Epilogue #2
The Christmas brunch continues around us, Jenna organizing the gift exchange, Marcus quietly ensuring everything runs smoothly, Brynn and Callum stealing not-so-subtle glances at each other by the refreshment table. But for a moment, despite the crowd, it feels like just the two of us exist.
"I have something for you," Atticus says, his voice low and private. "Not your official Christmas gift, that's for later. But something I wanted to give you here, with everyone around us."
Curiosity piqued, I watch as he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and extracts a small box, not velvet like the ring box had been, but worn leather that speaks of age and history.
"This belonged to my grandmother," he explains, opening the box to reveal a delicate gold locket. "She gave it to me before she died, told me to save it for 'the woman who sees past the Morgan name to the heart underneath.' I've been carrying it for fifteen years, waiting for the right moment."
Emotion tightens my throat as he gently removes the antique piece from its cushioned nest. "May I?"
I nod, turning so he can fasten it around my neck. The weight of it settles against my skin, light but significant, like the history it carries.
"It opens," he murmurs, his fingers warm against my collarbone as he shows me the tiny catch.
Inside, I find a miniature photograph I recognize from his office in New York, the two of us at that business conference three years ago, laughing over coffee during that first all-night conversation that had changed everything. On the opposite side, elegant script reads Where it all began.
"You had this prepared," I realize, touched beyond words. "Before you even proposed."
"I told you," he says softly, "some decisions are easier than others. Loving you has always been the easiest choice I've ever made, even when I was too stubborn to acknowledge it."
"Atticus," I breathe, blinking back tears that threaten to ruin my carefully applied holiday makeup. "I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll still marry me in April," he suggests, his smile warming his entire face. "Say you'll build that ridiculously large house on the ridge with me. Say you'll navigate board meetings and small-town politics and my mother's excessive involvement in our wedding planning."
"Yes to all of it," I promise, rising on tiptoes to press my lips to his. "Though I reserve the right to reconsider if your mother suggests ice sculptures of our initials."
His laugh vibrates against my lips. "Fair enough."
Someone, Brynn, most likely, calls out "Mistletoe!" and I glance up to find that yes, indeed, we're standing beneath one of the several sprigs Jenna insisted on hanging throughout the HQ. Atticus follows my gaze, his smile turning mischievous.
"Well," he says, his voice dropping to that register that never fails to send shivers down my spine, "we can't disappoint our audience."
This kiss is different from our private moments, appropriate for the setting yet still carrying the heat and promise that never seems to dim between us. When we part, applause and good-natured whistles erupt around us.
"Save something for the honeymoon!" Levi calls out, earning an elbow from Mindy and laughter from the crowd.
"Speaking of which," Atticus murmurs against my ear as the attention shifts away from us, "I have plans for you later that definitely aren't suitable for public consumption."
"Is that so, Mr. Morgan?" I keep my voice innocent even as heat blooms low in my belly. "Care to elaborate?"
"Let's just say," he replies, his hand finding the small of my back again, "this particular Christmas gift requires absolute privacy and possibly soundproofing."
"Atticus!" I swat his arm, laughing despite the blush I can feel heating my cheeks. "Behave. We have guests."
"I'm always perfectly behaved in public," he reminds me, the picture of corporate composure despite the Santa hat and the heat in his eyes. "In private, however..."
The promise in his voice sends anticipation curling through me. Three weeks of increasingly passionate encounters, and still, my body responds to his slightest suggestion like we've only just discovered each other.
"Later," I promise, letting my hand rest briefly on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm. "We have all afternoon once the brunch wraps up."
"I'm holding you to that, Parker."
"I'm counting on it, Morgan."
Our private moment is interrupted as Vivienne approaches, champagne flute in hand.
"Darling, the Sullivan property is inspired," she says, air-kissing both our cheeks.
"Those views are unparalleled. Though the interior will need a complete overhaul, I've already spoken with my designer about availability in February. "
I exchange a glance with Atticus, suppressing a smile. "Thank you, Vivienne, but we've actually already engaged a local architect. Spencer's cousin Eliza specializes in sustainable mountain renovations."
