Epilogue
Nicole
One year later…
“Ugh, I swear, he’s just out to tear my arm from my body,” I mutter as Cocoa takes an enthusiastic detour into a row of potted plants along the sidewalk leading to the beach.
Dom laughs, then reaches down with his massive hand and scoops him up as he untangles the leash. “I think we’ve come to the conclusion he’s built for speed, not obedience,” he observes, and even though I know he’s talking about the dog, he squeezes my hand right after.
It’s just our usual evening walk, but still, something about the whole thing feels off. Dom keeps fiddling with the cuff of his hoodie or jamming his hand into his pocket, checking something and then putting it right back.
Honestly, I really want to call him out, but I also don’t. I like the suspense. It gives the evening a little buzz, like waiting for the plot twist you already kind of guessed was coming.
And I seriously hope it’s a good one.
Together, we cross the street and hit the pedestrian ramp down to the beach. The sand, cold and soft, immediately invades my sandals.
“Remind me again why we don’t just live at the beach?” I ask, wiggling my toes with each step.
“Because then you’d have to wash Cocoa every day,” Dom deadpans as he sets our fur child down to run once more. As he does, I note the way he grips his hoodie pocket…
“You good?” I nudge him with my shoulder.
He blinks, startled, and then does this half-smile that makes his left dimple pop. “Yeah. It’s just … a good day. Kind of hard to believe, honestly.”
I nod, feeling the exact same. “Want to talk about it? Or do I need to wait for a Dominic Neelson combustion of emotion?”
“Let’s walk.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
I nod, but as we keep walking, Dom does that thing again—shoving his hand into his pocket, fingering whatever is inside, and then taking his hand out like nothing happened.
Ugh. I can’t take it anymore.
“What is in your pocket?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at him. “Are you hiding snacks?”
He freezes, then shoots me a sheepish look. “Not snacks. Sorry.”
I keep the intensity. “Is it … a weapon? Do you think we’re going to get mugged or something? I need to know.”
“No.” He shakes his head and then clears his throat, changing the subject. “What’s your week look like? You have that meeting with the architect, right?”
“Tomorrow,” I say, rolling my eyes. “He keeps calling me ‘Ms. Farrarah’ in emails, and every time I ask him to use Nicole, he doubles down and says, ‘Ms. Nicole.’”
Dom snorts. “Maybe you should respond with, ‘Dear Mr. Architect.’”
“Tempting,” I admit. “But I’m worried he might actually like it.”
Dom grins. “Sounds rough.”
“It’s exhausting. But I think he’s the only one in the city who gets my vision.”
“I get your vision,” Dom says quietly. “I always have.”
“Thanks,” I say, exhaling.
We reach the halfway point between the parking lot and the tide pools, and the sun is almost gone, leaving the sky a saturated ombre of gold and purple.
Dom clears his throat, and the sound makes me jump. “You wanna take a break?” he asks, already flopping down on the sand and patting the spot next to him.
I sit, knees up, picking at the frayed hem of my jeans. For a while, we just stare at the ocean. Well, Dom does. I admire his profile, the way the light catches the edge of his jaw, the hint of stubble he didn’t bother to shave.
He glances over, giving me this little nervous smile. I see right through it.
“Okay, what is it?” I say, poking his leg with my toe. “Tell me what’s up.”
He laughs, then shakes his head, which is his thing tonight, apparently. “I’m being weird, aren’t I?”
“I mean… I don’t want to be rude, but, yeah.” I grin at him. “A little.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t know. I had a plan for this conversation, and now my brain’s gone all scrambled.”
“Just say it,” I urge him. “I promise I won’t judge. If you don’t want to live across the hall from me anymore, then just say it.” I give him a playful grin, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, his eyes shift to the ocean.
“Do you ever think about the future?”
I blink. “Like, in a general sense?”
“I mean about us.” He meets my gaze this time. “Me and you.”
