Epilogue
Spring break, one year later
It’s the perfect day for a hike.
Then again, there aren’t many imperfect days in Switzerland, with its teal waters and lush green mountains that steal the breath from Ramona’s lungs every time she gazes out at the landscape.
“It feels a little wrong, how much I like this hat on you,” Nick says, reaching out to flick the brim of her UCLA cap.
“This or the Clippers hat?”
He gives her a grave look. “Don’t make me choose.”
“Why do I feel like your dirtiest fantasies would involve me wearing a baseball cap and nothing else,” Ramona says, laughing.
“Because you know me very, very well. And you wouldn’t dare tease me like that in public.” He brackets his arms around her waist, tugging her close, and she’s still grinning when he brings his mouth down to hers.
After they conquered all the hikes in the book he gave her last Christmas, this seemed like the logical next move. Ramona’s spent so much of her life in cities she can barely remember, and she’s eager to make new memories.
Ones that have Nick right next to her.
“I’m actually amazed you can do this without that many bathroom breaks,” he says as gentle sunshine beams overhead. “Really, just holler if you need to pee in the bushes. I can make sure no one’s watching.”
With a groan, Ramona nudges him with her shoulder, though there are few things she loves more than Nick teasing her. “I’m growing and challenging myself every day.”
And it’s true—not just physically.
Her nonprofit is still in its early stages, focusing on sex ed and body image for young performers in Hollywood.
The goal is to hire educators to teach workshops geared toward kids in the industry who may not be getting that kind of information elsewhere—or worse, might be getting the wrong kind of information.
She even declared a major in business at the end of her freshman year.
Sure, she probably doesn’t need the degree to run the company, or could outsource that kind of management, but she wants to be as hands-on as possible.
Wants to understand everything. She’s more energized than she’s been in ages, in no small part because it’s a topic she’s deeply passionate about.
Something she knows firsthand, and wants to change.
The trauma—because she can finally call it what it is; that’s been part of the recovery, too—is still there, a scar that grows lighter every day.
The whole time, Nick’s been right there encouraging her. Reminding her that she’s smart, capable, has something unique to offer.
It’s been a year of change in every sense of the word.
Last summer, she sold her house, and she and Nick moved in to a new place in Encino, where Audrey and Lexi visit all the time.
Finally Ramona felt like she could properly exhale without all those empty rooms. She donated plenty of her memorabilia and auctioned off even more, the money going to support victims of sexual assault.
She hasn’t exactly been low profile lately.
After three other women came forward, charges were filed, and Ramona prepared for a long road ahead.
Her ex took a plea deal a few months ago, and even that felt enormous, with how many sexual assault cases are never reported and how few attackers actually punished.
And he hasn’t booked a single job since.
Ramona and Nick have managed it, the renewed attention on her. It comes in waves, and every now and then she comes across some nostalgia post on social media, and she can appreciate the memory for what it was: something that brought her to where she is now.
Now: hiking with her boyfriend through the Swiss countryside. A postcard in every direction.
“Do you remember,” she says as they wave to a pair of hikers on their way down, “the day we met, when you asked me if we could talk in your office? And I was wondering why you didn’t have your students call you doctor?”
His gaze turns soft. “I remember everything.”
“You asked if I was thinking of getting a PhD, and I totally brushed you off.”
“I believe your exact words were, ‘Sure. Why not.’ ”
“How badly did you want to throttle me?”
“I wanted to do a lot of things,” he says. “Most of which were extremely inappropriate for a soon-to-be-tenured professor.”
“Okay, ego,” she says with a laugh, but he knows how proud she is. It was almost a year ago that he was granted tenure, and she never gets sick of hearing about his classes or his research. “What do you think those versions of us would say about us now?”
“They would probably lose their minds.” He goes quiet for a moment, considering it. “Mostly…I think they’d be in a bit of shock that they could be this happy.”
“Nick.” Ramona has so much affection for those two lost souls who managed to find each other in a college classroom.
She’s kept the anxiety at bay for most of the hike, but now she stops walking, the nerves stronger than the burning in her legs.
“I was going to wait until we got to the summit, but I’m not sure if I can. ”
“Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head. Reaches for his hand, threads their fingers together. “No, I just—you know how much I love you. And I love our life together. You’re my favorite person in the world, and nothing’s missing, except…I really want to be your wife.”
The awe on his face—she’s never seen anything lovelier. Bright-eyed and hopeful and hers.
“Are you asking me to marry you? Because”—he breaks off with a wild, disbelieving grin—“I was planning to propose at the end of the trip. There’s a ring in my suitcase back at the hotel, and now I’m wishing I had it with me—”
“I don’t care about a ring,” she says, and then he’s pressing closer, yanking off her baseball cap so he can properly kiss her. He tells her yes over and over against her mouth, and she says it back with a smile against his skin.
Incredible, she thinks, to feel like she’s home when she’s thousands of miles away from it.
They must set a record for how long it takes them to reach the peak, but it’s worth it when they finally get there—cloudless and sprawling, an infinite blue sky and staggering hills of green.
They marvel, and they kiss, and they take teary-eyed photos.
Nick slings an arm around her shoulders like the two of them on top of this mountain is the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it is.
“So. Tell me what the ring looks like,” Ramona says, and he laughs and holds her tighter.
She wanted a life like this when she stepped out of the spotlight, but she never dreamed it could truly happen. And with this man, who buries his face in the back of her neck every night, and then every day proves to her that love is a tender, honest thing.
“You know,” he says. “Taking emotional selfies with your fiancé is very normal.”
And oh, she loves that word. She vows to use it as much as she can—at least, until she can call him her husband instead.
“Well,” she says with her hand in his shirt, pulling him close yet again, “I had a pretty fantastic teacher.”