Epilogue #2
As they walked away, probably telling every friend about talking with a pro player, I felt something click into place. This was what mattered—not trophies or headlines or money, but how the game connected people, built communities, gave kids something to dream about.
“You’re going to have to actually show up now,” Tara said, appearing with two champagne glasses. “You know that, right?”
“I know. And I will.” I took the champagne gratefully. “Might be good for me. Keep things in perspective.”
“You don’t need help with perspective anymore.” She clinked her glass against mine. “You’ve got that figured out.”
Did I? Some days I still felt like I was discovering who I was without the guilt and shame that had defined me for so long.
But Tara had a point—something fundamental had changed.
The anger that used to eat me alive was gone, replaced by something steadier, more focused.
I played the best soccer of my career, but more importantly, I enjoyed it again.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Vicente’s voice boomed over the speakers. “If I could have your attention one more time!”
The crowd quieted, turning toward the stage where Vicente stood with his arm around Isabella. She glowed with happiness, her tiara catching light from the crystal chandeliers.
“I want to thank everyone for celebrating my daughter’s quinceanera,” Vicente continued. “But special thanks to our guest of honor, Mr. Xander McCrae, who kept his promise even when he had every reason not to.”
Applause rippled through the room, and I felt my face heat up. I wasn’t used to praise for basic decency, but in Vicente’s world, keeping your word probably was rarer than it should be.
“Mr. McCrae showed my family what real character looks like,” Vicente said, finding me in the crowd. “And that’s a lesson worth more than all the money in the world.”
More applause, with whistles and shouts of approval. I raised my glass in acknowledgment, trying not to dwell on the irony. Here I was, praised for character by a man who probably ordered hits for breakfast.
But life was full of contradictions, wasn’t it? Vicente was a criminal and a devoted father. Diego had been my enemy before becoming an ally. Hank claimed to love his children while destroying them both.
Maybe what defined a person wasn’t their contradictions, but how they resolved them when it mattered.
“And now,” Vicente announced, “let’s dance!”
The band launched into something with a driving beat that sent younger guests flooding the dance floor.
I watched Isabella spin with her friends, her dress a pink blur as she laughed with pure joy.
Fifteen years old with her whole life ahead.
I hoped she’d make better choices than I had at that age.
“Want to dance?” Tara asked, already pulling me toward the couples.
“Oh no, I suck at this,” I protested, but let her drag me along anyway.
“You’re just self-conscious. Don’t worry about it.”
She was right, as usual. On the field, I could read the game perfectly, anticipate movements, place the ball exactly where needed. But put me on a dance floor, and I turned into a collection of awkward limbs with zero rhythm.
Tara moved like she was born dancing. She guided me through the steps with patient amusement, her body warm against mine as we swayed.
“See?” she said, her breath tickling my ear. “You’re not so bad after all.”
“I’m stepping on your feet.”
“Only occasionally. And I have good insurance.”
I laughed despite myself, pulling her closer. This was happiness—not the wild, desperate high I’d chased in clubs, but something more sustainable. The simple pleasure of holding the woman I loved while mariachi played and fairy lights twinkled overhead.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Tara said, looking up with those dark eyes that had haunted my dreams for over a decade.
“Just thinking how different everything is now.”
“Different how?”
I watched over her shoulder as Leo attempted to dip his new friend and nearly dropped him. “A month ago, I thought my career was over. Hell, I thought my life was over. Now I’m dancing at a quinceanera with the woman I love, and tomorrow I get to play the sport that made me who I am.”
“And?”
“And I’m grateful. For all of it, even the painful parts. If none of that had happened, if your father hadn’t brought me here, if we hadn’t gone through everything... we might never have found each other again.”
Tara went quiet, her fingers tracing patterns on my neck. “You really believe that? That it was all worth it?”
“Don’t you?”
She smiled, transforming her face in ways that still knocked the wind out of me. “Yeah. I do. Even the obsession wall.”
“ Especially the obsession wall. That thing was a masterpiece.”
“Shut up,” she laughed, swatting my shoulder. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Not a chance. I’ll still tease you about it when we’re eighty.”
The words slipped out unplanned. When we’re eighty. Like our future together was inevitable, and as natural as breathing.
Tara’s eyes widened slightly, and I panicked, wondering if I’d pushed too far too fast. We’d never discussed long-term, too busy surviving the present to plan for a future that seemed impossible weeks ago.
But then her smile brightened, enough to outshine the chandeliers. “Eighty, huh? That’s a long time to perfect your dance moves.”
“I’ll need every minute of it.”
The song ended, shifting to something slower and more romantic.
Around us, couples moved closer, the energy changing from celebration to intimacy.
Vicente and his wife swayed near the stage, lost in each other despite the crowd.
Twenty years married, according to Isabella, still looking at each other like teenagers in love.
“Want to get some air?” I asked. The ballroom was getting hot, and French doors led to what looked like a terrace.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
We slipped away from the dance floor, the thrum of the party fading into a gentle pulse behind us. The terrace was a quiet haven, the air blissfully cool. Below, the golf course stretched out like a dark velvet sea under a canopy of stars.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Tara murmured, leaning her hips against the stone railing.
“Yeah, it is.” My gaze was fixed on her—the way the moonlight caught in her hair, the gentle curve of her smile. My entire world had tilted on its axis and found its new center right here.
“Tara?” My voice was rougher than I intended.
She turned to face me fully, her eyes searching mine. “Xander?”
“I meant what I said in there. About being eighty with you, sitting on some porch complaining about our knees.”
A flicker of a smile touched her lips. “Did you?”
“More than I’ve ever meant anything.” I stepped closer, my hands finding her waist. “I know this is crazy. I know it’s only been a month. But this… us… it’s the only thing that’s ever felt completely real.”
“Xander,” she breathed. “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old. I’ll love you when I’m eighty. We’ll figure it all out. Together.”
I lowered my head and kissed her, a kiss that wasn't about passion, but about promise.
It was soft and slow and tasted of salt and absolution.
In the distance, the city lights sparkled, but right here, on this terrace, we had created our own universe.
This was our beginning, the first page of a story free from lies, finally written in our own words.
When we broke apart, Tara rested her forehead against mine, eyes closed and breathing uneven.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
“Now we go home,” I said. “We wake up tomorrow and go to work and have dinner and watch terrible movies and fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes. We do all the boring, normal things that people in love do.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
We stood there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms and the quiet peace of the night.
Inside, the party continued without us—Isabella dancing with her friends, Vicente holding court with his associates, Leo charming his new conquest. The world kept spinning, life kept happening, but for this moment, it was just us.
Jimmy's final request had taken twelve years to fulfill, had cost both Tara and me more than we'd ever imagined paying. But being here now, feeling her heart beat against mine, I knew it had been worth every moment of pain.
I'd taken care of Tara-bean, just like I'd promised. And somewhere, I hoped Jimmy knew that we were going to be okay. More than okay.
We were going to be happy.
Thank you for joining Xander on his intense journey to find love and truth in Miami.
If you’re new to the family, go back and discover what happens when Xander’s twin brother—Sean McCrae—meets his match in One Night in Glasgow.