Epilogue
VICTORIA
Six months later
Y ou’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, though I know his answer.
“And spoil the surprise?” Noah says. “No way, sweetheart.”
I can’t see him through the blindfold, but I know he’s smirking over there in the driver’s seat. There’s the telltale rumble of cobblestones beneath the tires, and based on how long we’ve been driving, that means we’re in one of the historic districts of downtown Charleston.
“Is this a dinner cruise?” I ask, immediately feeling anxious about being packed on a boat with a bunch of strangers on New Year’s Eve. Although seeing the fireworks in the harbor would be amazing.
“Nope.”
“Carriage ride?”
He snorts. “Please, Griffin. You deserve better than the typical touristy stuff. And you know I strive for first-rate surprises.”
I grin as he parks the car and cuts the engine. In a flash, he’s opening my door and helping me out onto the sidewalk, one hand clutching mine and the other looped around my waist as I find my footing. I can see the tiniest sliver of pavement and grass through the bottom of the blindfold, but I won’t peek because Noah’s probably been planning whatever this is for weeks.
The man delights in surprising me. And as it turns out, I like surprises when they come from a place of love. And the surprises that Noah cooks up? They’re the best.
Well, except for that one with the terrifying bridge over the bottomless gorge in the mountains—but even that one worked out all right in the end.
“About twenty steps on the pavement,” he says, slipping his arm through mine. He leads me a few paces down a sidewalk, then turns onto a walkway lined with palmettos that brush against my arm as we pass.
A floral scent hangs in the air, mixed with the comforting woodsy scent that’s all Noah. With one hand at my lower back, he leads me up two steps and then pauses as he punches a key code into a door. After two tiny beeps, the bolt flips, and he ushers me inside. My boot heels clack on the hardwood floor, and I immediately feel more at ease. This is no restaurant—it feels like a home. The air is fresh inside and warmer, with a hint of cloves that must be left over from the holidays.
“Now?” I ask, touching the blindfold.
He places his fingers over mine and leans close. His lips move against my ear as he whispers, “Not yet.”
Before I can reply, he scoops me over his shoulder into a firefighter’s carry and heads up a flight of stairs. My heart hammers in my chest as I shriek in surprise and tug at the hem of my skirt.
“You better not drop me, Valentine,” I say between giggles.
He gives my backside a playful smack, earning another shriek from me.
“Have a little faith, Griffin,” he says, his voice doing that sexy-rumble that I will never, ever get tired of hearing.
I have nothing to worry about, though. With Noah, I always know I’m safe. The sky could shatter around us, and he wouldn’t let me go.
The floorboards creak under his feet, and then I hear the sound of another door opening. A breeze lifts my hair as he sets me back down on my feet. His face is just inches from mine when he slides his fingers along my cheeks and slips the blindfold off.
The first thing I see is his mischievous grin. He’s proud of himself, and soon I see why.
We’re standing on a small balcony that’s decorated with huge potted plants and strings of outdoor lights. With a canvas canopy covering half the sitting area, it’s like a little oasis. The houses here are close enough together that you can see straight into everyone’s tiny yard, but the plants around us create a privacy screen so we’re hidden from view. I’m still taking in all the details when I realize that this isn’t just any vacation rental—it’s the balcony where we met.
“Noah,” I breathe.
“My uncle can’t bring himself to sell this place,” he says. “He’s out of town for the week and offered to let us stay.” He gives me a tiny shrug. “New Year’s getaway.”
“Can’t say I blame him. Is that awesome little bakery still right down the block? Because if so, I wouldn’t want to let go of this house, either.”
“Ah,” Noah says, holding his finger up. “That reminds me.” He ducks back inside through the French doors, leaving me to soak up the last few rays of the sun. I’d forgotten how this corner of the neighborhood lights up during the golden hour, all the bricks bathed in warm light as the sun sinks below the tree line.
The balcony’s had some serious upgrades since I was last here—including a new iron railing, new floorboards, and a small table that comfortably sits two. Long gone are the rickety ladder of the fire escape and the beat-up chairs where we once sat dressed as a reluctant superhero and a cheeky wood nymph. Now, the cute bistro-style table is set with a big bouquet of fresh-cut lilies, surrounded by tea light candles and hanging holiday cacti bursting with blooms. This looks like a photo from a magazine, from the bright-colored rug to the wicker loveseat and the wind chimes.
When he comes back out, he’s carrying an open bottle of wine and two stemless glasses, looking effortlessly sexy in his slim-cut jeans and green wool sweater. After all the traveling with camps over the last few months, it’s nice to be in a quiet place, just the two of us. Between the kids’ camps and overnight stays at Noah’s, I’ve barely spent a night in my own home since the summer. Hannah just found a new apartment two weeks ago, and though I haven’t officially moved in with Noah, he’s asked me to about a hundred times.
