Epilogue
KIERAN
The flat was silent when I eased the front door shut with my elbow. Hmm. Usually, Ashby woke at the crack of dawn for a run or some early-morning design inspiration but apparently, not today. So—late night, then.
Note to self: get him to bed early tonight, use sexy means if necessary. Actually, use sexy means regardless.
Essentials done, I padded down the short hallway to our bedroom.
He’d left the door open, and I peeked inside to find him sprawled in a messy tumble of blankets, much like a content cat in a patch of sunlight that filtered in from the garden.
Aww. Dina, curled up by his feet, roused enough for a sleepy tail wag before she closed her eyes again.
Oh no, you don’t. I was awake, and misery loves company.
“Come on, girl,” I called softly, too low to wake Ashby, who slept like a log. “Morning run.”
She opened one eye, then the other, all floppy ears and indecision.
I beckoned her over, and she stretched with a small huff before hopping off the bed as quietly as a dog her size could manage.
No hesitation as she pressed up against me, vastly different to the day we’d met her at the shelter.
She’d had it rough with a previous owner, scars on her belly and a fear of loud voices.
It took three visits before she even dared to sniff our hands.
Now? Every day was her favourite day ever.
I changed clothes and inhaled some tea, Dina tailing me as if to say, Any time now, mate.
So we slipped out into the quiet morning, jogged half a mile until we reached open fields.
I’d done enough night shifts to appreciate these hushed hours—the hiss of someone’s sprinkler, the faint hum of an occasional car.
By the time we returned, my lids felt heavier but my mind was calm, no longer reviewing every single decision I’d made during my A&E shift.
Ashby was still in the same spot, although the sun had moved on.
I stood in the doorway for a minute just to watch him, a bright tug in my belly as I thought of the ring I’d hidden in my sock drawer.
Yeah, we’d been together for less than a year. But I’d known him for most of my life, knew there was no one else I wanted to spend the rest with, knew he’d say yes. I still had to come up with a mind-blowing proposal, though—ideally not blurting it out over take-away pizza and a Netflix movie.
All right. Shower time.
When I emerged, tired but clean, Ashby was awake. Well—upright, anyway, perched on a kitchen chair and clutching a cup of coffee like it promised salvation. I hugged him from behind and pressed a smile into his messy hair. “Late one, huh?”
He made a pleased hum that I took as an affirmative, tipping his head back against my chest. “Hi, babe.”
It seemed like the current extent of his vocabulary, so I gave him a squeeze and went to rummage through the fridge for eggs and cheese.
Ashby’s revamp plans for the local café took up half the worktop—bits of wallpaper samples, printouts of funky sofas.
One foot in his dad’s business and the other in this new design venture, Ashby had pulled more late shifts than me lately.
I carefully moved his plans aside to protect them from my mediocre attempt at cooking breakfast.
While Dina gave a little shake and flopped on Ashby’s feet, I busied myself at the stove. He seemed to be waking up bit by bit, hair still sticking up in six directions but eyes a little brighter, smiling as he watched me move about.
“Thanks for making breakfast,” he said eventually. “Know you must be tired.”
“I’ll crash in a little while, yeah.” I flicked him a glance just as he got up, Dina trotting after him, and joined me by the stove. One of his arms wound around my waist, his other hand dipping below the waistband of my jogging bottoms to cup my arse.
“Good morning,” he said. “Again.” The smile was obvious in his voice. “How was your night?”
“Not too bad.” I turned my head for a lazy, coffee-flavoured kiss before I continued.
“Had a forty-something bloke come in with acute chest pain and excluded a heart attack—seems like it was a side effect of some medication. Good practice since GPs get a fair number of patients like that. Got to learn what’s serious and what isn’t if I’m gonna take over Dr McAllister’s practice one day. ”
“So if you get my heart racing”—Ashby squeezed my bum without real intent—“you’ll know if it’s a medical problem or just hormones?”
I bit down on a grin. “Wow, cheesy.”
“You’re the one who still insists on, like, wooing me.” As always when it came up, his tone held a gently mocking edge even though I knew he was flattered. Which was why I wouldn’t let up anytime soon.
“I’ve got years to make up for,” I told him. It wasn’t a new exchange, but something about this moment felt poignant—the two of us in the quiet of our new kitchen, in a place we’d chosen together.
Maybe he sensed it too because his voice dipped, low and serious. “Listen, it’s not—I wasn’t mad in the first place. But it’s about time you stop apologising.”
I ducked my head, staring at the thickening eggs on the stove, his solid weight pressed up against my back. “I hurt you, though.”
“Yeah.” He sounded matter-of-fact. “But you didn’t mean to, and you didn’t know. Also? You’re making me so, so happy now.”
“Marry me?” I tossed it out without thinking, fuck, couldn’t take it back or laugh it off. Bloody typical—no plan, just pure, stupid impulsiveness.
He went still against me. “That a joke?”
“No joke.” Slowly, I turned, his hold on me loosening just enough to allow it. My heart beat a painful rhythm against my ribs. “But I didn’t mean to do it like this. I was going to make it romantic.”
Something uncoiled in his expression, a quiet bloom of warmth that started in his eyes, a second before his mouth caught up, bright and reckless. “Where’s my ring?”
A slightly hysterical laugh tickled the back of my throat. I couldn’t look away from him. “Sock drawer.”
“Really?” His eyes crinkled up at the corners. Fuck, he was breathtaking. “You couldn’t think of a more original place to hide it?”
“You’re the one with the elaborate plans and ideas. Me? All I’ve got is poor impulse control.” I exhaled, inhaled. “Seriously, I wanted to do something special. Something perfect. Not, like, both of us half-asleep after a short night.”
For a golden second, he merely watched me. Then he laughed, soft and fond, one of his hands coming up to cup my face. “No, see, this is perfect. Because it’s so you. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know?”
Words. I had none. Zero.
So I grabbed him for a hard, happy kiss that said it better than I ever could. He opened for me, pulled me closer with another laugh and didn’t stop even when the smell of burnt eggs made me utter a curse, reaching back blindly to flick off the stove.
And yeah—maybe he was right. Maybe this was perfect.
Because it was us.