Epilogue #2
Finally, he said, “You already answered the only question I had, son.”
I had not asked what he meant.
I knew.
He had given me his blessing.
Now Daniel stood near the balcony doors with my father, both of them holding glasses of scotch and talking like men who had somehow become friends through fear, grief, and shared devotion to the same blonde menace.
My mother stood beside Bliss with one arm linked through hers, laughing at something Charm said.
Aura and Easton were near the windows, pretending they were not standing close enough to share oxygen.
Briggs was terrorizing the appetizer table.
Rider looked like he regretted every choice that led him to loving this group of people.
Ryan watched me from across the room and lifted his brows slightly.
He knew.
Ryan always knew.
So did Charm.
So did Daniel.
So did my parents.
Aura had the marble.
Not because she had made it.
That was mine.
I had gone to the art department myself once I was strong enough to make it across campus without Bliss threatening to sedate me emotionally.
Aura had helped me get the name of the right professor, and she had kept Bliss distracted the first afternoon I disappeared, but I had done the work.
I had sat in a studio that smelled like paint, clay, kiln heat, and college panic while a senior art student walked me through the process with the patience of someone who had clearly been warned by Aura Clarke not to fuck it up.
Black glass.
Neon pink.
Bright yellow.
CM55.
My number, held inside something she could add to her Nevers. Something that belonged to me but honored her. Something permanent enough to sit in the sculpture she had built from grief and memory and all the moments her mom should have been here for.
It had taken me three hours, one mildly concerning pain flare, and a lecture from Bliss later about not overdoing it when she found me asleep on the couch with paint under my thumbnail.
Worth it.
Aura had kept the marble hidden for me until tonight. If I kept it in the apartment, Bliss would have found it in under twenty-four hours. She was a marble menace and could sniff that shit out like emotional contraband with glitter.
Ryan appeared beside me. “You good?”
“No.”
He nodded. “Solid.”
“I could still back out.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“True.”
Charm drifted over next, champagne glass in hand, eyes already shiny. “Is it time?”
“You’re crying already.”
“I am emotionally prepared.”
“That seems inaccurate.”
“I helped pick the ring, Cade. I am invested in the sparkle journey.”
Ryan muttered, “She threatened a jeweler.”
Charm lifted one finger. “I corrected a jeweler.”
“You told him his inventory lacked romantic literacy.”
“It did.”
I looked toward Bliss again. She was laughing now, head tilted back, one hand pressed lightly to my mother’s arm. My mother looked at her like she had hung the moon. My father watched them from across the room with a softened expression he probably thought no one noticed.
I noticed.
Because I remembered what his face used to look like when he watched rooms.
Cold. Measuring. Somewhere else.
Now he looked like a man who had spent months learning that love did not weaken a family. It built one.
Bliss had done that.
She had taken people who loved in silence and made them loud about it.
I set my glass down.
Ryan’s expression shifted. “Need help?”
I gave him a flat look.
He raised both hands. “You’re training every day. I know. You’re a beast. Don’t emotionally body-check me.”
“Too late.”
Charm grinned. “I’ll get Aura.”
“No,” I said. “I will.”
I crossed the room without pain stealing my breath, which still felt like a victory even after months of victories. My body moved differently now, more aware of itself, maybe, but strong. Healing. Mine again.
Bliss caught sight of me coming and immediately narrowed her eyes because suspicion was apparently her love language.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Walking.”
“You’re doing that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you look organized and dangerous.”
My father coughed into his glass.
Daniel looked down.
Ryan suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
Bliss’s eyes narrowed more. “Why is everyone weird?”
“Everyone is always weird,” Briggs said around a mouthful of bread. “This room is a clinical study.”
Aura stepped close enough to press something into my palm without Bliss seeing.
The marble was cool and smooth against my skin, and for one second, the weight of it nearly brought me back to that hospital chapel, to Bliss crying over Nevers she could not survive collecting, to the way grief had shaped her life and somehow still failed to steal her light.
I closed my fingers around it.
Bliss saw the movement immediately. “What is that?”
“Secret business.”
“No.”
“Pip.”
