Epilogue
Theo
Noah stops by to check out the theater, now nearly twelve months deep into major renovations.
I give him the walkthrough, pointing out what’s been finished and filling him in on the plans still in motion.
By the end of the tour, we hang out in the lobby, standing in front of the sleek, modern concession stand that was installed two weeks ago.
“So, what do you think?” I ask.
Noah’s one of the few people I consider a close friend. He’s also one of the only ones who’ll give it to me straight. Business brain first, bullshit second.
Over the last year, we’ve spent enough late nights around his poker table for me to know he won’t sugarcoat it. Whether it’s cards or career moves, Noah typically calls it like he sees it.
“It was a risky move, but you know what, you pulled it off. The place looks incredible.”
I nod, then hesitate for half a second before asking the real question. “Do you think Marley will like it?”
His grin is immediate. “Like it? She’s going to love it.” Then, with a shake of his head, he adds, “You know, early on when I said look out for her, I didn’t mean you had to go and buy a whole-ass theater in her honor.”
“Have you ever had to watch the woman you love be heartbroken over something you had total control over? I would do the same thing over and over again, every time, just to make her happy.”
“Speaking of which …” From my pocket, I pull out a small leather box, the weight of it heavier than you’d expect from something so small. “I was wondering if you’d give your blessing for me to ask your cousin to marry me?”
Noah’s eyes nearly fall out of his head. He blinks at me, fully in shock.
I exhale, running a hand over my jaw. “I know it’s old school, and you’re not her father or anything. But you’re family and like a brother to her. So, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it before I asked.”
I barely finish my sentence before he pulls me into a bone-crushing bear hug, clapping me on the back.
“Welcome to the family, bro.”
Being the awkward, hating-physical-contact-unless-it’s-from-Marley type that I am, I pat his back a few times before stepping away. “She has to say yes first.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course, she’ll say yes. Don’t sweat it.”
I nod, pretending I’m not the least bit worried.
Internally?
It’s a five-alarm fire, flashing SOS signals, a full-blown crowd riot of self-doubt.
This is the same woman who, straight off the bat, told me she never wanted to get married. And yeah, we’ve talked about it since then. She’s mentioned she’s had a change of heart and is now open to the idea.
But still. What if she takes one look at me on one knee and realizes she’s not as sure as she thought?
As a CEO, my job is to weigh risks. There’s no denying that there’s a very real possibility she could say no.
I’d respect it. I’d also be completely fucking wrecked, disappear into my reclusive cave forever, and live the rest of my days as an emotionally unavailable hermit.
Because after loving Marley, nothing else could ever compare.
We’ve spent these last months growing closer, learning everything we possibly can about the other.
A year ago, I was pitching my idea to the board about renovating the theater instead of our initial demolish decision.
There was pushback, as expected, but I won them over with a long-term vision: a modernized, multi-use space that could host everything from live performances to private events, school partnerships, and corporate rentals.
What was once a money pit is now on track to become a steady source of revenue—and a cornerstone of community connection.
Immediately after that meeting, I filled Lisa in on my relationship with Marley. I wasn’t going to pretend the timing was perfect, but I also wasn’t going to let it compromise the integrity of the decision.
Yes, we were already together when I pitched the theater renovation. And yes, I later recommended Marley for Artistic Director. But not because of us. Because of her.
She had the vision. The experience. The passion to turn that place into something real. She was already doing the work before I ever gave it a title. I didn’t make the choice because she was mine. I made it because she was right for the job, and I wanted to do it the right way from the start.
After catching Marley and me in my office, Lisa wasn’t the least bit surprised. In fact, she seemed pleased I finally admitted it. She also agreed that Marley was the best person for The Cobalt’s director position.
With the board and the new theater plans behind me, I didn’t waste time.
That night, with Marley curled up in my arms and in my bed, I asked if she wanted to move in.
It was absolutely too soon, sure. Probably something most people would judge.
But it felt right. More right than anything else I’d done.
When you’ve spent your life in shades of gray, and suddenly everything turns to color, you don’t hold back.
You dive in.
Marley knows that better than anyone. She spent years living in the in-between. Hoping her mom would stay clean, stay present, stay anything. But that kind of love keeps you waiting in the gray.
Until eventually, she stopped waiting.
Her mom still checks in sometimes. Still says all the right things—sometimes even means them. Whether she’s clean or not these days, I don’t always know.
But Marley doesn’t let that define her anymore. She stopped waiting for her mother to become someone different and started building the kind of life she deserved without her.
And that’s the woman I hopefully get to marry.
With Marley set to arrive any minute, I enter the auditorium.
The entire space is filled with candles, their soft glow flickering against the walls.
The candlelight spills across the worn stage floor, bouncing off the freshly painted walls and rows of brand-new deep red velvet seats.
A complete fire hazard, but one that can be extinguished the second I give the word.
Everywhere I look, shadows dance alongside flames.
Light and dark, woven together. The perfect reflection of us.
Her brightness and my quiet. Sunshine and storm.
Hope and hesitation. Opposites tangled in a way neither of us expected, proving the strongest connections are sometimes the ones that make the least sense on paper, but the most in practice.
Maybe that’s how love works. It’s not about perfection or having all the answers. It’s about finding someone whose shadows don’t scare you, and someone whose light doesn’t dim yours, but softens it in all the right places.
The double doors swing wide open, as Marley steps into the theater, letting a burst of sunlight spill across the floor before the doors shut behind her again.
There’s a beat of silence until a single performer begins to play the cello.
The opening chords drift out across the candlelit space, the same melody that played during her cousin’s wedding, the very first time I stood beside her.
I don’t even know if she noticed the song back then.
But I did, because it’s the very moment something cracked open in me.
When she sees the rows of flickering candles, the solo cellist on stage, me standing in a suit on my day off, she seems to realize something suspicious is going on.
“Theo?”
I cross the space between us, reaching for her hand. “Hi, love.”
I finally get a good look at her in the candlelight. She’s wearing a soft green dress, her hair pulled into that familiar bun, with a few wisps framing her face like they always do when she’s had a busy day.
She slides her fingers through mine and squeezes. “What’s going on here?”
“Come take a look.” I press my lips to her knuckles before guiding her forward.
We walk slowly toward the stage, her head on a swivel.
She’s practically buzzing, eyes wide as she takes in the nearly finished theater.
She’s seen the blueprints, toured it countless times through the fast-tracked renovation, chosen the paint colors herself.
But the candles, the music, the quiet hum of something that’s finished—this part she didn’t see coming.
The upper balcony is still sealed off. The lobby’s not quite done.
But the lights are up, the seats are in, and the heart of the place is finally beating again.
“Theo,” she breathes, not able to stop looking around at how her vision for the theater has officially begun to come together. “When did they finish?”
“The carpets, seating, and lights were just installed this week. There’s still a lot more to do, but I wanted to show you this first.”
A few beats pass before her head tilts toward the music, recognition sparking in her eyes as she smiles. “It’s the song from the first time we met.”
“You remember?”
“I was standing next to this really hot guy who I thought hated my guts. Pretty unforgettable.”
“Sounds like that guy’s kind of a dick.”
She grins. “Eh, he has his moments, just like everyone else. He also turned out to be the one thing I never saw coming, and exactly what I needed.”
My hands find their way to her, tangling in her hair, tilting her face up to mine.
“I love you so damn much, Marley.”
She smiles. “I love you too.”
It’s the perfect moment to pull the trigger. I drop to one knee, watching in delight as her face goes through the full range of emotions. From happy, to shocked, to crying tears of joy.