Epilogue #2
Emery approached the microphone, her blue eyes scanning the audience until they found Eveline's. Even from a distance, Eveline could see her take a deep, steadying breath.
Then, to Eveline's complete astonishment, Emery began speaking in French.
“Merci beaucoup pour cet honneur incroyable. Je suis profondément touchée…”
Eveline's mouth fell open. Emery, her Emery who had once asked how to say “bookshelf” in French after six months together, was delivering a not-quite-flawless speech in Eveline's native language.
Behind her, Eveline heard Domi whispering a translation to the others. “She's thanking them for this incredible honor. Says she's deeply touched by the recognition.”
Emery continued, her pronunciation remarkably accurate despite the slight tremble in her voice. Eveline could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“Ce livre est très spécial pour moi, car il raconte l'histoire de deux personnes qui se trouvent quand elles ne cherchaient pas l'amour.”
“The book is special to her,” Domi murmured, “because it tells the story of two people who found each other when they weren't looking for love.”
Emery's gaze stayed locked with Eveline's as she spoke, the words flowing more confidently now.
“Je dois remercier mes amis qui m'ont soutenue dans les moments difficiles et qui sont venus ce soir pour partager ce moment avec nous.”
“She's thanking her friends who supported her through difficult times and who came tonight to share this moment,” Domi translated.
Emery gestured toward their section, and suddenly spotlights illuminated their row. Eveline felt her cheeks flush as several hundred pairs of eyes turned in their direction.
“Mais surtout,” Emery continued, her voice softening, “je dois remercier la femme qui a inspiré non seulement ce livre, mais qui m'inspire chaque jour, Eveline.”
“But most of all,” Domi whispered, “she must thank the woman who inspired not only this book, but who inspires her every day, Eveline.”
Tears blurred Eveline's vision as Emery set down her award and pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket.
“Eveline, tu te demandes peut-être pourquoi j'ai disparu si souvent ces derniers mois. J'apprenais le francais en secret. Je voulais te parler dans ta langue maternelle, pour te montrer à quel point je t'aime.”
“You might be wondering why I've been disappearing so often these past months,” Domi translated. “I was secretly learning French. I wanted to speak to you in your mother tongue, to show you how much I love you.”
Emery suddenly switched to English, her voice carrying clearly through the hall.
“But for this next part, I want to make absolutely sure you understand every word.”
She stepped away from the podium, moving to the edge of the stage, closer to Eveline.
“Eighteen months ago, I made the biggest grand gesture I could imagine to win you back. It involved rain machines, a flash mob, and a very theatrical Abe with a carriage.” Laughter rippled through the audience as Domi hastily translated for the French attendees.
“Today, I want to make another grand gesture. One that I hope will be the last one we ever need.”
Emery reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Eveline's heart stopped.
“Eveline Auclair, you taught me that real love isn't found in the pages of books, but in the small moments we share together. In morning coffee and evening walks. In reorganizing bookshelves and arguing about poetry. In honesty and forgiveness and second chances.”
Emery opened the box, revealing a vintage ring with a sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds.
“Will you marry me and let me spend the rest of my life knocking over your carefully arranged displays?”
The hall fell silent as Eveline rose to her feet, tears streaming freely down her face now. She didn't remember walking to the stage, only finding herself suddenly there, standing before Emery.
“Oui,” she whispered, then louder for the entire hall to hear. “Oui, of course I will marry you.”
As Emery slipped the ring onto her finger with trembling hands, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Behind them, Eveline could hear Maya sobbing happily and Zara's camera clicking rapidly.
But all that mattered was Emery's smile, as bright as the lights of Paris.
“TO EMERY AND Eveline!” Maya declared, raising her champagne glass high in the private dining room of the restaurant overlooking the Seine. “May your shelves always be full and your hearts even fuller!”
“To Emery and Eveline!” everyone echoed, glasses clinking in a symphony of celebration.
Eveline couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop looking at the sapphire ring catching the candlelight on her finger, couldn't stop glancing at Emery beside her, her fiancée. The word itself felt like magic.
“I still can't believe you all kept this secret,” Eveline said, looking around at their friends. “Even you, Maya. I thought you were constitutionally incapable of keeping gossip to yourself.”
Maya pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I'll have you know I am the soul of discretion when it matters. Ask anyone!”
“She practiced by baking in silence,” her wife Billy said dryly from beside her. “It was the most peaceful three months of our marriage.”
Laughter filled the room as servers brought out course after course of exquisite food. Eveline watched Emery attempt to eat escargot, nearly sending one flying across the table before mastering the technique.
“So the French lessons were your secret?” Eveline asked, linking her fingers with Emery's.
“Four months of intensive study,” Emery confirmed.
“And giving us all first-class tickets to Paris was another secret,” Jax added, lifting her glass again. “Quite the use of Abe's inheritance.”
A moment of silence fell over the table at the mention of their absent friend.
“He knew,” Emery said softly. “Before he died, I told him I wanted to propose. He insisted I use some of the money to 'do it properly.' His words.”
Eveline blinked. “Of course he did.”
Ollie cleared his throat, his arm around Jax's shoulders. “He's the one who suggested Paris, actually. Said you needed to reclaim the city with better memories.”
“To Abe,” Eveline said, raising her glass toward the empty chair at the table where a glass of whiskey stood untouched.
“To Abe,” everyone echoed.
After a moment, Zara broke the silence. “The shop's social media is absolutely exploding, by the way. I posted one picture of the proposal and we've gained three thousand followers in two hours.”
“The Turned Page, internet sensation,” Domi said with a smirk. “Who would have thought?”
“And who would have thought that you spoke such beautiful French,” Eveline said.
Domi shrugged. “With a name like Dominique, you’re surprised? My mother was French.”
“And yet you’ve never mentioned it,” said Eveline.
“You never asked,” Domi said, helping herself to more wine. “Speaking of things you’ve never asked about, my literary ears have heard rumors about your ex. Are they true?”
Eveline sighed. “His publisher dropped him, that’s all I know.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Domi said with a sniff. “Just as well you replaced him with an actually successful author.”
“Domi!” Emery said, but Eveline was laughing.
As their friends fell into easy conversation, Emery leaned closer to Eveline and took her hand. “Fancy some fresh air?”
They slipped away to the restaurant's balcony, Paris spread before them. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, a light show just beginning.
“Are you happy?” Emery asked, wrapping her arms around Eveline's waist from behind.
Eveline leaned back against her. “Happier than I ever thought possible. You've given me everything I never knew I wanted.”
“Even with all my chaos? My knocking things over and grand gestures?”
“Especially because of those things,” Eveline said, turning in Emery's arms to face her. “You taught me that life doesn't have to be orderly to be beautiful.”
Emery smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind Eveline's ear. “And you taught me that the best stories aren't always the ones we write, sometimes they're the ones we live.”
“Very poetic,” Eveline teased. “You should be a writer.”
“I'm thinking about it,” Emery laughed. “I hear there's quite the market for romance these days.”
The Eiffel Tower's lights danced in the background as they kissed beneath the Paris sky, two women who had found in each other the perfect balance between chaos and order, between fiction and reality, between hearts that were finally, completely at home.
And if a happily-ever-after existed anywhere in the world, it was right there on that balcony, between a bookseller and her novelist, writing their own perfect ending with every breath, every laugh, every kiss that was yet to come.