Epilogue
Four years later
Tobias
AMELIA
I’m going to be sick.
TOBIAS
You’ve got this. I promise you, baby. This is everything you’ve been working for.
AMELIA
You’re sitting where you always sit, right?
TOBIAS
I’m right here. If you need me, find my face.
Nineteen months ago, New York called, just as I'd always known they would. How could they not? Amelia was the kind of dancer who made people forget to breathe, and it was only a matter of time before someone came knocking. She'd just wrapped up her second tour with the Royal Chicago Ballet, and her name was starting to gain weight in the industry.
That someone happened to be from the New York Ballet—the dream.
They scouted her during a performance in Philadelphia, where her solo earned her a standing ovation that seemed to last forever.
I remember the way her hands trembled when she told me about the audition offer. Doubt threaded through her words like she couldn't see what was so obvious to the rest of us—that she was inevitable and that stages like New York were built for her.
She didn't just earn her spot in the New York Ballet—she claimed it like a queen claiming her throne. Like it had been waiting for her all along, and watching her step into her element, seeing her name on playbills, hearing people whisper about her—it's everything I always knew would happen for her.
New York didn't just call. They fucking begged.
The only hard part about leaving Chicago was saying goodbye to Jen and Harry, who are still lost in their own little world, completely wrapped up in each other, and to Logan and Harper, but we see them all as often as we can.
Logan and Harper got married last month, and it was beautiful—small, intimate, and perfect. It gave us a reason to head back to Chicago and spend time with the people who have been by our sides through everything.
Zane and Tessa moved to Dallas a while back, trading city chaos for suburban bliss, and as much as I miss them, weekly FaceTimes with Blondie, the professor, and their little terror, Kimmy, make the distance bearable.
That kid is a whirlwind of energy, all blonde curls and mischief, but the second she looks at me with those wide amber eyes and calls me "Uncle Tobes," I'm done for. Wrapped around her tiny, sticky little finger, and she's not even out of diapers yet.
When they visit in a few weeks, I'll finally get to scoop up their little princess again, and I know she'll have me melting into the most broody asshole ever. Something I blame Amelia for—her warmth, her huge heart, and the way she makes me want things I never thought I would.
Tonight is Christmas Eve, and my girl is stepping into the role of Clara in The Nutcracker —Amelia's first lead role in the City of Dreams, a role that makes or breaks careers, the one little girls dream about while clutching their first pair of ballet shoes. And tonight, my girl's taking center stage.
She's been part of the show since the season started, part of the ensemble cast that moves like one fluid entity. I've watched her blend into the background, making it look effortless, even though I know better. I've seen the bruises, kissed the blisters, and held her through the doubt.
When Francesca's family emergency left them without a Clara, the director didn't hesitate. One phone call, and suddenly, Amelia wasn't in the background anymore.
The last few weeks have been brutal. Beautiful, but brutal. She's pushed herself past breaking, then kept going. I've found her in the studio at midnight, hair falling out of her bun, sweat-soaked and shaking, running the same sequence again and again until even the mirrors looked tired. She's chased perfection like a woman possessed, and tonight, she's not just chasing it—she’s living it.
The theater is buzzing, the kind of hum that happens when magic is about to unfold. I'm sitting in the audience, surrounded by people who have no idea they're about to watch a girl from Pennsylvania set their precious stage on fire.
The lights suddenly dim. The audience falls silent, and my heart pounds so hard I swear the people next to me must hear it.
Show them, baby. Show them what you're made of.
My beautiful brunette is poised in absolute stillness, her silhouette carved from shadows and light like she's something otherworldly.
The moment stretches as if time itself doesn’t dare interrupt her. Then, with the faintest tilt of her head, her body starts to move, and it’s magic, the kind of beauty that makes you ache just to witness it.
I’ve watched her dance a thousand times before in studios, in rehearsals, and on stages, but never like this. This is different. This is Amelia stripped bare, pouring every ounce of herself onto that stage and commanding the world to see her.
And fuck, do they see her.
The audience is mesmerized, their collective breath held as she transforms the story into something alive, something that cuts straight to the soul. But me? I can’t focus on any of that. I’m too busy being destroyed by the woman I love.
My hands ache from gripping the armrests, and I swear, the second this is over, I'm kissing the hell out of her until she feels every ounce of the pride that's threatening to tear me apart right now. Because that goddess on stage? That force of nature wrapped in pale blue. She's mine. And I want to spend forever proving I deserve to be hers.
