Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
“CAN I JUST say” —Dekker shifted the cupcake holder in one arm and tightened her scarf around her neck with the other— “I think it’s totally lame that they combined your engagement party with the squad Christmas party?”
The light from the bowling alley spilled through the glass doors, illuminating the snowflakes falling on her wild brown curls.
I laughed, holding the door open for her against the bone-chilling wind. “We don’t have much in the way of a budget, you know. Most of my friends are on the squad, or else they probably wouldn’t have combined it. And if you think it’s so lame, you can just go back home to Pennsylvania—oh, wait.”
She sent me a flat look before breezing past me. “Har, har. Haven’t heard that before.”
Only every other day since I’d come back home from the undercover assignment to find her waiting outside my building for me.
Apparently, when I’d been radio silent while undercover, she’d decided to sell her bakery and move to Detroit.
Just like that. I still didn’t know what possessed her to do something so rash, but she’d been pretty tight-lipped about it, only saying that she’d been too lonely and wanted to be closer to family.
I wasn’t going to complain. Now my best friend was my roommate until she’d move out before Colt and I got married in June. Gill-bert almost didn’t know what to do with all the attention between Dekker and Colt fawning over him. Spoiled little fish.
I sent her an unrepentant grin and took the lead as we wound our way through the bowling alley.
Pins crashed as someone got a strike, followed by a cheer from the group she’d come with.
The screens above each alley flashed and sang out their electronic tunes with each person’s turn.
The smell of cheap pizza and shoe deodorizing spray permeated the air.
It wasn’t much in the way of venues for an engagement party, but the kids at the library sang its praises. And who wouldn’t trust the glowing reviews of little humans who thought lollipops were a complete meal? Clearly, they had their priorities straight.
The crack of bowling balls against pins drowned out any chances of meaningful conversation, so I trudged along with our white elephant gifts in tow.
I didn’t care about engagement gifts so much as celebrating with my friends and coworkers, so the white elephant was a perfect party activity.
Especially since my white elephant gift was a voucher for a date with Dekker.
And no, she did not know about this.
But the poor girl woke up earlier than Colt and went to bed before the sun.
In December. She had to witness Colt and I in our engaged bliss, so it only seemed fair that I help her get her own happily ever after.
Introvert that she was, I didn’t see her going out of her way to find anyone by herself.
Sure, all of the squad as far as I knew were engaged or married, McBride excluded. But they could’ve come with a friend or sibling, or maybe they knew someone they could set up with Dekker. I stood by my decision.
Dekker and I breezed into the room, met with a variety of greetings from those who’d beaten us there. Colt had, of course, along with Isaiah and his wife, Rowan and her wife, and McBride and Hattie.
My thoughts turned to Vivienne, wherever she was. She would’ve loved to be here. I hoped she, Charles, and baby Matisse were happy.
I greeted Colt with a kiss, still unsure about our PDA around McBride.
When we’d disclosed that we’d fallen in love with each other—but hadn’t fraternized in the way he’d forbidden—I’d nearly turned into a statue from the tension.
As the newest transfer, I’d be getting the boot if one of us had to go.
Ultimately, he’d told us to disclose the relationship to HR and warned that it better not affect our work, no matter the outcome.
Apparently, he’d forbidden hooking up while we were undercover, but even he couldn’t forbid falling in love.
Since we hadn’t broken his rule, we were still in the clear.
Then, surprisingly, he’d recommended we put a ring on it pronto since it was less likely for agents who were married to each other to get transferred elsewhere.
Colt had taken his sweet time—six months of it—before doing so. By most sane people’s standards, that was an insanely short amount of time. But when you know, you know.
And I knew.
Oh , did I know.
“Jack’s recommendation was pretty solid, wasn’t it?” Colt asked, looking around the run-down room, complete with peeling painted balloons on the wall.
I took in the plastic chairs and dollar store tablecloths, the gift table, and the table laden with food.
