Epilogue #2
I didn’t move right away. I let the crowd thin out first, hanging back until the space opened up enough that I could slip along the perimeter without drawing attention to myself.
Old habits died hard—I still knew how to navigate a media scrum, how to make myself small when I needed to.
Only this time, I wasn’t angling for a quote. I was just trying to get to her.
The hallway behind the press room was quieter, the noise from the main space muffled as the door closed behind me. A couple of team staffers passed by with quick nods, and I followed the familiar path toward the locker room without thinking about it.
Dani was just outside of the locker room, mid-conversation with her coach, when I rounded the corner. Her coach said something I didn’t catch and clapped her on the shoulder before heading off down the hall.
Dani turned, her eyes landing on me like she’d known exactly when I’d arrive.
“There you are,” she said.
It was a simple statement that held so much more.
Like it hadn’t been two years of rebuilding something we’d once broken beyond recognition. Like it hadn’t taken time and distance and a hundred small, careful steps to find our way back to each other.
I closed the last bit of space between us. “I figured I’d let the other reporters have their moment,” I said, my fingers toying with the zipper on her shirt. “Didn’t want to steal the spotlight.”
“Mm,” she hummed, her mouth tilting up. “Very considerate of you.”
My fingers wandered to flip the ends of her hair.
“You were incredible,” I approved.
Her expression softened, the remaining veneer of professionalism melting away. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here,” she said quietly. She tugged me a step closer, just out of the direct line of sight of anyone passing through the hallway.
Her nose grazed mine. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I echoed.
Up close, I could see the tiny details I’d missed from across the room—the way her lashes cast shadows against her cheekbones, the barely-there crease between her eyebrows that only showed up when she was thinking too hard about something.
She was so beautiful.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
We’d talked through every detail of her prepared remarks, weighing the pros and cons of retirement before she’d made her big announcement, but that didn’t mean it was easy or uncomplicated now that she’d done it.
“Uh huh,” she confirmed, exhaling a soft breath. “Better than okay, I think. It feels right.”
I nodded. I understood exactly what she meant.
There was a time when everything about us had felt like that—inevitable, inescapable, like we were moving toward something we didn’t fully understand but couldn’t stop even if we tried. And then, for a longer time, it had felt like the opposite.
Now, though—now it felt like we’d finally found our rhythm again. Not the same as before.
Better.
“Come on,” I urged. I raised up on my toes just enough to press a quick, deliberate kiss to the corner of her mouth. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”
An eyebrow lifted at that, curiosity flickering across her face. “We do?”
“Mmhm.”
“Reese Marlowe,” she said slowly, “what are you up to?”
“Nothing,” I said, entirely unconvincing. “I just thought we could celebrate your big day.”
I watched her slowly wet her lower lip. Something carnal and feral washed over me.
Her voice took on a low burr. “Celebrate how?”
I internally shook myself, knowing there would be time for that later. Instead, I tugged on her hand as I started down the hall, trusting that she’d follow.
“You’ll see.”
The condo was quiet when we stepped inside.
The late afternoon light spilled in through the windows in soft, golden bands that stretched across the hardwood floors.
For a second, Dani hesitated just inside the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the space like she was taking inventory of something that didn’t quite match her expectations.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Either we’ve been robbed, or—”
“Or,” I cut in, reaching back to close the door behind us, “you could walk a little further and enjoy your surprise.”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, that familiar spark of challenge lighting up her eyes, but she did as I asked, moving deeper into the condo with careful, measured steps.
The living room had been transformed in the span of a few hours—something I still wasn’t entirely sure how my mom had managed, even with Cat and Alexa helping.
Tealight candles lined the edges of the space, their soft glow flickering against the walls.
There were small vases filled with flowers—Dani had always loved fresh-cut flowers even if she pretended otherwise—arranged in clusters across every available surface.
In the center of it all, the coffee table that was usually covered in magazines, fan mail, and whatever book she was halfway through had been cleared, replaced with a simple spread of fresh fruit, cured meat, and cheese.
Dani stopped short. “What is all this?”
The small box in my pocket felt heavy like it had it own gravity. I didn’t give myself time to overthink it. I refused to let the nerves creep in or the what-ifs start to spiral.
Dropping down onto one knee felt both surreal and completely inevitable, like my body had known this was coming long before my mind had caught up. Dani’s fingers tightened around mine in immediate response, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth.
“Reese,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I took a sharp, deep breath and pulled the ring from my pocket.
“You were my first love,” I said. “And for a long time, I thought that was all you were ever going to be. Some memory from my past that I’d use to measure everything and everyone else against without ever really expecting to find anything that came close.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes fixed on me.