As he fills our glasses, he says, “I considered whisking you away to a more exotic location for our time off. But I needed to discuss something with you, and this place seemed more appropriate for that.”
I give him a teasing finger-wave. “If this is another shameless attempt to get me to officially move in with you?—”
“Nah,” he says with a smile. “We’ll get to that part when you’re ready. You just say the word.” We’ve talked about our next move several times, but I can’t imagine selling my house—formerly my Aunt Bernice’s that she left to me. I know I won’t live in Jasmine Falls forever, and maybe not much longer, because commuting to Charleston when we’re in the off-season isn’t the greatest. But I can’t quite make myself sell the house yet. I’m not ready to cut ties with my hometown entirely.
He hands me my wine and clinks his glass against mine. “To the new year,” he says, holding my gaze. “And to our next adventure, wherever it might take us.”
“To second chances,” I add.
He smiles and sips his wine. “You know,” he says, “When I first met you on this balcony, I was thinking of transferring to a different college.”
“Really?” I ask.
He nods, leaning against the railing. Above him, the fairy lights blink on, the sky around us finally turning a dusky purple.
“I never felt like I fit in at C of C,” he says. “That weekend, I’d pretty much decided to leave. I was just working out logistics.” He leans closer, nudging my shoulder. “But then I met a girl with antlers and adorable freckles who’d spend hours talking to me about stuff that left me curious and amazed—and that changed everything.”
“You’re serious, aren't you?”
He shrugs. “You get me, Griffin. You saw all my messy parts, my weird parts, and you were still all in. Not everyone gets to have someone like you.”
“I felt the same way about you,” I tell him. “Still do.”
He smiles. “Then I’d say that makes me one of the luckiest.”
“That’s about the best we can hope for, isn’t it?” I ask. “Someone who loves us because of all our messy parts, and not in spite of them.”
He clinks his glass against mine again, his eyes a deep green in the fading light.
“I’m really glad you didn’t transfer,” I tell him, and something tugs deep in my chest as I consider: it’s a wonder we met each other at all. And then running into each other at the institute this summer? I’m not a person who believes in destiny, but Gwen would tell me that’s the universe working overtime to bring us what we need.
This time, I’m inclined to believe her.
“That party was terrible,” I quip. “But it’s still the best night I ever spent on a balcony. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
Smirking, he steps closer and slips his arm around my hips. “We can do better.”
Before I can reply, he drops to one knee. He pulls my hand to his lips, and my heart flutters like a bird. His gaze locks on mine, so tender and full of love, and my knees wobble the way they always do when Noah looks at me this way—like I’m the most precious part of his world.
“Victoria Griffin,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I’ve wanted to ask you this a thousand times, and I can’t wait one more day.” He pulls a ring from his pocket and holds it in the space between us, the fingers of his other hand laced in mine. “You are, by far, the best adventure. And the one that matters most.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “Will you marry me?”
I sink to my knees and pull his face to mine. When I kiss him, he folds his arms around me and holds me tight like he never wants to let me go. I kiss him until I’m breathless, seeing little pinpoints of light, and then topple against him and knock him off-balance. He laughs as he tumbles backward and pulls me onto his lap.
“Is that a yes?” he asks.
“Of course it’s a yes,” I tell him, sliding my hand along his chest. “A thousand times, yes.”
He slips the ring on my finger, a modest diamond that catches the light like a star. He loops his arms around my waist and holds me close, his eyes searching mine.
“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
I’m sure I couldn’t predict what that might be, even if I tried—and I’m perfectly okay with that because I know that the future that unfolds with Noah is the best one of all. There will be plenty of messy parts because that’s what happens when two lives intertwine—but the messy moments are how you build something amazing together. Something that grows.
Something that lasts.
“I heard you’re supposed to ring in the new year doing something you want to do more of,” I tell him, raking my fingers through his hair. “Set the tone.”
“You say that like you have some ideas,” he says, his eyes darkening with mischief. He dips his head, nuzzling my neck in that way he knows makes me melt.
“I certainly do,” I answer. When I tug his hair, he growls with impatience, and my heart bangs against my ribs. If I lived two lifetimes, I’d still never get enough of this man.
He slips a hand under my sweater, to the small of my back. “I wonder how similar they are to my ideas.”
“Only one way to find out, Valentine.”
He’s on his feet in a flash, pulling me against him as he laughs a raucous laugh that lights me up and promises that this moment—on one tiny balcony under a vast canopy of stars—is only the beginning.
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