like this.
A reminder that this could have all ended so differently.
The series of events that brought them back together could have just as easily kept them apart.
The what-ifs were almost overwhelming. And suddenly, the idea of waiting any longer felt ridiculous.
He leaned down, his lips close to her ear. “Take a walk with me?”
She turned to look up at him, her eyebrows pinched together. “Why?”
“I have to ask you something,” he murmured.
She smiled but didn’t object, just turned back to the two other couples. “We’re heading outside for a sec.”
This was enough to pull Emma’s lips away from George and give a disapproving look to Freddie. “It’s cold out.”
He glared back. “We have coats.”
“Whoever told you that incivility was the essence of love never made their date stand outside in below-zero temperatures, Frederick,” Lizzy said, working hard to make her voice sound deep and stern.
Emma let out a drunken snort. “You called him Frederick.”
Then they both laughed.
Freddie sighed. “We’ll be right back.”
He took Anne’s hand and led them through the crowd to the front door, then out onto the sidewalk.
He kept a firm grip on her hand as they continued down Avenue A, around the corner to a quieter section of Thirteenth Street.
The sound of the city faded a bit as he leaned them up against the brick facade of the building.
“Hey,” he said, leaning down, his face just inches from hers.
“Hey,” she whispered back.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he murmured.
Her smile broadened. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
“No. I’ll get to that. But first, I have a confession,” he said.
“What’s that?” she asked, staring up at him, her lips still quirked in a smile, and he had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss her.
“You know those notes I’ve been writing to you for a while?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m familiar.”
“Well, there’s one that I never got around to giving you.”
She paused. “What do you mean?”
His heart tripped as he pulled her closer. “Remember the night we first met? You were sitting alone at the Half Pint, reading a book at the bar. I was there with friends, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I spent over an hour getting up the courage to go over and ask you what you were reading.”
“And when I told you it was A History of Pi, you spent ten minutes talking about whether cheesecake is a cake or a pie.”
He chuckled. “I thought you were just really into baking.”
She let out a soft laugh, too. “You were very charming when I corrected you.”
“And then we talked for hours,” he said, brushing his nose against hers.
“Until last call,” she whispered. He could feel her warm breath against his cold cheeks.
“Then I walked you out to make sure you got a cab,” he replied. “But before I left, I went back inside and wrote this.”
He straightened enough to pull his wallet from his pocket, then reached inside to retrieve the flimsy paper triangle still slotted inside.
He knew she would recognize the shape, but the small details seemed to give her pause.
The corners that were worn down, the thin paper, almost like it wasn’t paper at all. More like a napkin.
“What’s that?” she asked, her eyes wide now.
“The only note of mine you don’t have yet. The first one.”
She reached up and slowly took it from his fingers. “You held on to this for over a decade?”
He nodded. “It was in my wallet. Everywhere I went, it was there with me.”
Her attention was still on the small piece of paper, and it took her a moment to blink away and bring her gaze up to his. Tears were already forming in the corners of her eyes.
“I want you to read it,” he said, his voice low. “And when you’re done, I have something very important to ask you.”
She smiled. And suddenly, he could feel tears in his own eyes, too. Yes, it could have all ended so differently. But it hadn’t. She was his once more, and he would never let her go again. And with that thought, he watched as she slowly unfolded the napkin and began reading.
Annie—It’s Friday, December 19th, and a little while ago, you were sitting at the bar reading a book and I interrupted you.
I had no idea what to say, but you didn’t ask me to leave.
And then we had one of the best conversations of my life.
You left a few minutes ago, and now I’m back in the bar, wondering when I’ll be brave enough to tell you what I knew the minute you smiled at me: I’m going to ask you to marry me someday, Anne Elliot.
And I’ve never looked forward to something more in my entire life.
—Freddie