Chapter 22
chapter twenty-two
The line of caps and gowns inches forward, and I shift from foot to foot, my stomach doing acrobatic flips. I look up the line, catching sight of Alec. His posture is a statue of composure, his square jaw set in that familiar confident line. But I can see it—the slight twitch in his leg, the way his fingers tap against the satin fabric of his graduation robe. Even Mr. Moneybags Vanderholt isn't immune to the gravity of this moment.
Fuck. I hate that I can’t stand right next to him right now. Curse the fact that somehow, there are two other V last names, and three other W names that alphabetically come between us.
The auditorium echoes with the hum of proud chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional shrill whistle. Families cram the seats, their faces beaming as they watch their kids and siblings and friends accomplish their dreams. And they all have their phones out, waiting to immortalize the moment their now grown kids shuffle across the stage. My eyes scan the crowd, searching for my mother and Danny. And there they are, about a third of the way up, right in the center. They showed up really early to get those seats.
My eyes scan the crowd again, but I see no traces of William Vanderholt.
Fuck. Him.
The line shuffles forward, and my heart starts pounding as Alec cues up.
He rises, that same cocky swagger in his step that he carries everywhere. It's as if the stage is his birthright, the spotlight something he absorbed with the silver spoon from which he was fed. His name resounds, echoing off the walls, and for a moment, I see the boy beneath the bravado, the weight of expectation pressing down on his broad shoulders.
"Make it look good, Vanderholt!" I call out, loud enough for him to hear above the clapping. A taunt, but also... something else. A recognition of the battle we both fight to be seen for who we are, not just what our last names say about us.
"Watch and learn, Winters." He flashes a smirk before he steps fully into view. Even if his dad isn’t here, there is a cacophony of chaos as everyone cheers and calls out to him. And none scream and cheer louder than I do. I watch as mom practically loses her mind, cheering and waving to him.
They only met for the first time last night. But Alec had her wrapped around his little finger within minutes.
Hazards of being so fucking charming.
Alec reaches the dean, shaking his hand, his grip firm. There's no falter in his movement, no sign that he's anything but untouchable. Yet, I know better. I see the subtle scan of the crowd, the search for an approval that isn't there, the father who couldn't be bothered to show up.
"Congratulations, Mr. Vanderholt," the dean intones, handing him the diploma.
"Thanks, but it's just Alec," he corrects, the veneer cracking just a fraction, and there's that stubborn pride that makes him more than just another rich kid.
But still, he turns to the crowd and waves, and we all lose our minds again.
I smile wildly as I watch Alec walk off the stage and the next name is called. Whoever is standing in front of me makes a smart remark at my enthusiasm, but I don’t care.
I’m so damn proud of him.
The line grows shorter, and finally, I wait behind the curtain for my turn.
I’ve worked so damn hard for this. Studying for hours instead of partying. Taking extra courses. Jumping into every extracurricular I could just to make my transcript as polished as possible. Growing up, there was never enough of anything but love. I appreciated every hour my mother worked to provide for us. But I swore I would never struggle so hard. And now I won’t. I’m the first in my family to get to this place.
“Salem Winters,” my name booms over the speaker.
I stride across the stage, every step pulsating with the beat of my racing heart. My hand clenches, unclenches. The amount of cheers I receive as opposed to Alec is minimal. My mom and stepdad. My few friends. And fuck, Alec has pretty much lost his mind over there. But it’s everything that matters. I beam as I cross the stage.
The dean’s waiting, my awards in one hand, my diploma in the other, that practiced, plasticky smile plastered on his face. But the weight of the paper he hands me is real, dense with the grind of years spent buried in books while others slept.
"Congratulations," he murmurs, but it sounds like victory.
"Thank you," I shoot back, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside me—a tempest of pride, relief, defiance. I've earned this, every fucking letter of my name inked onto that certificate.
I hold it high in the air, shaking my hips for a second. The flash of cameras is satisfying, knowing this moment will be captured forever. And then I make my exit.
Alec is waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. And the grin on his face could cure the world of depression for forever. He wraps his arms around my waist.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Salem,” he beams, right before he kisses the life out of me.
We stand together, as the last four students get their two seconds to shine. And finally, the last name is called, the last degree handed out. The dean shares a few closing words, and it’s finally done.
I’m fucking done with college.
Around us, the air buzzes with chatter and the snap of camera shutters. And just a few moments later, a squeal sounds through the air.
“Congratulations, Salem!" Mom engulfs me in a hug that threatens to choke the life out of me. Danny’s right behind her, a warm smile plastered on his face.
"We’re so proud,” he says humbly. We’re still getting to know each other. But the fact that he’s here means a lot.
"You should be,” Alec say. “She gave me a fucking run for my money.”
“Language, Alec,” Mom scolds. “But thank you.”
“Sorry, Heather,” Alec chuckles. He hasn’t had to filter himself around anyone in… maybe ever. But Mom never was one to tolerate a potty mouth.
The buzz of my phone against the silk of my graduation gown startles me. I slide it from the pocket, hidden beneath layers of academic regalia, and my thumb hesitates over the notification—a moment's pause before the inevitable swipe.
"You good?" Alec's voice cuts through the hum of celebration, his eyes curious—hawk-like, never missing anything.
"Uh, yeah, one sec." My focus narrows to the glow of the device in my hand. It’s an email alert. The sender's name sets my pulse racing.
I tap the message open, eyes darting across words that build a crescendo inside me. Offer. Position. Pay. Benefits. Congratulations. The letters blur into a symphony of 'fucking finally.'
"Holy shit," escapes my lips before I can reel it back, an instinctive reverence for what this means.
