Epilogue
One year later
I t’s a blustery winter day when I step into The Dessert Wolf and inhale the scent of sugar and icing. Large windows look out on Michigan Avenue, and crisp rows of shiny white tiles cover the floor and walls. A large glass case runs almost the length of the room, filled with rows and rows of colorful pastries and cakes, each one a work of art.
Rafe stands behind the counter, bent over a sketchbook, wearing a white coat with an asymmetrical line of buttons and a monogrammed W on the breast. After leaving WMC, he used some of the money from his social media accounts to rent and renovate this space to finally follow his dream. It was a ton of work, but he was determined, and now the linen-covered tables are full every day, and a line forms outside the door every morning.
I watch him for a moment, his pencil flying. He needs a haircut, and a dark curl has fallen over his forehead, just the way I love it. He looks up, and when he sees me, he smiles. It still catches me off guard in the best possible way every single time.
I meet him at the end of the counter, where I lean over for a kiss.
“How did it go?” he asks.
“We got the job,” I reply. “Stole it right out from under WMC.”
His smile grows even wider. “That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.”
“And”—I step back and tug on the lapels of my suit jacket—“you’re looking at the brand-new VP of operations at EnviroTech.”
“Yes!” Rafe says, pumping his fist. He lifts the counter flap and comes to the other side, wrapping his arms around me and swinging me off the ground. “I knew you’d get it.”
He places me back on the floor, and I tuck that errant lock of hair back.
“How did things go with your dad?” I ask.
David had planned to visit Rafe’s shop for the first time today. Their relationship has been strained since Rafe left WMC, but they’re attempting to reconcile while Rafe’s mom acts as a go-between. She told him how much she regretted being the reason he refused to stand up to David and is doing everything to make it up to him.
Rafe nods, his mouth crooking into a tentative smile. “Good. He seemed a little impressed, I think. We’re having lunch next week. We have a long way to go, but it’s a start.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy to hear that.” He kisses me again and I stare up at him, feeling more content than I have any right to be.
I peer over his shoulder at the sketchbook lying on the counter. “Do I finally get to see?”
He turns to grab it and holds it against his chest.
“You sure you’re ready?”
“Yes! I can’t believe you made me wait this long.”
Finally, he flips it around to reveal an elaborate multitiered cake. Our wedding cake. Rafe proposed three months ago during a weekend getaway. Of course I said yes, and I’ve been floating on cloud nine ever since. My parents adore him and are so proud of all my new accomplishments. They come to the shop every week to load up on goodies and insist on paying no matter how often Rafe tells them it isn’t necessary. I called them on my way here to share the news about my promotion, and they’ve invited us for a celebratory dinner tomorrow night.
I reach out to trace his drawing as my eyes well with tears.
“It’s incredible,” I whisper, and Rafe beams at me.
“I’m also trying out two new flavors for it,” he adds. He puts down the book and picks up two small plates topped with thick slices of cake. “Tell me what you think.”
He leads me towards the small private table he always keeps reserved in the corner. After putting the cake down, he hands me a fork.
At that moment, a squeal draws our attention to the doorway as Lan and Gabrielle enter the shop.
“You made it!” I scream, running over to wrap them in a hug. It’s been a year since we’ve seen each other, not since the night on the yacht, though we’ve been in contact almost daily.
Lan was awarded one of the spots in the training program, and she’s just accepted a job as the new director of sales here in Chicago. Gabrielle is moving to be with her in a few weeks, and I’m so excited we’ll all be living in the same city.
“How was the flight?” I ask as we settle down at the table.
“It was fine,” Gabrielle says. “I have news.”
“What?” I ask as I hand her a fork.
“WMC has been making big strides in the areas of diversity and inclusion, and they’ve asked me to head the task force on BIPOC and queer recruitment and workplace policy.”
I blink, clearing another blur of tears from my eyes. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you and for everyone at WMC.”
“None of it would have happened without you,” Gabrielle says.
“I’m so glad they’re trying.” I truly mean it. My only hope for WMC is that they’ve learned from their mistakes. Rory was fired because of my email, and Rafe has heard through the family grapevine that he’s been having trouble finding a new job and had to move back in with his parents. I could pretend to feel bad about that, but I really don’t.
We also haven’t seen Hannah since Hawaii, but Rafe’s mom says she’s met someone new and has moved on.
“So, tell us everything about the wedding plans,” Lan says.
I begin rattling off details to their adoring looks.
“Of course, Rafe is making the cake.”
His hands are braced on the back of my chair, and he nods at the two slices of cake on the table. “Tell me which one you like better. One is key lime and basil, and the other is mango chocolate.”
Lan and Gabrielle immediately dig in.
“I’m not sure how to choose,” Gabrielle says. “Can’t you have both?”
“These are incredible,” Lan agrees, going in for another bite.
“Are they here yet?” Molly shouts as she bursts into the shop a minute later.
She’s heard everything about Lan and Gabrielle, and I couldn’t wait for them all to meet. The three of them crash into a gigantic hug, squealing like they’re old friends.
Rafe bends down and speaks in my ear. “Come help me get the rest of the stuff I prepared for you.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say as Molly slides into her seat, talking a thousand miles a minute.
I follow Rafe to the counter, where he opens a fridge, pulls out several decadent desserts along with a bottle of Champagne, and sets them on the counter.
“Have I ever told you how good you look in this fancy white coat?” I ask, adjusting his collar and leaning against him.
“Only every single day.” I grin and press my mouth to his. “Have I ever told you how hot you look in these skirts?”
“You might have mentioned it.”
Molly, Lan, and Gabrielle are chattering so loud that everyone looks their way.
“I’m sorry if we clear out your shop,” I say, but he’s watching them with a serene expression. He shakes his head and gives me his crooked smile.
“I think people like them,” he muses.
“I like them too. It’s going to be so great having them here.”
“Are you happy?” he asks.
“Of course I’m happy. I’ve never been happier. I have a job I love, your shop is a hit, and I get to marry my favorite villain in a few months. Are you happy, Rafe?”
He smiles and touches his forehead to mine. “Of course I am, Tris.” Then he winks. “With you, I’m always a million out of ten.”