Epilogue
Callum
It’s been a year since we shared that fateful kiss on her doorstep.
And a few months ago, Millie finally moved in, to Fergie’s—and my—utmost pleasure.
Her arrival had a positive impact on my sleeping habits for two reasons: first, it’s a lot more reassuring to have her next to me.
And second, Fergie has retired his fire alarm clock.
He still uses it once in a while, mostly when Millie is cooking, since she tends to scorch our meals a bit. Her dad did warn me about that.
“Hey.” She hops downstairs, her hair still damp, curling slightly at the ends. “You’re good to go already? Are we leaving early?”
“Nope.” I give her a quick kiss on the forehead, but she wraps her arms around my waist to draw me close.
I slide my hands from her shoulders to caress her cheeks, gazing into her eyes.
My lips almost twitch into a smile, and I do my best to contain it.
I can’t give her any clues about what’s happening today.
So instead, I kiss her slowly, deeply, lingering just long enough to make her sigh.
“I just had a couple of things to take care of,” I add when we break the embrace.
Or rather, some very special social media posts to make.
I’ve gotten good at it now, especially when it comes to slideshows and videos, like the one I made for Princess.
Unfortunately, while my post did drum up a lot of attention, it didn’t help in finding her a permanent home.
However, it did inspire other athletes like Trevor Chapman, the baseball player or Talon Everhart, the swimmer, to do the same, which eventually paid off.
We sit down to breakfast at the kitchen island, and even if I can’t wait for tonight, I savour every second we spend together. It’s crazy how much better everything is thanks to Millie. And I’m not just talking about my social media presence.
“Penny for your thoughts?” She leans over her cup of tea, her blue eyes searching mine.
“Just thinking about how amazing you are, that’s all.” I wink, and she shakes her head, but her smile gives her away. “What? It’s true.” From the corner of my eye, I notice a cupboard ajar. “Did you give Fergie extra snacks last night?”
She freezes, then looks at me. “No.”
I tilt my head. “Millie? You didn’t close the cupboard door.”
She glimpses the evidence in question and winces. “Darn it.”
“You can’t let him walk all over you like that,” I say with a sigh. “He will be an insufferable brat if we give in to his every demand. You know that.”
“I know, but he’s so cute. It’s so hard to resist.”
I laugh. “Well, it’s also hard to resist kissing you every time we cross paths at work, but I manage. If I can achieve that level of self-control, surely you can too.”
“It’s that hard, huh? I don’t have that problem.” She feigns looking away, struggling to hide her smirk.
“Really?” I set down my cup and walk around the counter, closing the distance between us. “You don’t struggle with the no-kissing-at-work rule?” I murmur into her ear.
“No,” she fights out through bursts of giggles. “I really don’t. Fergie, however, is a lot harder to resist.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing and hold her gaze. “What if I was wearing my kilt?”
Her eyes widen for half a second, then she shakes her head. “That would indeed change things, but you would never wear it to work. How many times have I asked? There’s no way you’ll let the guys see you in your kilt.”
I flinch. “They would tease me until the end of time.”
“Exactly.” She pivots on the stool, then plants a sweet kiss on my lips. “So, I can’t exactly practice my self-control now, can I?”
I laugh as she stows her plate in the washer and goes upstairs to get ready. Now, more than ever, I cannot wait for tonight.
My phone pings as we cross the parking lot to the training centre, and I glance at it with a sigh. It’s a new message notification from the group chat—“Regents After Dark.” Yeah, that’s really the name they chose.
Archie: Today’s the big day, Softy Callum. You ready?
Finn: Probably not.
Archie: Oh, come on. He’ll do great.
Finn: All pro-love now, are you?
Cameron: Yeah, that’s weird. Are you sure your lady didn’t put a spell on you, man? You did hate her for so long.
Finn: At least now we don’t have to whisper in his flat.
Archie: You guys are just jealous.
Callum: Ugh. I should have never let you guys in on this.
Cameron: Don’t worry. We’ve got you.
Finn: But we’re not responsible if she says no, mate.
Callum: **hand gesture emoji**
Archie: Not nice to the blokes supporting you in this.
Callum: Help doesn’t equal support.
Wade: He’s got a point. Stop being brats, and let’s help Callum get his girl.
Callum: Thanks, Cap.
Finn: Yahoo! Only a few hours to go.
I sigh and lock my phone, sliding it into my jacket pocket as we stroll up to the side entrance. My nerves are catching up with me, crawling just under my skin.
“It’s all your fault, you know that?” I mutter, nudging Millie with my elbow.
“What is?” She adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her eyes flicking toward me with curiosity.
“The group chat thing. You forced me into joining, and now I’m stuck with those annoying chatterboxes twenty-four-seven.”