Soft Christmas music drifted through the room from a speaker on the gift table.
McBride chatted with Hattie and Isaiah, while Isaiah’s wife talked with the other two women and Dekker set up her cupcakes.
Colt, in his starched red shirt—festive and daring, I know—stood out like a disco ball in a mud puddle.
I grinned. “I’m pretty sure the person I talked to when reserving the room thought I was certifiable or something when I mentioned that we’d be using it for a company Christmas party. For adults. On a Saturday night. But I’ve got to admit, it’s pretty perfect.”
We joined Dekker at the food table. Thankfully, she and Colt got along great. Mostly at my expense, but what can you do?
“Who all are we waiting for?” Dekker asked after McBride summoned Colt to join their conversation, eying the bottles of nonalcoholic bubbly, courtesy of Charles’ cellars.
Her eyes lit up in excitement, though she didn’t comment on the faux-secco .
She didn’t talk about it much, but I knew she didn’t drink.
Probably for the same reasons Colt didn’t.
With the help of Charles’ last will and testament gifting his dear Lamaze friends the bulk of his nonalcoholic champagne, Dekker didn’t have to miss out on anything this time.
When Charles and Vivienne Gauthier “died,” they’d willed the management of the restaurants to Gavin, with the stipulation that a portion of the profits Charles used to earn be donated to a specific charity each month.
I was pretty sure that charity was actually little Matisse’s college fund, but it wasn’t like I wanted to prove it or anything.
Aside from new recipes Gavin conveniently “finds” in a cookbook we all knew Charles never made, there hadn’t been any signs of life from the former-Gauthiers.
Rumor had it that the government had recruited him and his expertise for their own devices, but if things went well, I’d never know.
It took some time, but I’d made my peace with that.
I chuckled and passed Dekker a plastic flute.
“I know Max said he was coming, but Alec has a family party in Chicago, and you already know Annie and Kris can’t come.
So, probably just Max and his fiancée.” I gestured to the bottles of faux-secco .
“You can start pouring out glasses for everyone now, if you want. Knowing Hattie, she’ll want to start with the toasts and dramatic flair and get to the boring stuff after that. ”
Dekker’s brow wrinkled before a smile took over her face. Her voice was a tad higher pitched, like she was trying to keep a lid on her anxiety for my sake. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Weird. We’d been to much larger gatherings together, some even recently, and she usually lasted longer than this before getting overwhelmed and socially burnt out. Maybe the bowling alley was too much at once?
She handed me my own flute before I could ask her. The color drained from her face, and her eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
“ Oh, sweet onions and broccoli ,” she muttered to herself, her words rushing together as her distress increased. “No, no, nononono. He can’t be here. I can’t be here.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
I followed her gaze toward the entrance to the event space, where Max had just walked through the door. Alone. No fiancée after all. Huh.
He shook snow out of his short hair, the white powder providing a stark contrast against the black.
His brawny shoulders blocked most of the doorway and filled out his overcoat nicely, and his white Christmas sweater popped against his olive skin.
If I didn’t know him as well as I did, he’d look freakishly intimidating.
That is, until he grinned, which he did the second he caught sight of Isaiah. His face brightened immediately into the cheerful agent I knew.
“What, Max?” I asked, shaking my head and offering Dekker a reassuring smile. “He’s harmless.”
She shook her head frantically, snapping out of her catatonic state enough to hide behind me. Since she was a few inches taller than me, she had to slouch.
“Not to me. He hates me,” she hissed, risking a peek around my shoulder. “Where’s Colt when you need him? I need something tall.”
“ What ?” I asked, twisting in an attempt to look her in the face. “When did you meet Max? You’ve only been here for six months. And why does he supposedly hate you?”
I couldn’t imagine Max hating anyone. Ever. If a golden retriever could take human form, it would be Max Fuentes.
Dekker shielded her face with a hand, blocking Max’s view of her and still crouching behind me. She sent a sidelong glance toward the food table. Almost like she was considering hiding under it. “I… kinda broke his engagement and ruined his life.”
