Epilogue
TRISTAN
What’s the number one rule for Thanksgiving? Don’t burn the fucking turkey.
Three guesses what I burned?
Tessa’s cackling behind her second glass of wine, while Daphne’s giving me a sympathetic look.
Tuck asks if he should order some chicken from KFC, but after ten minutes of trying to scrape off the blackened skin of the burned bird, I cave in.
Tonight was supposed to be special. Memorable. Sure, I cook dinner for Daphne all the time, but this is Thanksgiving.
I don’t want her to think of my proposal as the night I burned our first Thanksgiving dinner.
As far as omens go, our future marriage isn’t off to a great start.
“Well, Hawkeye will be happy for a few days.” Daphne rests a soft hand on my bicep and squeezes, giving me a reassuring smile. “Besides, I never liked turkey. It’s always too dry.”
The woman has had Thanksgiving dinner from Michelin-starred chefs. I highly doubt that, but I appreciate the sentiment. I kiss her on the cheek before leaving the charcoal-black bird to cool off on top of the oven.
Hawkeye sits on the floor, his head whipping from the counter to me, to Daphne, to Tessa, and finally to Tuck. None of us is caving in to the cuteness.
Klinger’s tiny puppy paws tap along the floor in excitement before glancing at Hawkeye.
He immediately sits, his tongue rolling out wordlessly, asking if he’s doing it right.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when Daphne brought him home from the shelter.
He’s been the missing piece to our little family.
“Tessa, can you hand me the spatula?” I ask as I pop open the can of cream of mushroom soup for a green bean casserole—five-star cuisine at its finest.
“I’m ordering KFC,” Tuck declares. And honestly, with how worried I am about the proposal and with how I’m botching dinner worse than one of my crime scenes, it’s for the best. I haven’t killed anyone lately—though I don’t know if I’ve hung up my Guy Fawkes mask for good.
As I’m shoving the casserole into the oven, Tristan announces our food will be here in twenty-five minutes.
“Are you alright?” Daphne asks as she sets her wine glass on the kitchen island and gives me a funny look. “You’re not usually so… so…”
“Culinarily blessed?” I ask as I wave my hand to remind her of the blackened bird. Poor Turkey Lurkey died in vain.
“So jumpy,” she finishes with a tug of a smile on her lips. God, I want to kiss that look right off her face.
“I want our first Thanksgiving to be perfect,” I tell her.
“It’s my first Thanksgiving with you, and without my mom.” Daphne wraps her arms around my waist, her manicured fingers digging into my back. “It’s already the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”
I can’t really say the same yet. I haven’t proposed yet.
She could always say no. And that would make this the worst Thanksgiving ever—even including the one after Dad died.
Tristan was away in college, and it was Tess and I eating our frozen Stouffer's turkey dinners and watching some godawful rom-com she’d wanted to see.
Not that it stopped her from glaring daggers at me the entire night.
I‘m thankful for a lot of things, and I’m eternally grateful that we managed to work past that rough patch in our relationship. I’d do anything for my sister.
And she’s gone above and beyond to help me—in every way except cooking. She took Daphne out for their usual Tuesday girls outing a couple of days ago and made sure Daphne got a fresh manicure, along with a mini shopping spree and romance book haul.
Daphne’s gotten Tessa into reading the same books as her, and I swear, the two of them are inseparable.
“I’ll try to save the side dishes,” I tell her. “Can you finish setting the table?”
Daphne nods. Honestly, I think she’s happy to have something to do besides standing around and watching me fuck up more food. The dogs trail behind her like ducklings, their tails wagging as they round the corner into the dining room.
Would Daphne think it’s romantic if I stuck it in the mashed potatoes?
No. No second-guessing and changing my plans. The burned turkey has me rattled. I’m jumpy. It’s like every nerve’s wired with an overload of electricity, and I can’t stand still.
“You need to calm down,” Tuck says as he strolls over and stares cautiously at the stove, like it might explode if he tries to jump in and cook anything.
“Dude, I’m trying,” I tell him as I run a hand through my hair and—“Fuck.” Now I’ve got cream of mushroom soup streaked through it.
“Go get in the damn shower,” Tuck says as he tugs on the apron string around my waist. “I’ve got food covered. You’ve got bigger things to worry about tonight than a shitty casserole.”
“Hey,” I scoff, calling up my flour-coated apron and tossing it at him. “My casseroles are fucking delicious.”
Tuck rolls his eyes but can’t hide the flicker of a smile. “Right. Sure. Go get a shower. Did you even use deodorant this morning?”
“Fuck you,” I huff.
“Love you too.”
As I stride past him, he grabs my shoulder to stop me. “Good luck tonight. And don’t worry. She’s perfect for you. She’ll say yes.”
I nod as Tuck drops his hand, his blue eyes shining with a look I haven’t seen in him before. He looks… proud.
“Aw, is my big brother getting soft on me now?” I tease.
Tuck drops the look and rolls his eyes, but he can’t fight his smile. He’d make a shitty poker player. “Go shower. You stink.”
