Epilogue
Three Months Later
I wake to sunlight streaming through the window and the smell of coffee.
Justin's side of the bed is empty, as usual. The man's internal alarm is set obscenely early, and no amount of me trying to drag him back to bed has changed that.
I stretch, feeling pleasantly sore from last night.
We've settled into a rhythm over the past few months.
We work together during the day, maintaining careful professionalism, then home to his place (or occasionally mine, though we both prefer his) where we shed the professional masks and just.. . are.
I pad downstairs in one of Justin's t-shirts to find him in the kitchen, making breakfast. He glances up when I enter, eyes warming.
"Good morning."
"Good morning." I move into his space, wrap my arms around his waist.
“I have a surprise to show you afterwork today,” he says with a smile.
"You're full of surprises lately."
"Am I?"
Over the past three months, he's been full of surprises. Small ones, like leaving notes in my locker at work, sending lunch when I forget to eat, showing up at my apartment with dinner after long shifts. And bigger ones, like the weekend trip to Denver where he took me to a bookstore and told me to buy whatever I wanted, then carried all twelve books to the register without complaint. Since deciding to throw myself into the job full-time, I’d taken on a management position at the park.
My new title is Creative Director, and I’ve loved every second of it.
Since the park is only open on the weekends right now, we spend the week planning special events and hosting weddings, business retreats and other events.
"Sit," he says now, gesturing to the counter. "Eat."
I watch him plate eggs and toast. He sets it in front of me with a glass of orange juice and a pointed look.
"All of it," he says.
"I know, I know. Three meals a day." I mimic. I’m not hungry, not in the slightest. It’s too early to eat.
"Plus, snacks when you're working long shifts."
"You're still very strict about this."
"Because you don't take care of yourself otherwise." He leans across the counter, cups my face. "Someone has to look out for you."
"And you've appointed yourself?"
"I have. Objections?"
I pretend to think about it for a minute. "Nope. None whatsoever."
"Good girl."
The praise still sends shivers through me.
Even after three months, even though I hear it almost daily, it never gets old.
I have an issue where if I get busy, I forget to eat.
It’s caused me to have low blood sugar and even pass out from time to time.
I was anorexic in high school, years ago, and even though I’ve gone through therapy and grown past it, old habits die hard.
It’s not intentional but habitual and Justin has done a great job keeping me accountable for it.
We sit at the table together, discussing the day ahead.
I take a bite of my eggs and push the rest around my plate as we talk.
I’m working with the team to design a new logo for the Special Olympic Christmas in July party.
He has meetings with the expansion team, the new location in Aspen is moving forward, and he's been traveling more for planning sessions.
"I'll be back by four," he says. "In time show you the surprise."
"You don't have to rush back."
"I want to." He stands, starts clearing dishes. "I can’t wait to show you."
My chest tightens. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this man.
"What?" he asks, noticing my expression.
"Nothing. Just... I love you."
His eyes soften. "I love you too." He crosses back to me, tilts my chin up. "Now eat more of your breakfast while I finish getting ready."
"Bossy."
"Always."
Work is busy. We're in full holiday planning mode even though it's only March. We’re scheduling entertainment, coordinating with vendors, reviewing this year's holiday calendar.
I see Justin twice during the day. Once when he's walking through the park with the expansion team, pointing out features he wants to replicate in Aspen. He catches my eye, gives the barest nod, keeps walking.
Professional. Appropriate.
The second time is different. I'm in the break room when he appears in the doorway.
"Miss White. A word?"
I follow him to his office, heart hammering. We don't do this often—private moments during work hours—but when we do, it's usually because he's noticed something.
He closes the door, locks it and turns to face me.
"You didn't eat breakfast."
I blink. "Yes I did. You watched me eat it."
"Don’t lie to me. You did not eat breakfast, you ate one bite. I saw you push the rest around your plate." His tone is calm, but there's steel underneath. "Then, I walked by at lunch and saw you doing the same thing. What’s going on baby?"
"I wasn't that hungry—"
"Holly." He steps closer. "What did we discuss about honesty?"
