Epilogue
Cade
One month later
We’re sitting on the large sectional in the living room of our home; we finally moved into the house together two weeks ago.
Rowan’s practically in my lap, legs draped over mine, his back against my chest, my arms wrapped loosely around his waist. When we’re alone like this, we’re almost always attached at the hip.
I’ve been patient, letting him have all the time he needed before we told the world, but today feels like the right moment. Our fingers hover together over the trackpad on my laptop.
The email is already written… formal, professional, and carefully worded.
It explains our relationship clearly, states that we are not blood-related, and reminds everyone that any form of harassment, gossip, or discriminatory behaviour will not be tolerated.
Dad and I spent a long evening going over the wording.
We both agreed this was the cleanest, most respectful way to handle it internally before the rumour mill inevitably started spinning.
Rowan’s hand rests on top of mine. We take a breath together… and click “Send.” The confirmation pops up on screen. For a second, neither of us moves.
Then I lean back against the cushions, pulling Rowan with me so he’s nestled even closer. We both let out a long, simultaneous sigh of relief.
Rowan tilts his head and kisses me softly, slow and sweet, his lips lingering against mine like a quiet promise. I hum contentedly into the kiss, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his neck.
When we part, I murmur against his mouth, “Well… no going back now, baby.”
Rowan lets out a small, breathless laugh and rests his forehead against mine. “Yup. That’s it.”
We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together on the couch, the late afternoon light spilling through the tall windows of our home, the weight of the email now out in the world. No more hiding, no more careful lies… just us.
…
Later that evening, we’re sprawled in the living room with the lights dimmed low.
Rowan’s tucked against my side, legs tangled with mine, while I hold a tub of salted caramel ice cream between us.
We’re sharing one spoon like a pair of ridiculous teenagers.
Every few seconds one of us dips the spoon in, takes a bite, and then offers the next one to the other.
It’s slow and lazy, full of soft hums and little smiles.
My laptop is balanced on the arm of the couch, and we’re scrolling through the flood of replies to the company-wide email we sent earlier. Thousands of employees. We don’t know half these people, but the responses keep coming in.
Rowan licks a bit of caramel off the spoon and reads the next one aloud in a soft voice. “‘Congratulations on your relationship. Wishing you both all the best.’ That one’s from accounting on the fourth floor.”
I smile and scoop another bite, holding it to his lips. He takes it, eyes fluttering closed for a second in pure contentment.
“Nice and polite,” I murmur. “Even if they’re secretly thinking ‘what the hell?’”
Rowan laughs around the spoon, then nudges me with his elbow. “Your turn.”
I scroll down and read the next email. “ ‘Happy for you both. The company has always been progressive, glad to see it in action.’ Signed by someone in logistics.”
Rowan hums happily and rests his head on my shoulder, one arm draped across my stomach. “That one felt genuine.”
We keep going like that… taking turns reading the messages, sharing the ice cream, occasionally feeding each other a spoonful when the other is too busy reading.
Some emails are warm and sincere. Some are clearly polite corporate-speak.
A few are borderline sucking up, the kind that make us both snort with laughter. But even those feel… nice.
Rowan licks a stray drop of caramel from the corner of my mouth, then kisses the same spot gently. “I can’t believe we did it,” he whispers against my skin. “We told everyone.”
I turn my head and catch his lips in a slow, sweet kiss that tastes like salted caramel and relief. When we pull apart, I rest my forehead against his.
“Yeah,” I murmur, voice low and warm. “We did.”
He smiles, soft and a little shy, and steals another spoonful of ice cream before offering it back to me. I take it, then wrap my arm tighter around him, pulling him even closer.
We keep scrolling, keep sharing the spoon, keep trading quiet little kisses between emails.
Thousands of employees. Hundreds of messages.
But right now, the only thing that matters is this…
the two of us tangled together on the couch, eating ice cream straight from the tub, finally out in the open and perfectly content.
The End