I lift my arm up and, after one sniff, I bolt right upstairs. I scrub away every bit of soup and flour and bits of random egg and salt from my skin.
The warm water calms me down enough for my stomach to stop flipping like an otter. I dry off, apply some extra deodorant, and slip into a pair of jeans and one of the merch t-shirts Daphne’s made for her channel. “Better than a Book Boyfriend” shines across my chest in blood-red letters.
I have every shirt she’s designed for men.
Even though she wants to keep her channel anonymous, I’m still going to be her biggest supporter.
She’s done amazing this last year, and I know she’s only going to get better, be better, and finally show everyone what she’s capable of now that she doesn’t have to live in her parents’ shadows.
Her mother doesn’t know I’m proposing. Even with the family therapy they’ve attended this past year, I have a gut feeling she’d tell Daphne if she found out. No, Grace Fox doesn’t get to spoil this for Daphne.
Even if it means not asking her family for permission, I’m not giving that woman the opportunity to taint this for Daphne. The turkey was bad enough.
By the time I’m downstairs, Tessa’s answering the door and tipping the driver a few hundred dollars in cash as Tuck takes the bags of food from them.
We spread out the food onto proper porcelain plates like a real meal and take everything into the dining room. I salvaged the casserole, the mashed potatoes, and some steamed corn. The rest… Well, Gordon Ramsey would be calling me an idiot sandwich if he walked into my kitchen.
We pass around a bottle of wine Tessa brought over and pour a glass before Tessa raises hers in a toast with a cheery smile.
My cue.
“I never enjoyed Thanksgiving,” I start off. “Tuck was almost always working. Tessa, well, we didn’t get along for a while, but it’s mostly been the two of us. Last year, Daphne tried to visit Grace for dinner. That didn’t end well.”
Daphne winces at the memory.
“But I’m thankful we were all able to get together this year.
” My heart hammers harder in my chest now as I stand.
My clammy palms dig into the arms of the chair as I push it back fully.
“Because this is the first year we get to celebrate as a family. It’s been a long time coming, and I wanted our family to be together for this.
” I walk over to the buffet table and open one of the drawers, retrieving a book.
The one I’d stolen from Daphne the night I kidnapped her.
I’d told her I’d lost it and bought her a new copy, but I’d stashed it somewhere for safekeeping.
“I know you love love stories. They’re kind of your thing.”
Daphne nods from her chair, but she’s the only one looking confused.
“I’ve read a few myself. I’ve watched every one of your videos. And despite all of that, our love story will always be my favorite.” I hand her the book and mouth the words “Open it.”
She does. The book flops open, revealing a ring tied to a blue ribbon, the same ocean blue as her eyes. A gasp escapes Daphne as her glossy lips pop open in surprise. Tears well in her stunning eyes, and she’s so damn breathtaking right now, I can’t look away.
“Daphne Eleanor Fox,” I say as I drop to my knee, my heart thumping so hard it aches.
My legs shake as I rest on one knee. “I am so madly in love with you that every day feels like a dream. You have turned my world upside down, and I never want to go back to reality. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Daphne, will you marry me?”
My throat tightens on the question, and the silence drags on for what feels like an eternity before she finally nods.
“Yes,” she squeaks out as the first tears begin to fall.
I stand on trembling legs as Daphne pushes her chair back, flinging herself into my arms. And I’ve got her. I’ll always have her for as long as she wants me.
I am so far gone for this woman, there’s no turning back. And I’d never want to. Daphne Fox is my entire world.
Tristan and Tessa start to clap, making Hawkeye and Klinger bark. Klinger trots his way over to us, so excited his tail starts whacking the backs of my legs.
Daphne laughs into my chest as she pulls back.
My god, she’s absolutely radiant as she smiles up at me. “I love you, Tristan.”
“I’m so fucking in love with you, Daphne.” My hands are shaking slightly as I grab the book from the table and tug on the knot to release the ring.
I slip it onto her finger, and her eyes widen again, like she’s seeing it for the first time. The round stone glitters with rainbow slices from the dining room lights.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, and a surge of pride washes over me. She’s had enough pictures posted on her Pinterest that it wasn’t so hard to find something she’d like.
“Congratulations,” Tessa says as she walks over to give her future sister-in-law a hug.
“Congrats,” Tuck says, clapping me on the back. “You did good.”
And that’s the best compliment Tuck’s ever given me.
After a few more hugs, tears, and another round of congratulations from my siblings, I turn to them and say, “You two, keep eating.” I take Daphne’s hand in mine to lead her away from the table. “I’ve got something to show Daphne.”
“What’s that?” she asks as she follows me out into the garage.
I close and lock the door behind her as I lead her towards the Porsche.
“I want to celebrate,” I say as I swat her perfect ass before she sits in the passenger seat. “See, I’ve always had this fantasy involving a Porsche…”
But reality is so much better than fantasy. Sometimes villains like me get the girl and find our happy ending.