Epilogue #2
My breath caught before we even reached the top.
When the door opened, the entire rooftop glowed.
String lights overhead.
A small table with black linen and gold plates.
White flowers in a vase.
Soft music playing.
And on the table, under silver covers, I already knew.
“Lemon pepper wings?” I asked.
Eric smiled. “With garnish.”
I laughed, pressing a hand over my mouth.
Because it was ridiculous.
Because it was perfect.
Because the first time he brought me up here, I had been scared to believe it was special.
Now I knew.
It had always been special because he meant it that way.
We sat down, and I looked around at the city, at the block below, at the place where we had argued, healed, kissed, and chosen each other before we knew what choosing would cost.
“You recreated our first date,” I said.
“Updated it.”
“How?”
He nodded toward the side.
That was when I saw the framed photo sitting on a small easel.
It was from Loyalty’s grand opening. Someone had caught us on the rooftop, Eric holding my hand while I looked up at him, both of us smiling like the world had gone quiet around us.
I stood and walked closer.
Under the photo was engraved:
Built with love. Kept with loyalty.
My eyes burned immediately.
“Eric.”
He came to stand behind me, arms wrapping around my waist.
“I wanted you to remember where we started,” he said.
“At Big Ray’s?”
“At a moment you didn’t expect.”
I leaned back against him.
“I didn’t expect you,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I wasn’t even looking for love.”
“You were looking for wings.”
“And parking.”
“And peace.”
I smiled through the tears. “And peace.”
His arms tightened around me.
“You found all four,” he said.
I laughed, wiping my face. “You are so cocky.”
“I’m accurate.”
I turned in his arms and looked up at him.
“You know I love you, right?” I asked.
His expression softened in a way that always got me.
“I know.”
“No, I mean…” I swallowed. “I love you for real. Not because you saved me. Not because you fixed things. Not because you made life perfect. You didn’t.”
“I know.”
“I love you because you stayed. Because you kept showing me I could be soft and still be safe. Because you loved me when I was funny, scared, difficult, and dramatic.”
“You still dramatic.”
“I am giving a speech.”
“My fault.”
I poked his chest. “You loved me from the block, Eric. But you also loved me through the ugly parts. The fear. The internet mess. The family drama. The overthinking.”
“And I’ll keep loving you through it.”
My breath caught.
He reached into his coat pocket.
My whole body froze.
“Eric.”
He pulled out a key.
Not a ring.
A key.
I stared at it, confused and relieved and suspicious all at once.
“What is that?”
He placed it in my palm.
“A key to the new office space next to Loyalty.”
My mouth opened. “What?”
He smiled. “Your event studio.”
For a second, I could not speak.
That was rare and medically concerning.
He continued, “It’s not a gift I’m forcing on you. The lease is in your name. First three months are handled because I believe in investing in what you’re building. After that, it’s yours to run however you want. Decor consultations, event planning, whatever you dream up.”
I stared at the key in my hand.
My vision blurred.
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“Eric.”
“You’ve been making everybody else’s moments beautiful from wherever you could fit them. You deserve your own space.”
The tears came then.
No warning.
No dignity.
Just full face betrayal.
Eric pulled me into his chest, and I cried into his sweater while trying to fuss.
“I hate you,” I said, voice muffled.
“No, you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
He rubbed my back, laughing softly.
“You always doing stuff,” I cried.
“Good stuff?”
“Yes, but still.”
“You deserve good stuff.”
That made me cry harder.
Because I believed him now.
That was the miracle.
Not the studio.
Not the rooftop.
Not the wings with garnish.
The miracle was that when Eric said I deserved good things, some part of me no longer argued.
After I got myself together, we ate dinner under the lights. Big Ray’s wings plated fancy again. Fries. Extra ranch. Sparkling water. Cheesecake.
Ray had even sent a note:
Monica, don’t let him mess this up. Eric, don’t mess this up. —Ray
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
Later, Eric and I stood at the railing, looking over the block.
Down below, Big Ray’s sign glowed. Loyalty’s entrance buzzed with laughter and music. Cars passed. People talked. The city lived.
Eric’s arms wrapped around me from behind.
“You happy?” he asked.
I leaned into him.
“I am.”
“You good?”
I smiled.
That question.
Always that question.
This time, I turned in his arms, looked him in the eyes, and gave him the answer I had been learning how to mean.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m good.”
His smile was slow and beautiful.
“Good.”
I touched his face. “You good?”
He kissed my palm.
“With you? Yeah.”
I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.
Steady.
Strong.
Home.
Eighteen months ago, I had walked into Big Ray’s hungry, tired, and determined not to need anybody.
Then love showed up in a black T-shirt, asking if I always looked mad waiting on wings.
I didn’t know then that my whole life was about to change.
I didn’t know that one man could make safety feel sexy, romance feel real, and the future feel less like a threat and more like a table already set for two.
I didn’t know love could be this funny.
This soft.
This hood.
This holy.
This mine.
Some men loved from a distance.
Some loved only when it was easy.
But Eric loved me from the block—loud, loyal, patient, and all the way home.
And baby?
I finally stopped running long enough to love him back.