Epilogue
Alec
Okay, this is it. I’m ready.
Who am I kidding? I’m anything but ready.
I’ve performed in front of thirty thousand people and never once felt like I might puke, pass out, or sprint in the opposite direction.
Tonight?
Yeah. All three.
My palms are sweating through my shirt. My heart hasn’t slowed in fifteen minutes. The ring box in my back pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. And Mila—my tiny, terrifying accomplice—is skipping ahead of me like we’re just going out for ice cream.
“Stop skipping,” I whisper. “You’re going to blow our cover.”
She stops.
Turns.
Puts her hands on her hips.
“You said be casual.”
“That’s . . . not casual. That’s suspiciously joyful.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m proposing to your mother. I’m allowed to be dramatic.”
She shrugs like this is barely an event. “Just don’t faint.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
We turn the corner, and the garden comes into view.
Aly outdid herself, with the help of Ari who’s been my soundboard since the moment I began to search for the perfect ring.
Strands of warm glass bulb lights hang from the branches like low constellations. A hundred mason jars with tea candles line the path, flickering gently in the early spring breeze. There’s a small arc of wildflowers—even in March, she managed to find them—woven into a crescent above a wooden bench.
It’s intimate and soft and exactly what Mara deserves.
I swallow hard.
She always said she loved gardens at dusk.
“Is it perfect?” Mila asks.
“It’s . . . yeah,” I breathe. “It’s perfect.”
“Good,” she says. “Because she’s coming.”
My spine straightens. Mila grabs my hand with a conspiratorial squeeze before dashing off behind a hedgerow—Aly’s cue to collect her and keep her hidden until the right moment.
Footsteps sound behind me.
“Alec?”
I turn.
Mara is standing at the garden gate, wrapped in a soft jacket, hair pulled back with a couple of loose strands brushing her cheeks. She looks beautiful—tired, cautious, hopeful. Like someone still learning what it means to breathe without waiting for the next hit of grief.
Her eyes widen as she takes everything in.
The lights.
The candles.
The flowers.
Then me.
“What . . . what is this?” she asks softly.
“Come here.”
She walks toward me slowly, like she’s afraid the whole thing will disappear if she moves too fast. When she reaches me, her fingers brush mine—lightly, searching.
I take both her hands. “Mara. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Her breath catches. “Alec, if this is about the trip, or—”
“It’s not.”
I shake my head, stepping closer.
“It’s about us.”
Her eyes soften, confused and gentle. “Okay.”
“I didn’t know how to love anyone before you,” I say. “I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know what it felt like to want a future that wasn’t just survival. But then you moved into that penthouse across from mine and . . .”
I laugh once—helpless. “You rearranged me.”
Her eyes shine instantly. My throat tightens.
“You and Mila . . . you became my home before I even realized I’d been searching for one.”
She exhales shakily. “Alec . . .”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to grow for,” I continue, voice unsteady. “The first person I want to wake up beside for the rest of my life. The first person I want to fight with, and fight for, and come back to every single time.”
Her lips tremble. “I—”
“And I want the world to know it,” I say, because it’s true. “I want everyone—your mother, my bandmates, the neighbors, the goddamn mailman—to know you’re mine and I’m yours, and this is hopefully, forever.”
My hand reaches for the ring box.
Her breath stops.
I lower myself to one knee.
Her hand flies to her mouth. Tears spill instantly.
“Mara,” I say, voice rough, “I love you. With everything I am, everything I’m trying to become, and everything I didn’t think I’d ever have. And if you let me . . . I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”
I open the box.
She gasps—a soft, broken sound.
Behind us, in the bushes:
“Mom, say yes,” Mila whisper-screams.
Mara laughs through a sob. “Oh my God—Mila—”
“Just say it, we want to marry him,” Mila stage-whispers again.
Mara looks back at me.
And for a moment the whole world feels still—just her and me, suspended in a breath that feels like destiny. She lowers herself to her knees in front of me, cupping my face with shaking hands.
“Yes,” she says again. “I love you. Of course it’s yes.”
Then I pull Mara to me.
It hits with the force of every emotion we’ve held back—every fear, every longing, every quiet night wondering if we were allowed to have so much joy.
Her lips meet mine in a rush, urgent and trembling, like she’s trying to memorize the moment our lives change forever. I sink my hands into her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until she melts against me, tears damp against my cheeks.
She tastes like hope. Like the future. Like the place I didn’t know I was searching for.
Her breath catches as she leans into me, and I kiss her again—slower this time, meaningful, sealing something sacred between us. She whispers my name against my mouth, her voice shaking, her hands gripping my jacket as if she’s grounding herself to this exact second.
I feel her tears.
I feel her joy.
I feel everything.
She’s mine, and I’m hers.
Finally.
Forever.