I sigh. How does he always know? "I just wasn’t in the mood for breakfast today. Like, sometimes when I wake up, I’m not hungry for a few hours, and I really didn’t feel like eating the meal I packed. I need to go to the store, and it wasn’t appetizing."
"Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked something out. An alarm on your phone for a midmorning protein bar.”
"Because I didn’t want to be a bother. I didn’t want to be too much for you."
He studies me for a long moment. "You know you will never be too much for me right? I signed up for this. For you. As your Daddy. It’s my responsibility, one I enjoy immensely, to take care of you."
"It still worries me a little.”
"Why?"
"Because what if it doesn't work? What if I give you too much work? What if you begin to see me as a chore?"
"Holly." He cups my face. "There will never be a time when you make me feel like you are a chore. Keeping me on my toes, giving me things to do? I love the challenge. It keeps things interesting."
"I think I know that.”
"So, what's really bothering you?"
I take a breath. "What if I mess this up? What if I do something that makes you realize I'm not—and then I lose you? What if I get more attached and— "
"Don't." His voice is firm. "Don't finish that sentence. You're not going to mess this up. And even if you stumble, we work through it. That's what we do."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He kisses my forehead. "Now. Since you didn't finish breakfast, and you didn’t eat lunch, you're going to eat now. I'm going to stand here and watch you do it."
"Justin—"
"Not negotiable." He gestures to a salad on his desk. "Start eating."
I do, and he's true to his word, he stands there, arms crossed, watching me take every bite. It should feel controlling, or intimidating. Instead, it feels like a Daddy taking care of his little. It warms me up from the inside out.
When I finish, he nods. "Good girl. Now back to work."
"That's it?"
"That's it. For now." His eyes darken slightly. "But tonight, after your book club meeting, we're going to discuss why you thought you could skip meals and then lie to me about it."
Heat pools low in my belly. "Discuss?"
"Discuss. And potentially remind you who's in charge of making sure you take care of yourself."
"Oh."
His mouth curves. "Oh, indeed. Now go." He swats my bottom playfully as I turn and leave the room.
After I lock up my office, I find Justin waiting for me. He holds out his hand and I take it. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He leads me down the sidewalk and towards the Chapel. He unlocks the door and motions me inside before turning to face me. "I have something for you."
"What is it?"
He leads me to the back of the chapel, to a small door I've never noticed before. He unlocks it, pushes it open.
Inside is a tiny room. A reading nook, essentially, built into the eaves of the chapel, with a window overlooking the park. There's a large comfortable chair, a small bookshelf, and a table with a lamp. It’s cozy and intimate. Is it for me? I turn and look at him.
"I had it built," Justin says. "Over the past month. While you were busy with work."
I stare at the space, throat tight. "You built this? For me?"
"For you. A place to write, to read, to just..
. be. You and your friends can use the chapel for your local book club meetings whenever you want, but this space is yours.
Just yours. You can come here during the busy season or off season.
Have your breaks in here or just come take a nap.
This is your space at the park. A place only for you. "
I turn to him, tears streaming down my face. "Why?"
"Because you're always taking care of everyone else.
You need a space that's just for you. Where you can be quiet and still and just..
. Holly." He knows me. He knows how I thrive around people and crowds but also need time to recharge after being overwhelmed or overstimulated. He’s paid attention to everything. Every part of me.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll use it. Say you'll come here when you need to recharge." He wipes away my tears. "Say you know how much I love you."
"I know. I love you too."
He pulls me close, and I bury my face in his chest, overwhelmed by the gesture. By his thoughtfulness. By how well he knows me.
"There's more," he says after a moment.
"More?"
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a key. "This is yours. You can come here anytime. Even when the park is closed. I’m trusting you with a master key to the park.”
I take the key with shaking hands. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He kisses my forehead. "Now. We have something else to discuss."
"What's that?"
"Our conversation earlier. You skipped breakfast and lunch today."
Heat floods through me. "I wasn't hungry and—"
"Holly." His voice drops, takes on that tone that makes my knees weak. “What did I say would happen if you didn't take care of yourself?"
"Consequences."
"Exactly." He takes my hand, leads me out of the chapel toward the parking lot. "So we're going home. And I'm going to remind you why you don't skip meals."
"Now?"