Bonus Epilogue
CAMI
The cruise ship rocks gently beneath us, a slow lull of waves nudging the world into something warm and unreal. Our cabin is dim, lit only by the glow of a bedside lamp and the shimmer of moonlight spilling through the balcony curtains.
Naked and tangled beneath a warm, twisted sheet, we’re still catching our breaths—our hair mussed, our chests flushed from lovemaking that makes the word honeymoon feel extremely adequate.
His fingers drift along on my thigh.
Mine draw patterns on the back of his hand.
The quiet between us feels full; we’re both floating on the same heady cloud.
“I love this version of you,” I whisper.
He smirks. “Which one?”
“My husband. The man who just ruined me in six different ways and would absolutely do it again if I asked nicely.”
A low, satisfied laugh rumbles in his chest. “Baby…my wife…I love this version of you too.”
I’m still smiling when he reaches over the edge of the bed, muscles flexing in a way that absolutely does not help my pulse calm down. He rummages for a second, then sits back up with something in his hand.
A small linen satchel.
My eyebrows lift. “What’s that?”
He doesn’t answer at first. He just hands it to me, something unguarded passing through his eyes. “Open it.”
I loosen the tie, and two very familiar shapes tumble into my lap.
I gasp. “Oh, my god.”
Our bubble phones.
Knox leans back against the pillows, watching my reaction like it’s something he’s been holding onto for months. “I stuck them in a drawer after I picked yours up from JFK. With all that happened—the gala, Jenna, Vermont, the engagement, the wedding—I forgot they were there.”
My fingers brush over the scuffed plastic. “You kept them.”
“Of course I did,” he says, gaze warming my heart. “They were…us.”
My throat tightens.
“And,” he adds gently, “you never got to listen to the voicemail I left you the night before you left Crystal Cove.”
I look up sharply. “I tried to when I got on the plane, but…”
“I know. I charged them this morning,” he says. “Figured…maybe you’d want to hear it.”
Now that we’re married.
Now that our bubble has become a forever.
The phone lights up in my hand, that old blue-pixel glow rising like a ghost from another life.
1 NEW VOICEMAIL.
My breath catches.
A sting gathers behind my eyes.
My heart flips and then flips again.
“Cami,” Knox murmurs, knuckles feathering my cheek, “you don’t have to listen to it tonight.”
But I’m already nodding. “I do.”
I press play, and his voice fills the cabin.
Hey, baby. It’s late. You’re upstairs fast asleep, and I should be sleeping too, but my head’s doing that thing where it won’t shut up unless I get the words out.
I keep thinking about this summer. About the first night you slammed into me, wide-eyed and trying so hard not to look at me.
When you yelled at me outside the coffee shop.
About the attic and the kittens, and you holding them like they were your own newborn babies.
I didn’t know then what you’d end up being to me.
I didn’t know you’d crack open parts of me I thought were long gone.
You changed me, Cami. Not with some big dramatic moment, but with so many small ones.
Midnight pancakes. Powdered sugar. Your laugh on the boardwalk.
You feeding Stripe and Shadow with that ridiculous level of concentration, like they were the most important fur babies in the world.
You made the last three months feel like a life I didn’t know I wanted.
Our summer bubble means everything to me.
You mean everything to me. I’ll never forget a single part of it.
Not the kisses. Not the hot moments in bed.
Not the pillow talk. Not the banter. Not the way you looked at me during our first make-out session that night on the beach, like you’d finally let yourself believe in happiness again.
And tomorrow…I know you step back into real life. New York. Whatever expectations the new job has in store for you. Baby…you’ve got this.
I love you, Cami. More than I ever expected to. More than I know how to say in a late-night voicemail. I can feel that you love me too. By how you look at me, in the way you say my name…and when we make love.
So, wherever you go next…wherever life takes you…I wish on a thousand shooting stars, it takes you back to me.
And if you do decide to come back…it’s Knox Everette Ryder. My real number is (212) 555-1212.
Call me anytime. For anything. Even if it’s just to hear me breathe on the other end.
Bye for now, Bubble Girl.
Hope to see you soon…at the start of our forever.
The End