Alec quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. "Well, that's either catastrophic or brilliant. With you, it's a coin toss."
"Brilliant," I confirm, breathless with a joy that's almost vicious in its intensity. "We’re locked in, Alec. The job in Italy. They want me to move over next week!"
"Let’s go!” he cheers as he rushes forward and wraps me in his arms. He picks me right off the ground, spinning us around.
After all the hard. After all the work. After all the struggle. It all works out in the end. You chase your dream, eventually you’ll catch it.
Life is pretty damn good.
The evening breeze brushes against my skin, a soothing caress after the day's scorching sun. Walking back to our tiny dorm, Alec's hand envelops mine. Graduation's buzz still resonates within me, a blend of excitement and a deeper sense of accomplishment. "Did you ever think we'd get here?" I speak softly, almost drowned out by the shuffle of our steps on the pavement.
"Hell no," Alec chuckles. "I thought you'd off me in my sleep before sophomore year was up."
"Still an option," I retort playfully, but I hold onto him tighter, grounding myself in his presence. Our building looms closer, its brick exterior a silent witness to our shared struggles and passions—hours spent studying or entangled in heated arguments and tender embraces.
“Hey, we should go watch the sunset,” Alec suggests when we dump our graduation robes on the bed.
“That sounds amazing,” I say, excited at the suggestion. It feels like forever since we had two seconds to do something as simple as watch the sunset.
Alec guides us to the stairs that lead up and onto the roof. The town sprawls beneath us like a tapestry of lights and darkness. Leaning against the ledge, Alec steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Look at this view," I comment as he rests his chin on my shoulder.
"I can't. Too busy looking at you," Alec says.
"You're quite the smooth talker."
"Only when it comes to you." His words ring true; with him, pretenses fall away effortlessly. "Remember when you couldn't stand me?" There's a playful edge to his voice masking an underlying question.
“Because you were such a rich asshole?” I point out.
“Like you weren’t prejudiced,” he calls me right out.
I smirk and shake my head. He isn’t wrong. I judged Alec for years without speaking more than a few words to him.
My gaze fixes on the horizon. It’s like a painting. The sky is stained a dramatic display of golds and reds. The warm breeze is just right. It’s the perfect night. I’m not sure if it’s an ending or beginning. But I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
“Thank you,” Alec says softly, all seriousness returning.
“For what?” I ask, leaning back into him more deeply.
“For seeing me. For letting me be all of me. For loving me still.”
The words are so raw. So honest. I reach a hand up, cradling the side of his face. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Alec shifts, and I feel him take something from his pocket. My eyes glance down when he holds something up, and then my heart explodes into a thousand little butterflies.
“Marry me?”
He holds a black box with a diamond ring set in the center of it. It’s easily the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. And perfect. Not obnoxiously huge, Vanderholt style, but large enough to tell the world I am claimed.
The ring glints between us, a tangible promise, and my breath catches. "Holy shit, Alec. Is this for real?" I twist in his arms, needing to see it in his eyes.
"Damn right it is." His grin is all confidence, but there's a tremor in his hand that tells me he's just as wrecked by this moment as I am. And slowly, he sinks down on one knee, holding that ring box in front of him. “What do you think, Salem? Will you marry me?”
“Holy shit, yes!” I throw my arms around him, the ring box getting crushed between our bodies. "Yes," I breathe out against his neck, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep within me. The word feels like a key unlocking something vast and thrilling. "Yes, I'll marry you."
His laugh rumbles through me, strong arms pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. He smells like summer and success, a scent I've come to crave more than air.
"Good, because I wasn't planning on taking no for an answer."
"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Vanderholt." My words are muffled against his shirt, but I know he hears the affection laced through them.
We stand wrapped in each other, the sounds of the city a distant hum compared to the symphony of our racing hearts. It's chaotic and perfect, and I can't help the laugh that escapes me. It's a sound full of life, of a future filled with late-night debates, lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, and battles fought side by side.
I release Alec, and he plucks the ring from its box. And holding my gaze the whole time, he slides it onto my finger. It’s the perfect fit.
“We really did it,” I breathe out as he rises to his feet, bringing both hands to either side of my face. “Didn’t we?”
"Us? We can do anything." Alec's certainty wraps around me like a vow, stronger than any spoken oath.
"Even put up with your snoring?" I tease, tipping my chin up defiantly.
"Hey, I do not?—"
"Sure, sure." I cut him off with a quick kiss, stealing his indignation and turning it into something softer, sweeter. "But you're right. We're fucking unstoppable."
As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, a sense of hope swells within me. We step forward together, leaving behind the shards of who we were, ready to leap into the boundless unknown of who we'll become.
"What do you think about me becoming the future Mr. Winters?” His words are hesitant when he says them. Alec is always confident, always cocky. But not now. Not at this request.
My eyes rip to his, and I’m suddenly humbled. “You mean that?” I ask.
Alec nods, and I knew he meant the words before he confirmed. He’d said it to me once, when he told me he was cutting himself off from his father, that he’d get rid of the name Vanderholt if he could.
And now he can.
By taking mine.
“Alec Winters,” I say the name, testing it out. “I kind of love it.”
“Good, because I’m kind of attached to the idea of it,” he says as he wraps his arms around me once more.
“You know the PR side of it is going to be a nightmare, right?” I can’t help but tease him. It’s what we do. “I mean, the press is going to lose its fucking mind over Alec Vanderholt changing his last name.”
“Just shut up and kiss me, fiancée ,” he says with a grin, effectively shutting me up by taking my mouth with his own.
Dammit. He’s way too good at that.
THE END