My heart does a weird leap. “I do. But I don’t want to scare you off. You might run for the hills.”
Dom shakes his head. “Nothing could scare me off, Nic.”
My chest is tight, but not in a bad way.
“I want to see where this goes,” he continues. “I know you have your life and your business and your dog, but—”
“My dog?” I interrupt, genuinely amused.
He grins. “Our dog, sorry. I’m just saying, I like this. I like us. No, I love us.”
I can’t help it. I lean over and kiss him, a quick, soft peck. “I love us, too.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, warm and heavy and protective. “Good,” he says. “Then I’m not crazy.”
“Not for that, at least,” I tease, and he squeezes my arm.
Dom scratches behind Cocoa’s ears and then, out of nowhere, stands up, leaving me sitting. “Let’s walk a little further,” he says, tugging me to my feet.
I brush off the sand, and as I do, I realize that Dom’s not holding Cocoa’s leash. “Oh no,” I mutter under my breath, leaning over to grab it before…
Too late.
Cocoa bolts, a brown blur hurtling into the gloom.
“Ugh!” I throw my hands into the air. “Cocoa!” I call after him.
But Dom just shrugs. “He can’t have gone far.”
“Are you serious?” I start running after Cocoa and Dom lopes beside me, not even out of breath. “Dom, this isn’t funny! What if he eats something dead? What if a coyote—”
“He’s fine,” he says, and I can tell he’s holding back a laugh.
We chase Cocoa down the beach for a solid minute before we catch up. He’s stopped at some sort of pile of something, and I take advantage of the moment, dropping to my knees and grabbing the leash.
My heart is pounding, but as soon as I make contact, Cocoa slathers my face in kisses. I’m annoyed and relieved all at once.
Except…
“What is this?” I stare at the pile of … dog treats.
I whip my head around just as Dom catches up. He’s got a strange new smile, like he’s trying really hard not to let on that this was all his idea.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You did that on purpose?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
I stare at him, hands on my hips as I stand up, holding the leash. “Is this your way of telling me you want a workout partner?”
He shakes his head. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?” I press, feeling more confused than ever.
He just stands there, mysterious, the corners of his mouth fighting a losing battle against a smile.
“Dom…” I hiss. But then I see it. Just beyond the little mound of dog treats, scattered across the sand, are rose petals.
Not just a few, either, but a whole winding trail of them, the red vivid against the pale shore, the wind carrying them so that some spiral and tumble toward the foamy edge of the tide.
I blink, once, twice, three times.
“You—you did this?” I ask, voice cracking.
He gives a one-shoulder shrug, bashful and proud all at once. “Maybe.”
Cocoa immediately tries to eat one, of course.
I follow the trail. Every few steps, there’s a little cluster of treats, so Cocoa gets to be part of the party. When I reach the end, where the sand is a little damp and the shells are bigger, there it is—a question, spelled out in rocks, spanning at least ten feet in the sand.
Will you marry me?
I stop. I actually freeze, like in a cartoon, with my hand halfway out and my mouth open and my brain short-circuiting. Cocoa is still trying to eat the petals, and I’m just blinking.
“Nicole,” he starts, “you turned my world upside down from the moment we met.”
I’m unable to do anything but nod.
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I came to LA looking for a team, but I found a home. With you. You made everything here make sense. Even when it doesn’t make any sense at all.
” He digs into his pocket and retrieves a small velvet ring box.
He flips it open, revealing a beautiful pear-shaped rose-gold engagement ring.
And I’m already crying, tears streaming down my face.
“Nicole Michelle Farrarah,” he says, as his own eyes grow moist. “Will you marry—”
“Of course,” I blurt, before he even gets the question out all the way. “Yes, I will!”
He stands up, sliding the ring onto my finger, his hands shaking even harder than before. The instant it’s on, I launch myself at him, arms around his neck, and he catches me, holding me so tight I don’t think I’ll ever need another coat.
This is everything I could’ve ever wanted.
And so, so much more.