Epilogue
Archie
Middleton-on-Sea smells like sunscreen, fish and chips, and summertime.
For the second year in a row, our group has taken over half the beach with our mismatched towels and snack bags that have probably fed half the local seagull population by now.
It’s warm but not scorching—rare for England. The sun is shining bright overhead, turning every colour more vibrant than the next and making the sea glitter.
Kat is stretched out next to me, book in hand, legs crossed at the ankles. Her skin is golden from our balcony tanning sessions, and I can’t take my eyes off her. She has this relaxed, totally focused expression when she reads that makes me want to kiss her. Constantly. So I do.
“Page 128,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her bare shoulder.
With a smile, she slides a bookmark between the pages and turns to me. I lean over her and kiss her delicious lips. They taste like strawberry ice cream and something so uniquely Kat. When she moved into my flat a few months ago, she brought this addictive smell with her.
A loud laugh booms over the sand, and I glance down to the water’s edge.
Finn is chasing a red football down the shoreline, an eight-year-old boy hot on his heels, shrieking with laughter.
That kid has the same boisterous laugh as his stepdad, and you’d swear they were related.
Yes, my best friend’s dream finally came true—or at least it’s in very good shape.
He’s got the wife and the kid, even though it’s only been a year and a half since we had that conversation in the changing rooms. Sam might not be his biological son, but Finn loves him just as much as if he were blood.
They even kind of look alike, with their dark hair and clear blue eyes.
Well, the kid doesn’t have a buzz cut. Thank goodness for that.
“Ha! You couldn’t catch me if you tried!” Sam says, scrambling away from Finn.
Finn just snorts. “I could catch you in my sleep.”
His wife, Everly, shakes her head from her beach towel, flipping a page in her magazine, but I can see the faintest smile on her lips.
Just then, Wade walks by, Teddy balanced on his hip. Roxy is chasing after them with sunscreen in one hand and a determined look in her eyes.
“No!” the two-year-old squeals. “No cream! Cream bad!”
“Teddy,” Roxy sighs. “If I have to wrestle you like a greased otter in public, so help me—”
Nearby, Cameron slumps into the sand beside Fallon, letting out a groan so long it might have cracked open the earth. He just came back from a date with a girl at a café.
“What happened?” Millie asks, stopping the process of painting her nails in bright yellow. “She seemed normal enough.”
Kat nods. “Yeah, we vetted her.”
Fallon starts knitting her sweater with just a little more vigor, pretending to be consumed by the task, but I can tell she’s as interested in hearing the story as the rest of us. Or most of us, at least. Finn is still chasing after his kid, and Wade and Roxy are now wrestling Teddy.
“She brought her dad on the date. On purpose. Said it was to ‘see how I’d react under pressure.’”
“Wow. That’s unhinged,” I say, glad to be far from the dating world. “You should get a sticker or something for having survived that.”
“I don’t know, man,” he says, running a fistful of sand through his hands. “Maybe I should just quit altogether.”
“Statistically speaking,” Fallon begins, not looking up, and we all groan. “Sixty percent of people lie on dating apps anyway. So, it might not be how you want to start a relationship.”
His eyes flit to her, then settle on the sand beneath him. “She’s right.”
“Ah, don’t be like that, lad,” I say. “If Grumpy Cal found his match, there’s a girl out there for you.”
Callum chucks a volleyball at me in retribution, but I catch it with ease. Thankfully, I’ve fully recovered from that nasty accident last year. It took me a solid four months, but my reflexes and form are as sharp as ever.
Teddy squeals again as Wade finally pins him with the precision of a seasoned striker, and Roxy swoops in with the sunscreen. I widen my eyes slightly, glad not to have to be a toddler wrangler myself.
Kat turns to me, lowering her book. Her sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose, and her eyes meet mine. Warm. Tired. Mischievous. My heart does a little leap. Yeah, I think I made the right choice.
“Stop staring,” she whispers.
“Can’t,” I murmur, sliding my hand across her back. “You’re too fit.”
We stay there the rest of the day, laughing, talking about our summer plans—Kat and I are going to Uganda for a third time—and decompressing about the season ahead.
The sun sinks low on the horizon as someone passes around ice lollies, Millie snaps some photos, and Teddy tries to bury Wade in sand with his toy shovel. Finn is arguing with Sam over whether they both cheated, and Fallon is stating a statistic about seagulls that no one asked for.
I glance at my friends, then at the love of my life, and a long sigh drains from my lungs. I’m the luckiest bloke on the planet. And hopefully, the feeling will only be tripled come nightfall.
I’d say I’m a pretty confident man. I’ve saved impossible goals and stared down world-class strikers without flinching. But tonight?
Tonight, my confidence is hanging by a thread.
Because even if Kat and I are perfect for each other—evidenced by the fact that this last year and a half has been the best stretch of my life—there’s still that little voice in the back of my mind whispering, What if she says no?
I dressed in a navy suit but ended up ditching the tie, not wanting to look like I was headed to a board meeting.
This needs to feel like me. Like us. I’ve set up our deck with candles, fairy lights, and the world’s most questionable playlist softly playing in the background—Millie helped me and insisted on “romantic ambience.” The late summer evening smells like lavender and grilled chicken.
Kat’s inside, changing, and I pace on the deck like a bloke who’s forgotten how to stand still. I check the ring in my pocket for the third time—it’s there, obviously. Still shining. Still terrifying.
The sliding door opens, and she steps out, barefoot, in a soft sundress that makes my heart stutter. She’s wearing that half-smile that tells me she’s already suspicious.
“Okay,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “What’s happening? First you insist on getting changed and now… this?”
I laugh and pull out a chair for her. “It’s just dinner. Can’t a man spoil his brilliant, hot girlfriend without it being an event?”
She narrows her eyes but takes her seat. “Mm-hmm.”
I sit down across from her, trying to act like everything’s normal.
We eat. We talk. She teases me about the playlist. All the while, I pretend not to notice I’m sweating like I just played ninety minutes under the scorching sun.
And when the plates are cleared and the tea is cooling in our mugs, I push back my chair and stand.
Her brows rise again. “What are y—”
The words die on her tongue as I take the box out of my pocket and get down on one knee.
Her hand flies to her mouth, and I swear her eyes are already watering. “Archie!”
“Kat,” I begin, my voice wobbling more than I thought it would.
“You are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known.
And I mean that in every sense—extra, dramatic, frustrating, brilliant, beautiful…
all of it. You challenge me, support me, steal all the duvet, and somehow make me feel like the luckiest man in the world even on your worst days. ”
Her lips part, like she’s trying to say something, but I press on.
“I never thought I’d meet someone who made me feel this certain. But I am certain. Of you. Of us. Of what I want the rest of my life to look like. And the answer is you. Always you.”
I open the box.
“So… will you marry me?”
For a moment, she just stares at me, still and quiet. Then, a smile breaks onto that flawless face of hers, and she nods slowly. “Yes. Of course I will.”
Relief crashes over me, and I stand, pulling her up with me into a kiss that’s all joy, tears, and that perfect smell of forever.
Now this is the dream.