I recoiled, my brow furrowing. Of all the answers she could’ve given, nothing could’ve prepared me for that one. “What?—”
“Okay, looks like we’re all here!” Hattie’s voice projected through the room, cutting my question short. The conversations around us slowly petered out, and Colt made his way to my side.
With a strangled yelp, Dekker thrust her flute into my open hand and crawled toward the snack table faster than I’d ever seen her move in my life.
Before I could pursue and pester her for more information, Hattie continued. “Colt, Lex, we are so happy for you. But we’re also broke, so this is the best engagement party you’re going to get.” A chorus of chuckles fluttered through the room until Hattie raised her flute. “To Lex and Colt!”
Everyone mirrored the toast, and the party officially began. I searched for Dekker, only to find her in the corner wrapping her scarf over her head and putting sunglasses on. Where did she even get sunglasses? It was December. In Detroit. At night.
Unfortunately, Rowan’s wife Leah intercepted me before I could pursue my investigation. “Congratulations, girl!” She wrapped me in a hug, and I reflexively stiffened. “How did Colt propose?”
As the memory played behind my eyes, I relaxed. Now that I was out of Leah’s grip, Colt wrapped an arm around me, and I melted into him. Interrogating Dekker could wait. “Well, I’d come with him to read to kids at the library for storytime?—”
“That’s already so romantic,” she sighed, sending an affectionate look over her shoulder toward Rowan. Rowan returned it, her eyes sparkling as she made her way over to us as well.
“—like he often does,” I continued. “The book he’d picked was some mystery about a pig and a wedding?—”
“ Piggins and the Royal Wedding ,” Colt supplied, squeezing me tighter and blessing us with one of his small smiles.
“Yes, thank you, that was the book.” My smile widened.
My heart fluttered like a hummingbird from contentment.
“Anyway, so he’s reading this book to the kids and I’m just enjoying the show when this little boy who’s obsessed with Uno raises his hand.
And when Colt called on him, I would’ve bet my favorite pair of socks that he was going to ask if they could play Uno like he always does.
Instead, he says, ‘I have a question for Miss Piper,’ which obviously gets everyone’s attention. ”
A dozen or so faces had turned around to face me expectantly. Jack looked about ready to squirm out of his skin. I’d been so taken aback by the turn of events that I hadn’t noticed Colt had left his seat at the front.
“When he finally gets his question out amidst the hubbub,” I continued, warmth spreading through my veins, “he asks, ‘Miss Piper, will you marry Mister Dixon?’ And when I look up, I see Colt on one knee, holding a ring.”
“Oh, my heavens, that’s the sweetest thing ever,” Leah gushed.
And it was. It was perfect and romantic and thoughtful, just like Colt. Even the book was a nice touch, since it mentioned a wedding, and it was a mystery of sorts that brought us together in the first place. He, like always, had planned everything.
I looked up at him, the love in his eyes melting me even after six months.
There had been some growing pains after reacclimating to the real world, but we found our rhythm.
We always did. Whether it was a tension-filled back and forth or a fun-filled swing or a passionate tango, we’d been dancing around and with each other from the start.
Whatever the future held for us, I was ready, because I’d face it with him. My forever dance partner.
“It’s my new favorite memory,” I admitted quietly. And it would probably keep its first-place status until June eighteenth when I met him at the end of the aisle.
“Mine, too.” Colt kissed my temple, a million unspoken words written in the curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eyes. “Second only to the day a thunderstorm rolled into the office, covered in coffee and ready to change my life forever.”
“We’re never going to forget that, are we?” I laughed. At least he didn’t bring up any of the disasters since then, like pulling me out of a window. I knew for a fact that was a solid four on his list of favorites, much to my chagrin.
“And risk forgetting the best thing to ever happen to me?” He pulled me closer. His familiar, spicy scent enveloped me, reminding me just how much he’d become my home. “ Never .”