The music swells, and she soars—literally fucking soars—across the stage, and I know, with the kind of certainty that reshapes universes, that I'm going to marry her. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next month. But tonight, I'm going to look into those brown eyes and promise her everything. Because some people are meant for spotlights and standing ovations, and some people are meant to love them through it all—and I'm really fucking good at my job.
My fingers still, no longer twisting the loose ring buried deep in my jacket pocket.
My eyes lift just in time to see Amelia stepping shyly out from backstage, clutching a massive bouquet of flowers.
Her gaze sweeps over the crowd, searching until her eyes find mine. The way she pauses and the way her breath catches visibly, even from across the room, completely wrecks me.
I'm on my feet before I even realize I've moved, my heart pounding louder than the applause that rang through the theater. When I reach her, she doesn't hesitate, stepping into me like I'm the only thing keeping her grounded. My arms wrap around her tightly, lifting her off the ground as I bury my face in her neck, and her flowers tumble slightly to the side.
She melts into me, her fingers curling into my jacket like she’s afraid to let go. The second my lips touch hers, the rest of the world fades away.
"I'm so proud of you," I whisper, knowing that nothing I say could ever justify how I'm feeling right now.
"Ready to get out of here?" Amelia nods, and I slowly lower her back to the floor, keeping her close for a second longer than necessary.
She grabs my arm, her fingers curling around my bicep. "Can we go home?"
"Of course we can, Firefly. This is your night. We can do whatever you want." I brush a strand of hair from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Our apartment is our sanctuary. No parents, no past bullshit, no one else's expectations creeping into the corners. Just us, building something real, something solid. It's the one place where nothing can touch us.
Aside from the occasional guilt-laden phone call or the legal paperwork my dad insists I sign to keep the family business running, we have nothing to do with our parents. And honestly? Neither of us feels like we're missing out. The restaurant was the last time we saw them—the night we laid it all bare. The fallout was swift and messy, but there hasn't been a single regret between us. We walked away together and never looked back.
My dad's still planning to leave the company to Amelia and me because, in his twisted mind, the family name on the building means more than his feelings about our relationship.
It's a bitter irony, considering neither of us wants the damn thing.
I've spent weeks, hell, probably months, imagining tonight.
I've been thinking about what it means to propose to the woman of my dreams on Christmas Eve in New York City. Every cliché popped into my mind. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center, or standing under the sparkling tree, ring box in my hand as I drop to one knee. Or maybe in some fancy restaurant, with champagne flutes clinking and a pianist playing something soft and romantic in the background.
But none of it feels right. None of it feels like us .
So I wait. Not because I'm not ready—fuck, I think I've been ready since the first time I kissed her and knew I'd never want to kiss anyone else—but because the last thing Amelia needed was me dropping to one knee and asking her to split her focus when she was so close to everything she'd worked for.
The waiting has nearly killed me. I'd watch Mills dance every night, knowing the ring was right there. But I kept my mouth shut. Let her chase down her destiny without my neediness getting in the way.
But I'm done waiting.
Tonight she turned New York City into her bitch, and now I'm going to turn her into my fiancée.
We head back to the apartment—the one we've built together, not just with money, but with pieces of who we are. Amelia's part comes from her dancing, from hours spent perfecting her craft until her feet bled, from tours that took her across the country and exposed her to stages where people couldn't help but fall in love with her. Mine comes from the studio I built with nothing but ink, sweat, and sheer determination.
For a while, I traveled with her. Wherever her tours took her, I was there, borrowing space in other artists' shops, spreading my work across social media until the algorithms couldn't ignore me anymore. Long fucking days, but the nights were pure magic. Every city, every fleeting stay in a hotel room—it didn't matter where we were as long as she was next to me.
When we finally moved to New York, we knew we'd found our place. Amelia stepped into her dream with every rehearsal and every performance, and each one reminded her why she fought so hard to be here. Meanwhile, I built my studio from the ground up, turning it into the kind of place where people trust me to write their stories in permanent ink. Now I'm booked so far ahead it makes my head spin because when you pour your soul into something, the universe tends to notice.
But the real dream? It's not the standing ovations or the waitlist of clients. It's this. Coming home to her, falling asleep with her breath against my neck, and building a life together.
Some people chase fame, fortune, or whatever bullshit they think will fill the holes in their lives. But we found everything we needed in each other.
And tonight, I'm about to add another chapter to our story.
One that starts with a ring and ends with forever.
Amelia collapses onto the couch like her bones have turned to liquid, her legs sprawled out as though the weight of the world just left her body.
I sit down beside her and pull her feet into my lap, working the tension from the muscles I know are screaming. She winces slightly at the pressure, but when her eyes meet mine, there's a glow in them that I'll never forget.
