Epilogue
Cam
The presenter droned on at the podium, stretching out the moment like he was being paid by the syllable. Emily’s knee bounced against mine. Her grip tightened another fraction, which I hadn’t thought was physically possible.
She was going to break my hand.
Not that I was complaining. If she needed to squeeze the life out of my fingers to get through the next few minutes, she could have at it.
Still, I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re not.”
“If I don’t win, I’m going to throw up.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “And if I do win, I’m also going to throw up. So either way, prepare yourself.”
“Noted.”
The presenter cleared his throat, shuffling his notes with the kind of theatrical pause that made me want to storm the stage and read the damn card myself.
“And this year’s recipient of the North Carolina Emerging Artist Award is...” He smiled out at the audience. “Emily McIntyre.”
The silence around us was deafening for a split second, before the roar of applause washed over us. Emily didn’t move. She just stared at the stage like it was a foreign country she wasn’t allowed to enter.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
I leaned in close. “Sweetheart, that’s you. You have to go up there now.”
“Oh god.” She released my hand and stood on shaky legs. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
I watched her make her way to the stage, my heart pounding like it was me up there instead of her. She climbed the stairs, accepted the award from the presenter, and turned to face the audience.
The stage lights caught the gold of her hair, the flush on her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes. She smiled for the photographer, the trophy clutched to her chest, and I couldn’t look away.
That was my girl up there.
My girl, who’d been told a thousand times she wasn’t good enough. Who’d carried scars and shame and a lifetime of someone else’s cruelty. Who’d clawed her way out of the dark and built something beautiful from the wreckage.
Pride burned through me, fierce and hot.
She came back down the stairs with a smile that could rival the sun. I was on my feet before she reached me, pulling her into my arms right there in the middle of the nominee’s section.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I murmured against her hair.
She laughed, the sound wet and shaky. “I didn’t throw up.”
“I noticed. Very impressed.”
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. More awards, more applause, none of it registering because Emily was pressed against my side, her fingers tangled with mine, her trophy balanced on her lap.
When it finally ended, we joined the stream of people flowing toward the exits. Emily kept looking down at the award in her hands like she expected it to disappear.
“It’s real,” I told her.
“I know.”
“You keep checking.”
“I know that too.” She grinned up at me, radiant. “It’s just because I can’t believe it’s real.”
We reached the wide double doors leading out to the atrium and Emily stopped dead.
I followed her gaze and my stomach dropped.
Monica and Anthony McIntyre stood just beyond the threshold, clearly positioned to intercept us. Monica wore a fixed smile that honestly looked a little ghastly. Anthony looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, which was at least consistent.
Every muscle in my body pulled tight, coiling like a spring, ready to snap. I didn’t care if we were in a gallery. I didn’t care if there were cameras. If they said one wrong word to her, I was going to cause a scene that would make the evening news.
I stepped forward, putting my body between them and Emily.
But she squeezed my hand. Hard. A silent plea to stand down.
Monica stepped forward. “Emily, darling.”
“Sorry.” Emily’s voice was pleasant. Polite. Ice cold. “Do I know you?”
Monica let out a brittle laugh. “What are you talking about? I’m your mother. I love you.” She pressed a hand to her chest in a gesture that was probably meant to look sincere. “We just wanted to see you get your award.”
Emily tilted her head, studying Monica like she was a mildly interesting piece of art. “You must be mistaken. My mother was never interested in my art. In fact, she told me a thousand times I was too stupid to do it.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Just squeezed my hand again and walked by them, head high, shoulders back, trophy gleaming under the atrium lights.
I fell into step beside her, leaving Monica and Anthony standing there with their mouths open and their delusions shattered.
Once we were well out of earshot, she said, “Now I really think I’m going to throw up.”
We made it another twenty feet before I spotted an alcove off to the side. I tugged Emily toward it, pulling her into the quiet space and wrapping my arms around her.
She was shaking.
“Hey.” I held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” Her voice was muffled against my chest. “I know you do.”
We stood there for a long moment, just breathing together. Gradually, the trembling eased. Her grip on my jacket loosened.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes bright but steady. “I can’t believe she had the audacity to turn up here.”
“Me either, but let’s face it. She’s struggled for a year with the boundaries you’ve put around her. She was always going to push it at some point.”
“True.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ve been dreading that moment for so long. Building it up in my head as this huge, terrifying thing. And then it just... happened. And I didn’t fall apart. I can’t wait to talk this over in therapy on Monday.”
“You were incredible.” I cupped her face in my hands. “Walking away like that. Not giving her an inch. I’m so proud of you.”
She turned her head to press a kiss to my palm. “Thank you. And thank you for standing by me.”
The words hit me square in the chest. “Always, sweetheart. I love you, Emily. So much.”
“I love you too.” She rose up on her toes and kissed me, soft and sweet. “Now come on. Everyone’s waiting outside and I’m pretty sure if we don’t get out there soon, your mother’s going to send a search party.”
The plaza outside the museum was chaos.
