Epilogue #2
"I love you, Candi. I love your kind heart and your terrible Christmas movie choices and the way you sometimes check your phone but then put it down to be present with me.
I love how you cry reading wish lists from families who need help.
I love how you've transformed from someone who measured worth in followers to someone who measures it in lives changed and moments lived fully.
" He lifted the ring. "I love the life we've built together.
The home we share. The work we do. The quiet mornings and the chaotic coordination and everything in between.
" His voice roughened. "Marry me. Be my partner in everything.
Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. "
"Yes," I choked out. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes."
He slid the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit, because Bart Kane never did anything halfway. His fingers lingered on mine, thumb brushing my knuckles, and heat flared through me despite the audience.
"Mine," he said, low enough only I could hear.
"Yours," I whispered back.
Then, through my tears, I started giggling. "Oh my God, I'm going to be Candi Kane."
Bart started laughing too, that deep rumble I loved. "I didn't even think about that."
"It's perfect. It's too perfect. Somehow it fits."
"It really does." He was grinning as he kissed me.
The restaurant erupted—applause, cheers, people standing. When we finally broke apart, I was crying and laughing at the same time, holding my hand up to watch the diamond catch firelight.
"Let me see." I turned my hand, mesmerized. "Bart, this is—when did you even—"
He guided me back to my chair, pulling his close so we were pressed together, his arm around my shoulders. "I've been planning since September. Had the ring made in October. Asked your dad for his blessing over Thanksgiving—"
"You asked my dad?"
"Of course I asked your dad. I'm traditional about some things."
"What did he say?"
Bart grinned. "That it was about time, and that he'd never seen you this happy."
Fresh tears welled up. "I am happy. So incredibly happy."
"Good." He kissed my temple. "That's all I want. Your happiness. Always."
Gerald Thompson called out from across the restaurant: "About damn time, Kane!"
Laurel swatted his arm but was grinning. "We've been waiting all year for this!"
"You all knew?" I looked around at the familiar faces—our friends, our community, all smiling and raising glasses in our direction.
"Small town," Bart murmured against my ear. "Can't keep secrets."
"Except you kept this one."
"I'm very motivated when it counts."
We settled back into our seats, Bart keeping his chair close, his arm never leaving my waist. "I can't stop staring at it," I said, turning my hand to watch it sparkle in the candlelight.
"Good. That was the goal." His lips brushed my temple. "I wanted you to have something as beautiful as you are."
"Sap."
"Your sap now."
Dinner arrived—filet mignon that I barely tasted because I was too busy staring at my ring and at Bart and trying to process that this was real. We were getting married. I was going to be Candi Kane.
Actually, that sounded amazing.
After dinner, we stepped outside into the softly falling snow. Main Street was quiet now. The tree sparkled in the town square, lights reflecting off fresh powder.
Bart pulled me close, both of us watching snow fall beneath the streetlights.
"A year ago tonight," I said, "we were standing in that church, Drew making a scene, your whole identity getting exposed."
"I remember thinking my life was over."
"And now?"
"Now I'm thinking my life is just beginning." He turned me to face him. "Really beginning. With you."
I reached up to cup his face, fingers trailing through his silver hair. "I love you so much, Bart Kane. Thank you for seeing me. The real me. For helping me find myself again."
"Thank you for crashing into my life and refusing to leave."
"Technically you forced me to stay. The whole 'help with my charity or I'll sue you' thing."
"Best negotiating I've ever done."
A year ago I'd been desperate, lost, always worrying about what other people thought of me and forgetting who I was.
Now I was engaged to the love of my life in a town that felt like home, doing work that changed lives, surrounded by people who knew and loved the real me.
I wasn't performing anymore. Wasn't curating content or chasing viral moments or obsessively tuning in.
I was just living. Really, truly living.
And it was better than any sponsored post or collaboration deal or carefully crafted influencer moment could ever be.
"Merry Christmas, Candi Kane," Bart murmured against my lips.
I grinned. "I like the sound of that. Candi Kane. Has a nice ring to it."
"Terrible pun."
"You love my terrible puns."
"I love everything about you."
We stood there wrapped together while snow fell and Christmas lights twinkled and Hope Peak settled into peaceful Christmas Eve quiet.
My phone buzzed in my clutch—probably notifications about this year's Christmas Wishes anniversary post, or messages from friends, or who knew what else.
I ignored it completely.
This moment—this genuine, unrehearsed, unfiltered moment—was all I needed.
Merry Christmas to us, I thought, and knew that every Christmas from now on would be just as magical.
Not because of the snow or the lights or the picture-perfect setting.
But because I'd be spending them with him.