Epilogue
Violet
One year later
“I swear I thought Simon was gonna propose!” I lean across the kitchen counter, arms folded, eyes wide as I whisper to Nora.
She glances over her shoulder to where Simon and Robbie help Nash with something in the living room. “Honestly?” she whispers. “Same.”
“I mean, all the signs pointed to him hiding something. He was jittery. Couldn’t sit still. I swear, he put his hand in his pocket a million times. I kept thinking he’d pull out a ring.”
“But never did?”
I shake my head. “Never did. And come on! What better place is there to propose to someone than the tree-lighting ceremony in Rockefeller Center, after fulfilling a yearlong promise of an ice-skating adventure?”
“That would definitely be something to remember. And so Simon. He’s all about the romantic gestures.”
“Right?”
Nora nods. “How was the trip though, besides that?”
“Well, it was cold. And crowded. And we missed all the snow. It fell last week, so all that was left was this gray, slushy mess.”
Nora wrinkles her nose. “That doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”
“Simon kept apologizing. He’d built a northern winter up to be this amazing thing and even he said it was kind of lackluster.
” I smile. “But being with him was great. The food was good. The tree-lighting ceremony was spectacular.” I pull out my phone and flip through my photos until I come to a selfie of the two of us, under the tree.
Our cheeks are pressed together, our smile huge, the lights twinkle and blur behind us.
Nora sighs and I flip to the next picture.
“A woman walking by offered to take this one for us.”
It’s a full body shot. Simon’s arm is around my shoulder. I’m leaning in close, grinning widely as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“See?” Nora asks. “Total proposal vibes.”
I lift my hand and wiggle my finger. “No ring.”
Simon
“I thought you were gonna propose.” Robbie rests his elbows on his knees and leans close to whisper.
“I did too. But it just kept feeling wrong.”
“Oh come on! A trip to New York? Ice-skating? Big fat snowflakes falling as you pull the box out of your pocket? That has Simon Holiday written all over it.”
I shrug. “I wanted it to be special.”
“And that wasn’t special enough for you?” Robbie sits back. “Sheesh. Talk about high standards.”
“Come on. What wouldn’t you do for Nora?”
“I’d go to the ends of the earth for that woman.”
“Exactly.”
Robbie frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that standing there, under the Christmas tree, I had a better idea.”
“Better than Rockefeller Center?”
“Way better.”
Violet
Christmas comes and goes.
No ring.
I tell myself maybe Simon will propose on New Year’s.
Alas…
No ring.
He’s still a jittery mess, but I’m starting to think that has more to do with our grand re-re-opening than anything to do with us.
After a year of planning and dreaming and late-night brainstorming over flour-dusted counters, we finally closed Sterling’s for two weeks in December to renovate—then reopen as Holiday Coffee & Cake.
Sure, that’s his name, not mine, but it was our shared dream from the start. Using it felt special. Like a full circle moment. And since the business belongs to both of us now, I didn’t just accept the name. I wanted it.
I half expected Simon to protest—he always puts me first—but he didn’t. Which, honestly, only fueled my suspicion that a proposal was coming. After all, the name would fit if we were engaged.
But here we are.
The morning of our grand re-re-opening, and my left hand is still heartbreakingly bare.
The alarm goes off before sunrise. The house hums with the sound of the coffeemaker sputtering to life, cinnamon and roasted beans already drifting through the kitchen.
Simon’s as jittery as his namesake brew, moving around like a man with too many thoughts in his head and not enough air to hold them.
He pours my drink and slides it toward me, the steam curling between us.
“In case I haven’t said it yet,” I tell him, wrapping both hands around the mug, “you were right. Coffee is so much more than brown water. I don’t know why I fought you on it for so long.”
Simon smiles, downs his espresso in one practiced motion, and refills his cup. I wait for a witty comeback, something about converting me to the dark roast side.
And wait…
And wait…
And—
“You about ready to go?” Simon asks instead, setting down his cup. “I wanna check the new sign, make sure everything’s perfect before we open to the public.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
We grab our coats and keys and step outside. The air is cold and clean, the kind of crisp Florida winter morning that passes for brisk. Dew glints on the grass like tiny lights.
There, on the porch, sits a single card.
I pause and glance at Simon. He’s smiling softly, that secret-keeping tilt to his lips. I bend and pick it up.
His familiar handwriting curls across the envelope:
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
I open the card. The inside is blank. My brow furrows as I look up at him, and he ducks his chin, those blue eyes gleaming.
“That first day,” he says quietly, “you gave me a cinnamon roll that warmed my heart. You didn’t want to—I could tell—but you did. And I’m ever so grateful.”
My throat tightens. “No more than me, Simon Holiday. No more than me.”
I kiss his cheek, and he offers his arm. I thread mine through, feeling the rough wool of his coat under my hand, the steady warmth of his body beside mine.
We take the steps, and at the base of the walk, another card waits.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
Another blank interior. Simon leans in and presses a kiss to the top of my head, whispering, “You gave me a chance at the tree-lighting ceremony. You didn’t want to, but you did. That night’s become one of my favorite memories. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
Emotion ripples through me, sweet and sharp. “I’m so glad I did.”
We keep walking. The neighborhood is hushed, the sky faintly pink with dawn. Under the first streetlamp lies another card. Then another. And another.
By the time we reach the bakery, my gloved hand holds eleven cards—eleven tiny love notes, each one stitched to a memory, each word a thread weaving us closer. My heart feels full to bursting.
Right in front of the door waits the final card. Simon bends, picks it up, and, before I can blink, drops to one knee.
He hands it to me, and though I already know what’s coming, my hands tremble as I unfold it and read aloud:
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
My voice shakes. My heart soars. Simon takes my hand.
“Today,” he says, eyes bright, “I hope you’ll give me all the rest of your years. The entirety of forever. I’ve existed without you in my life, and I never want to experience that again. Violet Sterling, will you be my wife?”
He reaches into his pocket—just like he did a dozen times in New York when I was hoping—and pulls out a small, black velvet box. Inside, a diamond catches the morning light and scatters it like frost.
I drop to my knees beside him, laughing through tears. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Si. So long.”
He slips the ring onto my finger, and I fling my arms around his neck, crying freely, dizzy with joy.
When he kisses me, the world goes still—the kind of stillness that hums with promise.
“Do you trust me?” he murmurs.
“Always. Forever. With everything.”
He traces a thumb along my cheek. “I couldn’t let you walk into your bakery with the wrong last name.”
I laugh through the tears. “Hate to break it to you, but my name doesn’t change just because you proposed.”
He shrugs. “Not legally. But now you know, without a doubt, that I’m yours and you’re mine. You can walk into that bakery and feel like a Holiday from the very first step inside our dream come true.”
And suddenly, for a heartbeat, I feel them—Mom and Dad—standing behind the counter inside, shoulder to shoulder, smiling through the glass.
I gasp and glance toward the window. The bakery is dark. Silent. Still.
Simon slides the key into the lock and swings open the door. Warm air spills out, carrying the faint scent of sugar and coffee beans waiting to be brewed.
Together, we step inside—into light, into laughter, into the future we’ve spent a lifetime finding our way back to.
I hope you loved Simon and Violet as much as I do!