"How... resourceful," she manages, recovering quickly. "Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate my designer's input on the finer points."
"I'm sure they'll collaborate beautifully," I agree diplomatically.
"Like their clients," she observes with surprising perception. "Different worlds, complementary strengths. It's what makes successful partnerships, in business and in life."
Her insight is unexpectedly profound from the woman I'd once dismissed as merely a corporate socialite, touches something deep within me.
"Thank you, Mother," Atticus says, genuine appreciation in his voice. "For everything."
She waves a dismissive hand, though I catch the emotion that briefly crosses her face. "Just be happy, darling. Both of you." With that, she glides away to charm Levi's sister Tessa, who looks simultaneously intimidated and intrigued by Vivienne's attention.
"She's right, you know," I say quietly, watching her go. "About different worlds making stronger partnerships."
"She has her moments of wisdom," Atticus admits. "Usually when you least expect them."
"Like mother, like son," I tease, earning a raised eyebrow.
"I'm consistently wise, thank you very much."
"And modest too." I laugh, leaning into his side as we survey the gathering, our friends, our colleagues, our family both biological and chosen. "Did you ever imagine this? Three weeks ago, when you first arrived?"
He considers the question seriously. "No," he finally admits. "I had a five-year plan, a ten-year plan, and a clear path to the Blackwood executive board. None of it included falling in love with my best friend, buying property in a mountain town, or wearing a Santa hat in public."
"Regrets?" I ask, suddenly needing the reassurance despite everything.
His answer comes without hesitation. "Not a single one." He presses a kiss to my temple, his voice low and sincere. "The best business decisions are often the ones you never saw coming, the opportunities that appear unexpectedly and change everything for the better."
"Very profound, Mr. CEO," I murmur, touched by his sincerity.
"I have my moments," he returns with a smile. "Usually when inspired by the right muse."
As the brunch continues around us, I find myself taking mental snapshots of the moment, Atticus with his Santa hat and easy smile, Jenna orchestrating the gift exchange with military precision, Marcus accepting a plate of cookies from Mindy's twins with grave courtesy, my father deep in conversation with Spencer about the spring renovation plans.
This unlikely gathering, this unexpected joy, this perfect Christmas morning that three weeks ago I couldn't have imagined.
Atticus
Hours later, when the brunch has concluded and the last guests have departed with leftover cookies and warm goodbyes, I find Sloane in my office. She stands at the window, watching the snowfall over Hope Peak, the locket gleaming at her throat in the late afternoon light.
"Penny for your thoughts," I say, closing the door quietly behind me.
She turns, her smile warming me more effectively than the fireplace burning cheerfully in the corner. "Just thinking about Christmas miracles."
"Find any?" I ask, crossing to join her at the window.
"A few." She leans into me as my arm circles her waist. "A ruthless CEO with a hidden heart of gold. A best friendship that turned into forever. A corporate expansion that somehow made a town stronger instead of changing its character."
"Quite the holiday haul," I observe, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I'd say so." She turns in my arms to face me fully. "Thank you for the locket. It means more than I can say, knowing you've been carrying it all this time, waiting."
"I didn't know I was waiting for you specifically," I admit, "but some part of me must have. Nothing else explains why I kept it close all these years."
Her hand comes up to trace my jaw, a touch so gentle it nearly undoes me. "And thank you for today. For all of it, the house, the announcement, staying in Hope Peak. I know it's a major adjustment to your plans."
"Not an adjustment," I correct her. "An improvement. The best deals are the ones where both parties gain something more valuable than what they give up."
"Always the businessman," she teases, though her eyes are soft with understanding.
"Always your businessman," I counter, drawing her closer. "Now and for all the Christmases to come."
"I like the sound of that." She rises on tiptoes, bringing our faces level. "Take me home, Atticus. I believe you mentioned something about Christmas gifts requiring privacy?"
Heat pools low in my stomach at the reminder. "Your wish is my command."
The drive to what is now our temporary home, a luxury rental that will serve until the Ridgeline property renovations are complete, is filled with anticipation. Sloane's hand rests on my thigh, an innocent touch that grows increasingly distracting as we near our destination.