Epilogue
Vance
I woke before dawn, as always.
Instead of reaching for my phone, I lay still, listening to Tobias breathe beside me and feeling the warmth of him pressed against my side.
Months since he stumbled into my life. Months of learning how to share space, how to be vulnerable, how to stay.
The apartment felt different now. His reading glasses on the nightstand. Books on shelves that weren't mine. A plant in the corner that was somehow still alive. Blueprints rolled up by the door, ready for his next site visit. Evidence of someone who stayed.
Tobias stirred. "Too early."
"You have a site visit."
"Don't care." He burrowed into my shoulder. "Warm here."
I let myself enjoy this moment. The quiet. The certainty of him beside me.
"Hey." He propped himself up, studying my face. "You're brooding. Talk to me."
"I was thinking about how different this place is now." I looked around the apartment. "It used to be just somewhere to sleep. Four walls. Now it's..."
"Home?"
The word hit harder than it should have.
"Yeah." My voice came out rough. "Home."
He waited. He'd learned to do that. Give me space to find the words. Patient in a way no one had ever been with me before.
"You did that," I said. "Made it feel like something. Made me feel like something."
He leaned down and kissed me softly. "You were always something. You just didn't believe it."
We stayed tangled together until the morning light grew too bright to ignore, until his site visit became impossible to postpone.
"The cottage project is almost done," he said, pulling on his shirt. "Ronan wants to do a walkthrough next week. You should come."
"To a walkthrough?"
"To see what I've been working on. To see what you helped make possible." He paused, something vulnerable in his expression. "I want you there."
"Then I'll be there."
He smiled and kissed me one more time at the door, then twice more, and once more because the third one "didn't count."
The apartment was quiet after he left.
I made coffee and stood at the window, looking out at the Hudson Valley morning. The same view I'd stared at for years without really seeing it. Now it felt different. Everything felt different.
Two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Two sets of keys by the door. His blueprints on the table, his books on the shelves, his ridiculous throw pillows on the couch. Two lives tangled together so thoroughly that I couldn't remember what it felt like to be alone.
I didn't want to remember.
My phone buzzed. A text from Tobias.
Made it to the site. Investors loved the design.
I typed back: Told you.
Show-off.
Accurate.
A pause. Then: Come home when you're done.
I always do.
I had the afternoon shift, so I drove to the Grandview around noon.
The hotel was quiet, that lull between checkout and late arrivals when the staff could catch their breath. I did my usual rounds, checked in with the team, and reviewed the security logs from last night.
Nothing unusual. A minor noise complaint on the third floor. A lost-and-found jacket that turned out to belong to one of the housekeeping staff. The ordinary rhythm of a place that ran like clockwork.
I ended up at the Valley Bar around two.
Reid Morrow was behind the counter, restocking glasses. He looked... off. Distracted. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there last week, and his usual easy smile was missing.
"Hey." I slid onto a stool. "Slow day?"
"Slow week." He set down a stack of highball glasses. "What can I get you?"
"Just water. I'm on duty."
He filled a glass and pushed it across the bar, going back to his restocking without the usual banter.
I'd known Reid for two years. He was good at his job. Charming, professional, the kind of bartender who made guests feel like they were his only customer. He flirted with everyone and meant nothing by it. Easy smile, easier laugh, never seemed to take anything seriously.
Right now, he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Thanks. That's exactly what a guy wants to hear."
I waited.
Reid sighed and stopped pretending to organize the bottles. "It's nothing. Just... personal stuff. It'll sort itself out."
"You need to talk about it?"
"No offense, but you're not exactly the sharing-feelings type."
"I'm learning."
That earned a flicker of a smile. "Yeah, I noticed. You seem... different lately. Lighter."
"That's one way to put it."
Reid leaned against the bar, arms crossed. For a moment, he seemed ready to say something genuine, not the usual deflection. But then he shook his head.
"There's an event next weekend," he said instead. "Some charity gala. Big donors, fancy people. The usual."
"I saw the memo."
"One of the guests..." He trailed off and shook his head again. "Never mind. It's nothing."
It wasn't nothing. I could see that clearly. But I also knew pushing wouldn't help. Not with Reid, who wore his charm like a shield and kept everything real locked away.
"If you need to talk," I said, "you know where to find me."
"Since when are you the hotel therapist?"
"Since I learned that keeping everything inside doesn't work."
Reid studied me for a long moment.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said quietly.
I finished my water, stood up, and left him to his restocking, his ghosts, whatever was eating at him. Some things you had to work through yourself. Some things took time.
But I made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Something was coming. I could feel it.
Reid Morrow was heading for something. I just hoped he'd be ready when it hit.
Tobias was already home when I got back that evening.
Blueprints spread across the table, soft music playing, the smell of something good on the stove. He'd changed into one of my old t-shirts, the Army one, faded and soft from years of washing. It looked better on him than it ever had on me.
He looked up when I walked in and smiled.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around him from behind, chin on his shoulder.
"Good day?" he asked.
"Better now."
He leaned back into me. We stood there for a moment, just breathing together. The ordinary intimacy of a shared life.
"Dinner's almost ready," he said eventually. "Nothing fancy. Just pasta."
"Your pasta is always fancy."
"It has fresh herbs. That doesn't make it fancy."
"Fresh herbs are fancy."
He laughed and turned in my arms to face me. "You're impossible."
"You love me anyway."
"I do." He kissed me softly. "I really do."
I looked around the apartment. Our apartment. The blueprints, the books, and the ridiculous throw pillows. The plant in the corner and the two sets of keys by the door. The life we'd built together, piece by piece, day by day.
It wasn't perfect. Nothing ever is.
But it was ours.
And that was everything.
THE END