Epilogue
CLARITY
1 ⒈／⒉ Years Later
Stepping back on the ground of New York City, my forever home, I'm officially one year closer to becoming a pediatrician.
Unknowingly biting my lip and fidgeting my hands with the ends of my hair, I attempt to navigate the airport in search of my heart. I play nervously with my nails, which are now a decent length. I’m grateful I’ve finally let them grow.
My suitcase rolls behind me. I only brought a few clothes and essentials back for summer break; the other dorm stuff I left in public storage back in Los Angeles.
There are hundreds, even thousands, of people walking in countless directions around me. My eyes scan every tall guy with dark hair and a crooked smile.
I would call him, but my phone died. So now the search begins—
Only, I don't need to search because several feet away, I see Charles, my bodyguard, whom Olias says still isn't my bodyguard, holding up a sign with my name on it, standing beside Olia's car.
And beside him, not yet noticing me, stands Olias.
I smile giddily at my Fiancé. He's wearing all-black attire, a dress shirt buttoned one button too low and showing one of his new chest tattoos. One hand is in his pants pocket. He looks amazing, as always. I love his business-oriented style. It's been four months since we last saw each other due to how busy we both are, but we haven't missed a day on the phone. Slowly but surely, we’re getting the hang of this long-term relationship thing.
He looks almost nervous, pacing shortly, his fingers fidgeting with his rings as he scans everyone who walks past him.
Then his eyes meet mine.
He completely stops moving, his feet freezing on the concrete below them, and I grin from ear to ear, beginning my jog to him.
He puts a hand through his hair, and his lips part, arms extending towards me.
I bite my lip and squeal, letting go of my suitcase to collide completely into Olias body, jumping and wrapping my legs around his waist like the floor is made of fire.
He groans a little, taking a step back to catch his balance before squeezing me tightly against him.
"Hey, baby," His low voice cracks against my ear, his nose touching my skin.
I feel myself melt into him just like whenever I'm in his arms. The stability, safety, and softness I feel with him never fall short.
"Hi, my Sunshine!" I respond against his throat, running my fingers through his hair.
I lower my feet to the ground, and Olias leans up from my neck only to lean back in to kiss me hard. His hands stay in my waist, wrapped tightly around me like I might disappear at any moment. I hold his cheeks, opening my mouth to deepen our kiss, the sweet taste of Starbucks on his tongue. To think he didn't like coffee when he first met. Pfft .
We part our lips, and I look at Olias, his eyes glossy and nose and cheeks red.
I soften my face at the sight of his—my emotional baby.
He sniffles and holds my face, stroking his thumb against my cheekbone. "I missed you like fucking crazy, Clare."
I lean to peck his lips again, wiping a thumb under his eyes to catch his tears. "Don't cry, sunshine. I missed you too." I already feel myself wanting to cry solely because he's crying, and we don't need a mess like that here in the middle of the airport.
He only smiles, his dimple showing. I'm going to frame that dimple and hang it on our freaking wall.
"Come on," he says, locking my hand in his and walking towards the car. Charles nods at me, and I grin, waving at him.
"I missed ya' Charles!"
He chuckles, glancing at Olias before saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Grey."
I tilt my head. "We're not married just yet." However, I love the sound of Olias' last name as mine. "We're waiting till I graduate."
Olias opens the door for me, and I climb into the back seat with him, Charles driving.
Charles looks at us in the mirror, "To me, you've been a married couple since I met you both."
Grabbing Olias hand, I lean against his shoulder.
The day I get to call him my husband is the day I've somehow gotten everything I've ever wanted.
I look out the window of the car, watching the buildings of NYC blur past—the filled streets of Times Square and large screens on the buildings. It's always been a beautiful place to live, and I'm grateful I get to live it here with the person I want to spend the rest of my life beside.
But I notice the route to our house is different. I turn to Olias, who is already watching me.
"Where are we going?" I question.
He runs the back of my hand with his thumb. "A building."
I squint my eyes at his broad answer. "That tells me a lot."
He smirks. Whispers, "Be patient, my sweet girl."
"You and your surprises," I snicker.
But I do just that. Be patient because I feel my life will involve many more surprises dealing with Olias.
Getting used to being spoiled after years of being abandoned and mistreated, I still have to get used to it. Get used to being treated properly.
It takes only several minutes before the car stops, and I lift off his shoulder, looking around our surroundings to finally realize where we are.
The place we first met.
However, the building we once stood on nearly two years ago is no longer there.
Olias steps out of the car and wraps around to open my door, extending a hand to let me out.
My eyes stay glued on the new building instead of the old in disbelief.
A shorter building stands in its place, with brownstones with long windows. Through the windows, at least two floors are filled with bookshelves, books filling them. A sign stretches across the front of the building in a fancy font.
I blink. It reads Clarity.
The bookstore has my name on it.
I turn to Olias, speechless and shocked. "It says my name ."
He smiles knowingly, nods, and walks towards the door with a wooden closed sign at the front.
He removes his keys and unlocks the door, turning around to me. "Why are you standing over there? Don't you want to see inside your bookstore?"
I laugh breathlessly, bending over to breathe since I forgot to these past few seconds. Then, I skitter my way toward Olias, walking inside the bookstore.
"What in the world, Olias? How..." My jaw is practically on the floor as I walk to the center of the store, spinning. I take in the fresh scent of books in this two-story bookstore. It's not too large or small and cramped; it's perfect—something I'd dream about.
I look at Olias, who's watching me, arms folded, with an admirable gaze in his eyes. "You told me once how you want a bookstore wedding. It was the one time you've ever seemed to really wish and hope for something. You had put everything and everyone over yourself, and I wanted to give you this one thing. A few days after that, I bought the rights to this property and got it built when you were in college. It took a few months but still needs a little shaping up. Make sure you see it before saying it's done, just in case you want to make any chang—"
I pull his head down, crashing my lips against his. My body leans into his chest, and it only takes a second for him to realize that I'm kissing him, his breath getting heavier, his heart mirroring the rapid pace of mine.
He holds the back of my head, pulling away and pressing his forehead to mine. Lips pink, his breath fanning onto my top lip.
"It's perfect," I tell him. A brief laugh leaves me. "Jesus, it's more than perfect . Thank you. ”