“Fifteen years is a long time,” I went on. “Long enough to build whole lives. Enough time to become entirely different people than we were when we started. And I think, for a while, I was afraid that meant we’d missed our chance. That whatever we had back then couldn’t exist in the same way now.”
I paused, letting the words settle between us.
“I was wrong.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
“I don’t want what we had back then,” I said, the words coming easier now than when I’d started. “I want this—the version of us that knows how to fight for each other. That knows how to stay. The version that chooses to be together, over and over again, even when it’s hard.”
The final words sat heavy and bright on my tongue all at once.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make sure I never lose you again,” I vowed. “If you’ll let me.”
For a second, there was nothing. No sound. No movement. There was only the space between us, filled with everything we’d been and everything we could be.
“Yes,” Dani said, the word breaking free in a rush. “Yes. Of course I will. Reese—yes.”
Relief hit me so fast it almost knocked the air from my lungs. A laugh slipped out as I pushed up from the floor, my hands slightly shaking as I slid the ring onto her finger.
The ring was barely over her second knuckle when she made a small, strangled sound—something caught between a laugh and a sob. Instead of pulling me into a kiss like I expected, however, she shook her head.
“Wait—” Her voice caught. “Hang on.”
I blinked up at her, thrown just enough to lose my footing. “What?”
She was already moving, her free hand fumbling at the pocket of her jacket, her movements quick, almost frantic.
“I was—I was going to—” She huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, Reese, you couldn’t have given me like five more minutes?”
“Five more—what are you—”
She dropped down in front of me before I could finish, the motion sudden enough that I rocked back on my heels.
She settled onto one knee and produced a ring-shaped box.
“Jesus,” I quietly gasped.
“I had this whole plan,” she said, shaking her head, smiling in a slightly wrecked way. “After the press thing. I was gonna get you back here …”
“You-You were going to propose to me?”
“Yeah,” she said, softer now. “I am.”
She pried open the clamshell box to reveal the most perfect diamond engagement ring.
A laugh bubbled out of my throat. My hand flew to my mouth like it might contain it. “Are you serious right now?”
She tipped her head. “I’m on one knee, Reese. I feel like that should answer your question.”
“I just—” I shook my head, looking between us, at the two rings, at the ridiculous, perfect symmetry of it.
“I thought I lost you,” she said. “And for a long time, I told myself that was something I’d have to live with.
I’d had my shot with you, I’d blown it, and that was that.
But then you came back,” she said. “And not just back into my life—you came back willing to try again. To actually do this with me. And I didn’t—I don’t take that lightly. I never will.”
She shifted slightly on her knee, close enough now that I could see the faint tremor in her hand and the way her grip tightened around the box.
“I choose you,” she said. The words felt bigger than anything she’d said in that press conference earlier. “I choose you for all of it. The hard parts. The boring parts. The parts where we have to figure it out as we go. I’m going to keep choosing you every single day.”
The ring in her hand blurred for a second. I blinked hard, but it didn’t quite fix it.
“Reese Jessica Marlowe–will you marry me?”
For a second, I only stared.
My thoughts fell back to the girl I’d fallen in love with at eighteen—cocky and bright and impossible to ignore.
I looked at the woman in front of me now—still all of those things, but tempered by time and experience and the kind of growth you only get when you’re forced to confront the worst parts of yourself and decide to do better.
“Yes.” The word broke loose. “Absolutely, yes.”
She didn’t give me time to say anything else.
Her hands were on my face, pulling me in, her mouth finding mine in a kiss that was equal parts laughter and something deeper, something that carried the weight of every year we’d lost and every moment we’d fought to get back to each other.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both a little breathless, both a little unsteady.
Her thumb brushed lightly over my cheek. Her eyes searched my face like she was committing it to memory all over again.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” she murmured.
I smiled, leaning into her touch. “We really are.”
I let out a slow breath and glanced around the room again—at the candles still flickering, the food we hadn’t touched, the careful, intentional space my mom and Cat and Alexa had built for us.
“We should probably at least pretend to appreciate all of this before it goes to waste,” I said. “My mom is expecting pictures.”
Dani followed my gaze, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Wouldn’t wanna upset Mama Marlowe.”
She didn’t move right away. Instead, she stepped closer, her free hand settling at my waist.
“For the record,” she said, “I didn’t need any of this.”
I tilted my head slightly. “No?”
She shook her head, her eyes steady on mine. “No. All I’ve ever needed was you.”
“Good,” I said quietly. “Because you’ve got me.”
Her smile widened, just a little. “I know.”