"Tell me," I say softly, watching her face.
She stares at me for a moment, her lips curving into a slow, almost disbelieving smile. "I think that was one of the best moments of my life."
"You were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Mills."
"I saw you," she murmurs. "Before the lights came up, I saw you, and I knew I could do it."
I shake my head gently, still kneading her sore muscles. "You didn't need me out there. That was all you."
"Well, all of me is definitely feeling it now," she says with a laugh, shifting her legs slightly. "My body is aching."
Without another word, I lift her feet off my lap, bend down, and scoop her into my arms. She lets out a surprised laugh, wrapping her arms around my neck as I carry her to the bathroom. Gently, I set her down on the counter before turning to start running her a bath.
"You're very cute," she says with a teasing smile, her eyes watching me with a softness that makes my chest tighten.
"Nah," I reply with a smirk, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Don't mistake 'cute' for my very real need to get you out of these clothes and into this bath."
"Oh, I see. So really, this bath is for you."
"Win-win for both of us, baby."
The tub fills with warm water and lavender-scented bubbles while steam curls softly around us. I grab her coconut shampoo and place it beside the tub, ready to wash her hair. A couple of candles cast golden light across her skin as I undress her slowly, my lips following my hands across every inch of exposed skin. The way she responds, body arching, eyes darkening—it tests my self-control, but this is for her.
Once she's bare, I strip off my own clothes, letting them fall to the floor before lowering myself into the tub and pulling her in with me. She sinks back against my chest, her body warm and soft as I wrap my arms around her.
"Okay, I don't care what your motives are—this is just what I needed," she says, releasing a long, contented sigh as her head rests against my shoulder.
I press my lips against the nape of her neck. She tilts her head, giving me access to her skin, and I take it, trailing slow kisses along her shoulder, and I’m certain this is what heaven feels like.
I reach down, fingers finding the ring in my discarded jacket.
My heart kicks against my ribs like it's trying to break free as I grip it, the weight of forever solid in my palm.
Amelia is still reclined against my body, her head resting on my shoulder, completely unaware of what's about to happen.
"Mills?"
"Mmhmm," she hums lazily, her eyes still closed and entirely at ease in my arms.
"You know how insanely in love with you I am, don't you?"
Her lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she shifts slightly, her body pressing closer. "I do."
Those two words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath for a second, and god, I can't wait to hear her say them again.
Not just like this—but the way I've been dreaming about and in front of everyone we know. I want to hear them when she's wearing white, when she's promising me forever, and when she's making me the luckiest bastard alive.
"The day you tiptoed into my life was the day everything changed," I murmur, my voice soft yet laced with the kind of raw honesty I can only show her. "I was drowning in my own darkness, and then there you were. One look at you, and I knew my whole world was about to flip upside down in the best way." Amelia shifts slightly, turning her face just enough to look up at me. "You breathed life back into me, Firefly."
"Are you okay, baby?"
I smile down at her, gliding my fingers over her left hand as her body rests against mine. Slowly, I slide the ring onto her finger. It takes her a moment to feel it and realize what's happening. But when her eyes drop to her hand and then snap back to mine, I see everything. A love so deep it hurts, trust that could move mountains, excitement that could light up cities, and maybe a flash of fear. But mostly, I see her.
"Tobias…" Her voice trembles as her lips part.
"I know I'm supposed to ask first," I say, my thumb brushing over the ring as it sits perfectly on her finger, "but look how perfect that is, baby." She stares at it, her lips trembling as tears start to gather. "Since you haven't ripped it off and thrown it at my head, I'm going to assume you want this as much as I do. But just to make it official…"
I cup her face, tilting her chin so she can't look away. "Will you marry me, Firefly? Because all I want is to be your husband. And one day, when we're ready, I wanna give you babies too."
Her laugh explodes out of her like fireworks, and she twists around, sending half the bathwater onto our floor, but who gives a shit about water damage when she's grabbing my face and kissing me like this?
"Yes," she breathes out against my mouth, kissing me again and again. "Yes. God, yes."
I pull her closer, my arms wrapping tightly around her as she cradles my face in her hands. "I thought dancing on that stage tonight was the peak of my life," she says, her voice breaking as happy tears spill down her cheeks. "But nothing beats how this feels right now."
She sniffs, letting out this watery laugh that makes my heart squeeze. "Oh my god, Tobias. We're getting married."
"Hell yeah, we are, baby." I press my lips to hers again, my hands roaming over her back, memorizing the feel of her. "And I can't wait to call you my wife."
Forever starts right here.
Right now.
In this tub.
With this ring.
With us.
THE END