Epilogue
(Actually) One Year Later
Didn’t we wake up to this song last year?” Robbie fumbles around the bedside looking for my phone as the pop synth sounds play.
He pauses when instead of George Michael’s voice, he hears me singing my lyrics over the demo audio track.
I laugh. “I programmed the alarm. It’s the latest version of our song!”
His head sinks back into his pillow as he groans. “I need to go back to the original arrangement,” he mutters to himself. “Don’t want to get sued.”
I nip his chest. “Music is your department, Mr. Morrow. You better lock yourself up until you get this right.”
He kisses my head. “Good thing we live on top of a music store, Mrs. Silva-Morrow.”
I chuckle and rub my candy cane stockinged feet against his. The light pouring through our window basks over the bed and lights up his eyes in an inviting warmth.
“Since the store is closed as we renovate, I wouldn’t mind rehearsing before we go singing at Mercy Hospital today.
” My chest swells. Now that I’m singing in public again, caroling at the children’s hospital where my dad worked fills me with joy and satisfaction.
Especially with a brilliant performer like my husband.
Maybe one day I’ll return to Piney Junction and sing for the tree lighting ceremony. If I can manage to find it on a map—no matter how many Google searches I do, for some reason I just can’t track that town down.
Robbie wraps an arm around me and kisses my hand where my emerald-cut diamond engagement ring sits next to my wedding band. “I can think of other things we can do in the music studio, and all over the rest of the shop.”
I slap his hands playfully. “Not my speech therapy room in the back of the shop,” I say sternly. “That space is forever off-limits.”
“Agreed,” he pretends to grumble, but from his dimpled smile I know he’s sincere and proud of my work.
Plus, thanks to my income with my therapy practice and the savings Robbie stashed away from his Broadway gigs, we were able to qualify for a loan and assume ownership of the music shop and the residential space above it from his parents.
(I may have also suggested a few tech stock investments that took off this year—hey, I didn’t just read romantasy books when I was in the future.)
Best of all, we were also able to retain the store’s manager and staff, to help us hit the ground running.
But before we reopen, we want to make some key renovations, including a recording studio space and a room for me to conduct my speech therapy work so I can stop operating out of a rented room downtown.
I glance at the exposed brick walls, their rough texture glowing softly in the morning light, and at the makeshift workbench on the other side of our loft where our latest “renovation experiments” are scattered like proud battle scars.
We moved into the apartment right after Christmas last year, boxes everywhere, the place still half-unfinished and smelling like pine and fresh paint.
Robbie proposed at the end of a long day when we were both streaked with paint and sawdust, sitting on the floor with sore hands and takeout cartons between us.
He pulled out his keyboard like it was no big deal and played a song he’d written just for me, his voice a little rough from the cold.
“If a soulmate is a sound, it’s you calling my name,” he sang. And that was it. I said yes before he even finished.
Our wedding followed that same spirit, only louder. We sang our vows to each other instead of reading them, our voices shaky but sure, surrounded by my boisterous family and everyone who’d ever loved us.
Of course, we had Robbie’s music friends play at our reception—and an impromptu dance performance from Leo and Audrey—but later, when it was just the two of us, he played for me again.
No crowd, no noise—just soft music, laughter, and an encore best enjoyed without a lot of clothes.
Over the months, we’ve been transforming this space to something cozy, warm, ours, and maybe even Pinterest-worthy if the DIY gods smile on us.
Now my gaze lingers on our Christmas tree, twinkling adorably in the corner.
And Robbie’s contribution: a garland made entirely out of tiny red paper espresso cups, strung together with twine in a heartfelt, slightly ridiculous homage to my holiday latte obsession.
It’s both crafty and absurd, and somehow it makes me love him even more.
The whole scene feels like us: imperfect, sweet, and just a little silly.
I grin at Robbie. “I was thinking we might need to construct an extra room. One day for the future far, far away.”
He smirks. “A library for all your romantasy smut books, you mean?”
“That would be nice, but maybe a possible addition to our family one day, too?”
Robbie’s eyes widen when he finally catches what I’m implying. He wraps his hands around mine. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I’m not saying anytime soon, mind you. Just being prepared.” I pull him close.
“Agreed,” he says. His hands trail down my face. “Maybe we should practice for that future?”
“And enjoy the present,” I add before kissing him deeply.
We spend Christmas morning in bed before forcing ourselves to get ready to go over to my family’s house for our Christmas celebration.
It’s hardly a chore, though. I can’t wait to see my adorable, boisterous family…
I’m just happy I don’t have to sleep on the futon.
That’s where I draw the line. My other siblings might be fine staying in the house over the holidays, but I insist on returning to my apartment at night with my husband.
As we step out onto the street, I stop in my tracks, seeing a familiar white BMW SUV.
My heart stops for a moment as I picture crystals and tarot cards inside.
But then I notice the red bow stuck on the roof. Robbie grins as he gestures at the car. “Merry Christmas,” he announces proudly. “I figured I’d give you your gift before we reached your parents.”
My jaw drops as he continues. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s an expense, but you wouldn’t believe what a deal I got. I found it at a used car lot. It’s only got a few hundred miles on it. And it has a third row,” Robbie says with a huge grin. “You said we need to expand.”
I haven’t stopped staring at the car. I think my eyes might freeze open.
“And you wouldn’t believe what the license plate said.”
I laugh. Actually, I have a pretty good idea what the license plate said.
“Two Morrow.” Robbie beams. “I thought it was fate. We were looking for a car and there it was. Of course, I had to get a new plate when I bought it.”
I race around to the front of the car.
“It’s fitting to our story.” Robbie wraps his arms around my waist and we sway together in harmony.
The tag now reads: XMASDAY.
“It’s perfect. The holiday that brought us together.” And helped me find my voice. I spin around and kiss him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the flash of a sparkly midnight-blue dress disappearing around the snowy corner. Madam Lunas was right: One year from now I am with the love of my life. And thanks to her, I’m looking forward to Christmas with Robbie for all the years to come.
Whoever’s in charge of Christmas miracles, take note: This is my dream holiday date… and soulmate.
Robbie wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. “Oh, oh. I know that look. You cookin’ up something good, MG?”
“Hmm… date and soulmate?” I giggle. “I’ve got an idea for another song. You game, RoMo?”
My heart flutters as he bends down for a kiss. “Only if you sing lead.”