“No, I know that voice. That is the same voice you used before the glass kiss, before the kitchen incident, and before you told me you fell in love with me in front of an entire breakfast audience.”
“Strong greatest-hits list.”
“Cade.”
I stepped closer and took her hand.
The room shifted behind her. Not dramatically, not enough for her to turn, but enough that I felt everyone go quiet at the same time.
Bliss felt it too.
Her gaze flicked over my shoulder, then back to my face, and the teasing drained from her expression.
“Cross Check,” she whispered.
I looked down at her.
My beautiful, furious, impossible girl.
My Pip.
Several months ago, I had lain on concrete and thought I might die, pissed that I was late to meet her.
Now she was standing in front of me in a penthouse my parents had bought because none of us knew how to let go after almost losing each other, with both our families around us, our friends crammed into every corner, and the entire room smelling like Italian food, champagne, spring air, and the kind of happiness that still scared the hell out of me if I looked at it too directly.
I could have waited.
Could have taken her somewhere private. Somewhere romantic. Somewhere with candles and a view and no audience full of Bennetts, Mercers, hockey players, best friends, and one private chef pretending not to watch from the kitchen.
But that wasn’t us.
We had never been clean timing.
We were kitchen confessions before coffee. Glass kisses in front of twenty thousand people. Love spoken like a hit to the chest. Survival carved out of blood and noise and her hand in mine.
I took her hand and placed the marble in her palm.
Her fingers curled around it automatically before she looked down.
The second she saw it, her breath stopped.
The room went silent behind her.
Bliss stared at the marble, the black glass, the neon pink and yellow sparks, the hand-painted CM55 in the center. Her eyes filled so fast it destroyed me.
“Cade,” she whispered.
“This might be a hard Never for you, Pip,” I said, my voice rougher than I wanted it to be, “but I need you to understand what it represents.”
Her lips trembled.
“Don’t,” she said immediately, which meant absolutely do.
“You probably bought fifty new Nevers for all the shit we’ve been through the last few months.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb.
“I’ll never steal your thunder when it comes to Nevers,” I said. “That’s yours. Your mom represented that word long before I ever earned the right to stand anywhere near it. But I do want this one.”
Her face crumpled. “You’re being emotionally peculiar in front of guests.”
“I know.”
“It’s rude.”
“Offensive, honestly.”
A broken laugh came out of her, half sob, half Bliss trying desperately to survive me with sarcasm.
Good.
I needed her laughing for this. I needed her breathing. I needed her here.
“This Never is for you, Pip,” I said.
She shook her head once, tears falling faster now. “Cade.”
“For the Never you are going to wish your mom was here for.”
The sound she made went through me so sharply I almost forgot the rest.
Her dad made one rough noise behind us, but he did not interrupt.
I kept my eyes on Bliss because if I looked at Daniel Bennett right now, I might not make it through the next part without breaking in a way my pride could not afford in front of Briggs.
I closed her fingers gently around the marble, both of my hands covering hers.
“And with your dad’s blessing,” I said, my voice breaking just enough to piss me off, “and your mom’s memory standing right here with us, I’m asking you to be all fifty-five reasons I’ll always love you more than hockey.”
The entire room disappeared.
Bliss stared up at me like she had forgotten how the world worked.
I swallowed hard.
“Pip, will you let me make you a Mercer and finally make this official before I regret not planning a more reasonable proposal?”
Silence.
Then Bliss burst into tears.
Not graceful tears. Not soft, romantic movie tears. Full Bliss Bennett devastation, one hand clutching the marble to her chest while the other slapped lightly against me before immediately hovering in panic because apparently even in an engagement meltdown, she remembered I had scars.
“You cannot do this after almost dying,” she sobbed. “That is illegal.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“You are so annoying.”
“Yes?”
“You got stabbed and decided, hmm, perfect time to emotionally ruin her in front of both our families?”
“Correct.”
“Cade.”
“Pip.”
She shook her head, crying harder. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” Her voice broke completely. “I love you so much I can’t breathe.”
“Careful,” I said. “Breathing is apparently important. Recently learned that.”
She laughed through the tears, then covered her mouth because the laugh turned into a sob.