EPILOGUE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
CADE
I woke up to the soft, golden light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our suite at the Carlyle Hotel in Paris.
It was four months after the grand opening of the Palm Beach Promenade, and here we were, tangled in crisp white sheets on the king-sized bed.
Bella was still asleep beside me, her breathing steady and soft, one arm draped across my chest like she owned the place—which, let's be honest, in many ways, she did.
Owned me, heart and soul. Her hair was a wild cascade of waves on the pillow, and there was this tiny freckle on her shoulder I couldn't stop staring at. God, she’s beautiful.
I'd arranged for room service the night before, a surprise breakfast because... why not? Paris was made for gestures like that. Right on time, a discreet knock sounded at the door. I slipped out of bed, careful not to jostle her, and pulled on a robe.
The waiter, all starched uniform and polite nods, wheeled in a cart that smelled like heaven.
Plates of fresh baked croissants flaking with butter, pain au chocolat oozing dark chocolate, a silver pot of steaming coffee, pitchers of fresh-squeezed orange juice and mimosa mix, a platter of ripe strawberries, cheeses, and charcuterie.
He'd even added a bouquet of pink peonies, Bella’s favorite.
I tipped him generously and closed the door with a soft thud before wheeling the cart over to the sitting area by the window.
The view was killer: the Eiffel Tower standing tall against a blue sky, the Seine glittering below like it was showing off to anyone up this early to notice.
Bella stirred as the aroma wafted over. She mumbled something incoherent, her eyes fluttering open. "Cade? What time is it?"
"Just past eight," I said, flashing a grin as I poured steaming coffee into her favorite mug. "Surprise. Figured we’d kick off the day like Parisian royalty."
She propped herself up, blinking sleep from her eyes, and surveyed the spread. "Oh my God, you didn’t. This is unreal. Croissants in Paris? Cliché, but I’m totally here for it.”
I chuckled and slid the mug toward her, the rich aroma curling between us. "Cliché’s my specialty. Dig in before these pastries stage a revolution."
She threw off the covers and joined me at the table, still in her silk slip, looking effortlessly gorgeous.
We dug in, the pastries crumbling perfectly, the coffee rich and strong.
As we ate, the conversation flowed easily, like it always did now.
No more of that awkward, confusing dance we'd done at the beginning.
"So, what’s your favorite part of our trip so far?" I asked, smearing apricot jam across a crusty slice of baguette.
“I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips as if mentally replaying the past few days with theatrical deliberation.
"It’s been unreal. Beyond anything I pictured.
That dinner cruise on the Seine? The way the water caught the city lights was something else.
And the Eiffel Tower at dusk—overhyped, maybe, but it hit me hard.
Like we’ve crammed a decade into a week. "
I nodded, my grin widening as I reached for her hand across the table. Our fingers locked with easy familiarity. "Yeah, it’s been damn near flawless. No inbox pings, no chaos. Just you and me."
Bella’s phone buzzed softly on the table, breaking the moment. She glanced at the screen, her eyes lighting up as she swiped to open an email. "Hold that thought," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "I’ve got news. Big news."
I arched a brow, leaning in. "Oh? Lay it on me."
She scanned the email, her smile growing wider with every word. "Remember that pitch I gave the other day while you were passed out, recovering from jet lag? To Maison de la Soie, the design house?"
I smirked. "Vividly. You were pacing the hotel room like a boxer before a fight."
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Well, they loved the new collection. The one with the swirling abstracts and the metallic threads.” She paused and her eyes brightened a little more. “They're offering me a collaboration. Exclusive line for their fall runway show.”
“Are you serious?”
She nodded, and her smile spread across her face, as if it could be contained no more. “It's the next step, Cade. Going from my little boutique to Paris fashion week level? I still can’t believe it."
I set down my fork, staring at her in awe. "Bella, that's huge. Holy shit, I'm so proud of you." I pulled her into a hug across the table, nearly knocking over the juice. She giggled as I kissed her cheek. "You've earned this."
We finished breakfast, lingering over the fruit, talking more about the trip. "Paris has this energy," she said, gazing out the window. "It's inspiring my designs already.”
"Can't wait to see them," I said. "And today's plans? Musée d'Orsay is top of the list, right?"
"Absolutely. I want to soak in the Impressionists. Monet, Renoir, van Gogh... I don’t know. It might spark something for the collaboration."
"Sounds good. After that, we can wander the Left Bank, grab lunch at that outdoor café with the crepes."
She nodded, her face radiant. "Perfect. This whole trip feels like a reset. After the grand opening whirlwind, I needed this."
As we cleared the plates, I watched her move around the room, graceful and confident.
How did I get this lucky? Bella wasn't just my girlfriend; she was everything.
I loved her laugh, the way she bit her lip when concentrating on a design, how she challenged me to be better.
The past all seemed so stupid now. So meaningless.
But here we were, happier than ever. I loved Bella so deeply it scared me, but in the best way.
She made me want to be the man she deserved, every day.
"Bella," I said, my voice a little rough with emotion. She turned, tilting her head. "I just... I love you. More than I can put into words."
She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I love you too, Cade. You're my rock." We kissed, slow and sweet, the kind that lingers and promises more.
After a quick shower—together, because why waste water in Paris—we got dressed. Bella in a flowy sundress and one of her own scarves tied around her neck, me in jeans and a button-down. She grabbed her phone. "Hold on, I need to send Lilly a pic. She's been blowing up my texts, asking for updates."
She snapped a selfie of us by the window, the Eiffel Tower photobombing in the background, both of us grinning like idiots. Caption: Paris mornings with my favorite person. Jealous yet? She tapped Send.
Her phone pinged almost immediately. "Lilly says, 'You two are disgustingly cute. Bring me back chocolate and stories!' With a bunch of heart emojis."
I chuckled. "Tell her we'll do one better... maybe a scarf from your new line."
We headed out, the hotel lobby, a swirl of marble and chandeliers, the doorman tipping his hat.
The streets of Paris buzzed with life. Street vendors hawked baguettes and pastries.
Couples strolled arm in arm. The scent of espresso lingered everywhere.
We walked to the Musée d'Orsay, the air crisp with that early summer edge.
Inside, the museum was a treasure trove.
We wandered hand in hand, stopping at the Van Gogh self-portrait, Bella murmuring about the bold strokes and how they could translate to silk.
"See the blues here?" she asked, pointing. "Mixed with gold thread, it could be a sunset scarf."
"You're brilliant," I whispered, kissing her temple.
We spent hours there, lost in the art. Lunch followed at a sidewalk bistro: onion soup, escargot, and wine that went straight to our heads.
We talked about everything and nothing—the future of her career, maybe expanding scarves and sarongs to online international sales, my own work projects back home.
But mostly, we just were. Happy, content, and in love.
As the afternoon faded, we meandered back along the river, stopping for gelato, watching street artists. Back at the hotel, we collapsed on the bed, feet sore but spirits high. Bella curled into me, her head on my chest.
"Thank you for a great day," she sighed.
"You’re welcome. Every day with you is wonderful," I replied, stroking her hair.
Four months post-grand opening, and life was good. No more confusion, just us against the world. Bella's career soaring, our love stronger. Paris was just the beginning. I closed my eyes, holding her close, grateful for every confusing, broken step that led us here.