Good chaos. The best kind of chaos. A wall of familiar faces turned toward us as we pushed through the doors, and the noise that erupted was loud enough to scatter a flock of birds from a nearby tree.
My parents were there, Mom already crying, Dad grinning so wide I could see it from thirty feet away. Travis and Brooke. Erica and Devin, their kids running circles around everyone’s legs. And the girls, the whole pack of them. Mia and Maya and Hannah and Poppy and Cassidy and the twins.
They swarmed Emily like she was a returning hero, which I suppose she was.
“Let me see it!” Poppy grabbed for the trophy. “Oh my god, it’s so pretty!”
“Em, I’m so proud of you!” Mia pulled her into a fierce hug. “I knew you could do it. I knew it.”
My mother was next, clasping Emily’s face between her hands and saying something I couldn’t hear over the general commotion. Whatever it was had happy tears shimmering in Emily’s eyes.
I hung back and let them have her. She deserved this. Deserved every bit of love they were pouring over her.
Dad appeared at my elbow. “Hell of a woman you’ve got there, son.”
“Don’t I know it.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, and we stood together watching Emily get passed from hug to hug, her cheeks flushed, her smile so bright it hurt to look at.
Movement near the parking lot caught my eye. A familiar car pulling up to the curb.
Natascha climbed out and opened the back door. Two small bodies exploded from the vehicle like they’d been fired from a cannon.
“Emily! Emily! Did you win? Daddy said you were gonna win!”
Alice reached her first, throwing her arms around Emily’s waist. Audrey was half a second behind, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I did win.” Emily crouched down to their level, holding out the trophy. “See?”
“Whoa.” Alice’s eyes went huge. “It’s so shiny.”
“Can I hold it?” Audrey asked.
“Sure you can but be careful. It’s heavy.”
I watched the three of them huddle around the award, Alice’s pigtails already coming loose, Audrey’s ponytail askew. No makeup. No carefully curated outfits. Just two kids in comfortable clothes, excited to see the woman they loved win something special.
Could I have imagined this a year ago? No way. They would have arrived looking like miniature adults.
But Emily had done something I never could. She’d sat Natascha down and shared some of her story. The pressure she’d faced as a child. The damage it had done. How she was dealing with it now. I would forever be grateful to Emily for that, and to Natascha for listening.
She caught Emily’s eye. “Congratulations on your win. That’s a big deal.”
“Thank you.” Emily straightened up, one hand still resting on Alice’s shoulder as she gave Natasha a sweet smile. “I appreciate you bringing them.”
“Of course.” Natascha’s gaze dropped to the girls. “Be good for your dad. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, mommy.” Kisses and cuddles were exchanged, then Natascha climbed back into her car, leaving without fanfare, which was its own kind of miracle.
“Alright, everyone.” My mom clapped her hands, shifting into organizational mode. “Reservations are in forty-five minutes. Let’s get moving.”
The group began to disperse, breaking off toward their various vehicles. I caught Emily’s hand and tugged her toward my truck, letting the girls run ahead with their cousins. I was more than happy to let them ride with my parents, just so I had a few moments alone with my woman.
“Hey.” I backed her up against the passenger door, caging her in with my arms. “Before we go.”
She tilted her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Before we go what?”
“I just need a second.”
“A second to do what?”
I kissed her.
Not soft this time. Not sweet. I kissed her like I’d been wanting to all day, deep and thorough, my hands sliding to her hips to pull her closer. She made a small sound against my mouth and fisted her hands in my shirt.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were dark and her breathing was unsteady.
“Cam.” Her voice was husky. “We’re in a parking lot. Your entire family is right there.”
“Don’t care.”
“The girls...”
“Are with my mom.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “I just needed you to know.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m so goddamn proud of you I can barely stand it.” I brushed my lips across hers, lighter this time. “That watching you up on that stage was one of the best moments of my life. That I love you more than I have words for.” Another kiss, barely a whisper of contact.
Her hands came up to frame my face, “I love you, too. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
That almost did me in. I kissed her again, expecting it to be our last one before I bundled her into the car. Emily had other ideas. Before I could pull away, she wound her arms around my neck, pressed so close that there was no space between us, and ran her tongue over my lips.
I swallowed a groan, deepening the kiss, wanting more than anything to drag her straight home. But no, we had a whole heap of people waiting to celebrate how amazing and talented she was, so, “I need you to know something else.”
“What’s that?” I reveled in the breathlessness of her reply.
“Later tonight, when we’re alone, I’m going to show you exactly how much I love and adore you.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked.
“That’s a guarantee.”
She laughed, the sound bright and happy, and shoved at my chest. “Okay, Romeo. Let’s get moving before we miss dinner.”
I stole one more kiss, because I could, then opened her door and helped her in.
As I rounded the truck to the driver’s side, I caught sight of my family loading into their cars, Emily’s friends piling into theirs, everyone talking and laughing and full of joy.
This was what happiness looked like.
I climbed in, started the engine, and reached for Emily’s hand.
She laced her fingers through mine and smiled.
Yeah. This was exactly what happiness looked like.