She chuckles, the sound light—and a little smug. “I did not force you. I said it could be fun. And you’re free to leave any time.”
I roll my eyes. She’s got a point, but now that I’m seeing what they talk about in there, I feel like I should stick around. Just in case. And it was useful for planning everything for tonight. So, yeah, I’m on the fence about it.
Let’s just hope this works.
Millie
The Regents won 3–1, and Callum was particularly on fire. He made some brilliant tackles and even scored a goal. I’ve never seen so many fans wearing his jersey, and I’m convinced it has something to do with me—or at least Fergie. But don’t tell Callum I said that.
Fallon, Roxy, and Katherine—Archie’s neighbour-turned-girlfriend—have been acting weird all night.
Even more so since the game ended. We usually bolt right out of the stadium to meet up at Archie’s—or go home to her baby in the case of Roxy—but they’ve been lingering in the stands, grabbing drinks from the VIP bar and being very cryptic about it.
“What’s going on?” I ask again, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Can we go?”
“Not quite,” Roxy says, sitting back down and giving me an overly innocent look. “Maybe you should check your socials.”
“What? Can’t we do that later?” I ask, starting to get exasperated. I just want to get out of here and find Callum.
“Just do it,” Katherine says with a wink, nudging my arm.
I reluctantly grab my phone, my brown knitting when I see a notification.
“Callum Murray tagged you in a post.”
Curious, I open it, and my heart skips two beats.
It’s a video—a slideshow, like the one we did for Princess. The first picture is a photo of me laughing, mid-snort, the kind of picture only Callum would choose.
“This is Millie,” the caption says.
Realizing he’s probably talking, I turn up the volume and sit down quickly, trying to isolate myself from the noise.
The next image is a childhood photo of me—face and hands covered in melting ice cream, eyes squinting with glee.
“She’s always been curious, clever, and a tad stubborn.”
Next comes a selfie of Callum and me, his head tipped toward mine. My smile is so wide it stretches my cheeks.
“She’s the light of my life.”
A picture of me with Fergie perched on my shoulder fills the screen.
“Even Fergie fell for her,” Callum says, and a cartoon-style speech bubble pops up above Fergie’s head: “Millie pretty!”
I let out a shaky laugh, hand flying to my chest.
The next photo is a cosy, warm selfie of us on the couch, our legs tangled under a blanket.
“But no one could fall for her as hard as I did.” His voice wavers just enough to make my breath catch. “She helps me see life through her eyes and teaches me about love every single day.”
The image fades, replaced by another. This one makes my entire body go still.
Callum, in his kilt, standing on the pitch with a ring box in his hands.
“Millie, I love you. With everything I am. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you’ll let me, I’ll work to be worthy of you for the rest of my life.”
My heart is racing now, pulsing behind my ribs like it’s trying to escape. My fingers tremble as I clutch the phone tighter.
The final slide appears. A simple white screen.
“Will you marry me?”
I stare at my phone, stunned. My brain can’t catch up to what my ears are hearing.
I shake my head in disbelief, glancing up from my phone.
“Look at the pitch,” Roxy murmurs, her eyes gleaming.
I whip my head toward the field, and there he is—Callum, one knee on the grass, holding a ring box just like in the photo. His silhouette is sharp against the floodlights, his kilt fluttering slightly in the breeze.
I scan the faces of the girls, my whole body shaking. Fallon smiles and nods.
“This way,” she says, offering her hand.
That’s when I realise they’ve orchestrated all of this together. The slideshow, the timing, the delay. I can’t believe Callum went through all this work for me—crafting the social media posts, coordinating with the girls, standing in his kilt in the middle of a stadium.
My heart is bursting, filled with love for this incredible man.
We walk out toward the pitch, and I notice Finn, Archie, Wade, and Cameron standing on the sidelines, applauding as I cross the turf. My breath comes fast and shallow. Callum is still on one knee, not moving, not blinking. Just waiting.
When I finally stop in front of him, he opens the box.
“Will you marry me, Millie?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
His glassy eyes are shimmering under the floodlights, and as I stand there, my heart soars so high, it might burst out of my chest. “Really hoping for a loss of self-control right about now,” he says with a grin.
Fighting through giggles and tears, I throw myself into his waiting arms. “Of course I’ll marry you. I love you, Callum.”
He wraps his arms around me tightly. “Not as much as I love you,” he says in my ear, his voice breaking with joy.
I pull back and frame his face in my hands. “That’s impossible.”
“Always so stubborn,” he says with a grin, rolling his eyes playfully. Then, he caresses my cheek, and his lips meet mine.
It’s a slow, deep kiss. The kind that anchors you to the moment as all your worries melt away.
His lips brush over mine like a vow, warm and certain, a soft collision of breath and promise.
One hand cups the back of my neck, the other still holding the ring box, all but forgotten.