Epilogue
. . .
Brandon
The Grimaldi family Fourth of July party in the Hamptons is in full swing, and I'm watching Stella charm my entire extended family like she was born to it.
She's sitting on the deck with my grandmother, listening intently to stories about the old neighborhood in Brooklyn, while my youngest nephew shows her his collection of seashells.
Nina appears at my elbow with two beers. “She's perfect for you. I haven't seen you this happy since…well, ever.”
“She is pretty amazing,” I agree, accepting the drink gratefully.
The ring box in my pocket feels like it weighs ten pounds, and I've been fighting nerves all afternoon.
“You nervous about tonight?”
“Terrified,” I admit. “What if she says no?”
Nina gives me a look that suggests I might be the dumbest person alive. “Brandon, that woman looks at you like you hung the moon. She's not going to say no.”
“Easy for you to say. You're not about to propose to the most incredible woman on the planet.”
“Trust me, any woman who moves across the country to go to college and then stays to build her own career isn't going to walk away from love when she finds it.”
Nina gives me one more encouraging smile before heading back to the party.
A few minutes later, Stella approaches with her phone in hand, looking puzzled.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Just Natalie. She's heading to Jake's Fourth of July party.” She pauses, looking confused. “Which is weird because I didn't know they were that close. Since when does Natalie hang out with Jake?”
I file that information away as interesting but not immediately relevant. “Maybe they bonded over being the only single people in our friend group?”
“Maybe,” she says, but she still looks confused.
The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. Perfect timing.
“Want to take a walk on the beach?” I suggest casually. “The fireworks should start soon, and the view is better down there.”
“That sounds perfect.”
We make our way down the wooden stairs to the private beach, hand in hand. The sand is cool under our feet, and the lapping of the waves provides the perfect backdrop. In the distance, I can hear my family's laughter drifting from the deck above.
“This has been incredible,” Stella says, stopping to face the water. “Your family is wonderful. I can see where you get your charm.”
“They love you. My mother hasn't stopped talking about how smart and beautiful you are.”
“She's been showing me photos of you as a baby. You were adorable.”
“Were?”
She laughs and bumps my shoulder with hers. “Still are.”
The first firework explodes overhead, casting colorful light across the water.
It's time.
“Stella,” I say, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Mmm?” She's still watching the sky, mesmerized by the display.
I drop to one knee in the sand behind her.
“Turn around.”
She does, and her hands immediately fly to her mouth when she sees me kneeling there with the ring box open.
“Brandon,” she breathes.
“Before you panic, I know I only asked you to move in with me like a week ago. And this isn't me asking you to be my wife so I can take care of you. This is me asking you to be my partner so we can take care of each other.”
Tears are already streaming down her face, but she's smiling.
“I want to spend my life with someone who challenges me and builds empires and never, ever makes herself smaller for anyone.” My voice grows softer as another firework lights up her face. “I want to marry you, Stella. Not because you need me, but because I can't imagine my life without you in it.”
“Me either,” she whispers, then louder, “I’m getting married!”
I slip the ring onto her finger with shaking hands, then stand to pull her into a kiss. Around us, fireworks continue to explode in brilliant colors, but all I can see is her.
“I love you,” she says against my lips.
“I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible.”
“My mother's going to kill you, you know.”
“Why?”
“You couldn't do this last week when we were in Atlanta?”
“I think she'll appreciate the setting of this proposal better. The beach, fireworks. It's pretty awesome.”
“Be sure to let her know that when you tell her,” she teases as she leans in for another kiss.
We stand there, holding each other on the beach, as the sky lights up above us, and I realize this is what happiness looks like.
Not the performance of it, not the careful construction of it, but the real thing that happens when you find the person who sees exactly who you are and chooses you anyway.
“So,” I say, grinning down at her, “ready to be a Grimaldi?”
“I've been ready since the day you helped me lie to my mother,” she says, laughing through her tears.
“Best lie I ever told.”
“Best truth I ever lived.”
And as we head back up the beach toward my family, her hand secure in mine and her ring catching the last light of the fireworks, I know that every moment of pretending led me exactly where I was meant to be. Right here, with her, for real.
She's the only truth I'll ever need.