Epilogue Elizabeth
ONE YEAR LATER
The animal charity’s gala at City Park was in full swing, the evening alive with laughter, champagne bubbles, and the excited yips of puppies finding their forever homes. The twinkling string lights above us cast everything in a golden glow, making it feel like something straight out of a movie.
And in a way, it was.
Because once upon a time, this was the exact place I had orchestrated a ridiculous PR stunt—a fake first date that spiraled into one of the most absurd plans I’d ever hatched.
I had put Sophie and Logan together in front of the cameras, all to convince the world that he was in a perfect relationship.
And now, I was standing here with him, and I was the one in the relationship. Not a perfect relationship, but a real one.
“Full circle,” Logan murmured, his arm slung lazily around my shoulders as he surveyed the scene.
I tilted my head up to look at him, the warm glow of the gala lights catching in his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”
He smirked. “This is where it all started. The fake date. Sophie and I posing for the cameras, all kissy-kissy. While you stood off to the side, pretending you didn’t care. But then, you just happened to ‘accidentally’ fall into my arms.”
I laughed, shaking my head, playing along. “You’re remembering that wrong. I tripped. Clearly. Because of Buttons. And because of you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure, yeah, you ‘tripped.’ Right into my arms. Convenient.”
I rolled my eyes, as warmth flickered in my chest. “I can’t believe you’re blaming a poor, defenseless puppy to cover your smooth moves, Mr. Richards.”
He flashed a grin. “Blaming? No way. I owe that dog a treat.”
Then, before I could catch on to what he was doing, he nudged me toward a small puppy pen in the middle of the gala, where six playful, floppy-eared puppies were currently tumbling over each other.
“Come on,” he said, grinning. “Let’s meet our new puppy.”
Inside the pen, a tiny, wriggling ball of fur barreled toward us, his tail wagging so hard his entire body moved with it. He looked just like his father, Buttons. The difference? This dog was ours.
Logan crouched to scoop him up. “Think he’ll be as much trouble as his dad?”
“Worse,” I said, grinning. “He’s got us as parents.”
The puppy licked his chin, then immediately tried to chew on my dress’s hem. I reached out to scratch his ears, but Logan caught my hand, threading his fingers through mine. When I looked up, his expression had softened.
“This feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “Being here. Settling down for a while.”
I nodded, my heart full. Logan had just finished his latest world tour—a massive success—and for the first time, we had time just to be. I’d joined him on the road whenever I could, soaking in late-night adventures and stolen moments between shows. But now, we were home.
The animal charity had done so well in the past year that they’d expanded to open a no-kill shelter on a sprawling farm in Mississippi. Their founder, Paula, had become one of my favorite clients, and I’d thrown myself into helping them grow.
“You know,” Logan mused, standing up with the puppy still in his arms, “this gala might be a good excuse to come back here every year.”
I smiled. “You don’t need an excuse. This city’s home.”
Logan’s gaze softened, his voice quieter now. “And so are you.”
Before I could respond, he shifted the puppy to one arm and reached into his pocket.
And then he was dropping to one knee. The world seemed to stop as Logan looked up at me, the night air thick with anticipation.
“Elizabeth,” he said, holding up a simple but stunning ring, “a year ago, I didn’t think I’d ever get to stand here with you like this.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“You showed me what it means to believe in someone,” Logan continued, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “To fight for something real. And to build a life that’s messy and chaotic and beautiful.”
The puppy barked, squirming in his arms, and we both laughed.
“And now, I want you to be mine forever. Will you marry me?”
Tears blurred my vision as I nodded, unable to speak.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Of course.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger and pulled me into a kiss, the sounds of the gala and the world around us melting away.
The puppy yipped in protest, wiggling between us, and we both laughed, breaking apart just enough to settle him. As we walked back toward the party, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed.
And it was true, Sophie and Lambert were still married.
Turns out, they’d eloped at eighteen, and even though they filed for divorce, it had never gone through.
Sophie thought Lambert had handled it. Lambert thought Sophie had handled it.
Neither of them actually had. Now, they were blissfully happy.
Lambert had even started a plumbing business catering exclusively to the rich and famous in Hollywood. It was called The Royal Flush.
Sarah and Jake had tied the knot in a ceremony as delightful as they were.
The reception had a brass band and a gumbo station.
The gene therapy medical trial that Jake was in showed promise in slowing the nerve degeneration in his legs.
And last week, they announced that they were expecting their first child, a girl.
Mick had been at the wedding, grumbling the entire time, but it was impossible to ignore the way he had softened over the past year. He had become like a father to me.
As for Logan and me? We were building something solid. Something real. As we reached the edge of the party, he pulled me into a slow spin beneath the string lights, his lips brushing against my ear.
A year ago, I didn’t know that love wasn’t about control. That it wasn’t about fixing things or managing outcomes.
It was about showing up.
It was about choosing someone, every single day, even when things got messy.
And with Logan, life promised to be nothing but messy.
But it was the kind of mess I’d finally learned to welcome.
The kind that meant living with your whole heart, even if it meant breaking it open sometimes.
The kind that meant late-night arguments, early-morning laughter, and inside jokes no one else would ever understand.
The kind that meant love, not the polished, filtered version, but the real, breathing, untidy kind.
We’d stumbled into this—backwards, sideways, wrapped in a leash and a lie.
And somehow, we’d found our way forward.
It started with a fake relationship.
But it ended with two people choosing each other for real.
THE END