Epilogue
Melissa
Colton’s bathroom has become my favorite hiding place.
Not because it’s absurdly large—though it is—but because it’s quiet.
It’s the only room in the penthouse where the noise of the night dulls into something softer. Where the laughter and music and overlapping conversations blur into a low hum and the world narrows just to only us.
Colton has me backed lightly against the counter, his hands already far too comfortable at my waist for a man who promised he’d behave tonight.
His mouth is warm against my neck, slow and familiar, leaving soft kisses that make me forget, for a moment, that his living room is full of people who would never let me live it down if they knew where we disappeared to.
I laugh, breathy and quiet, as his fingers slide, like they’re testing the boundaries of my dress.
“Colton,” I whisper, trying to sound stern and failing. “We have guests.”
He doesn’t even pretend to be innocent. “I’m aware.”
His lips brush my jaw, then my cheek, and he’s smiling against my skin like he’s amused by me, by us, by the fact that he’s the kind of man who used to live like affection was a liability, but now acts like he can’t go fifteen minutes without touching me.
I angle my face toward his, catching his mouth with mine before he can do anything worse.
The kiss is soft at first, then deepens in the familiar way that makes my knees go stupid.
When I pull back, I’m still smiling.
“We have an announcement,” I remind him, brushing my hands down his chest like I’m smoothing him back into composure. “And if you mess up my lipstick, you’re the one explaining everything to Sawyer.”
That finally gets him to stop.
He lifts his head, eyes dark and bright at the same time. One brow arches. “That’s a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, then leans forward again like he can’t help himself, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’m not afraid of Sawyer.”
“You should be,” I say. “He’ll interrogate you and then make it weird on purpose.”
Colton’s grin turns slow, dangerous. “I can handle weird.”
“Not his weird.”
He pauses, considering, then sighs as if he’s making a noble sacrifice. “Fine.”
I point at him. “Behave.”
He catches my wrist and pulls me in again before I can step away, kissing me properly this time.
He rests his forehead against mine for a brief moment.
“You’re happy,” he says quietly.
It isn’t a question.
The words hit me unexpectedly hard because he isn’t asking it like a man trying to reassure himself. He’s noticing it like it matters.
I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “Yeah.”
His thumbs brush my hips once, gentle. Almost reverent.
“I like you like this,” he murmurs.
I laugh softly, blinking quickly. “Me too.”
He takes my hand, and we step out of the bathroom together, composure restored … mostly.
The living room is full, warm and loud in a way that still feels surreal in Colton’s space. The city glows beyond the huge windows, Manhattan spread out like a glittering map, but inside, everything feels lived in.
Dean is posted near the bar cart with Roman, both of them holding beers, looking far too pleased with themselves.
Lincoln and Walker are on the couch with Jessie and Kylie, half watching something on the television while still managing to be fully engaged in whatever conversation is happening near the fireplace.
Someone’s kid—Lincoln’s, I think—has managed to take over a section of the rug with a pile of crayons and paper, and nobody seems bothered by it.
Aubrey is perched on the arm of a chair, laughing with Eva like they’ve known each other forever. She looks warm and bright tonight, and my heart squeezes every time I catch her eye.
Kayla is near the kitchen island with a glass of wine, her laptop bag slung over one shoulder, like she came straight from writing and refused to stop being dramatic about it. The second she sees me, she lifts her brows in an exaggerated wiggle.
I glare at her. She grins wider.
Sawyer is in the middle of the room like he owns it—which, in his mind, he probably does—telling a story with his hands, making Dean laugh and Aubrey roll her eyes. When Colton and I walk in, Sawyer pauses mid-sentence.
His gaze flicks from me to Colton. Then to me again. Then he smirks.
“Oh,” he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. “There they are.”
Colton’s hand tenses around mine.
Kayla glides closer like a shark sensing blood in the water. “You guys were gone for a suspiciously long time.”
“We were talking,” I say quickly.
Sawyer’s smirk grows. “Sure you were.”
Colton looks like he might commit a felony.
I squeeze his hand as a silent warning.
Aubrey watches all of it, amused, then catches my eye with a small, secret smile, like she knows the truth without needing anyone to say it.
I take a steady breath. This is it. This is the moment.
I glance up at Colton, and he gives me a subtle nod—an unspoken agreement, telling me I can lead if I want.
It still amazes me how much he means it now when he says that.
I step forward slightly, lifting my voice enough to cut through the chatter.
“Okay,” I say. “Can we have everyone’s attention for a minute?”
The room quiets slowly, like a wave settling. Sawyer raises his brows, like he’s delighted to be part of something dramatic. Dean leans forward, already grinning. Kayla takes a sip of wine, like she’s bracing herself for entertainment.
Colton stays beside me, steady and calm, even though I can feel the tension underneath his composure.
“Hi,” I begin, then laugh nervously because, apparently, I’m capable of being nervous again, even after everything we’ve been through. “We wanted to tell you guys something.”
Sawyer’s grin turns feral.
Dean points at him. “Don’t you start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Sawyer says, raising both hands. “I’m emotionally preparing.”
Colton exhales through his nose.
I glance at him, lips twitching. “You want to say it?”
He clears his throat, and the room leans in. That alone feels like a minor miracle.
“I’m not good at this,” he says plainly, which earns a few chuckles because it’s the most honest opening line he could’ve chosen. “So, I’m going to say it quickly before someone interrupts.”
Sawyer opens his mouth, and Dean elbows him hard.
Colton continues, unfazed. “Melissa and I decided not to wait.”
I feel his hand squeeze mine, grounding both of us, and then he holds up my hand to show it off.
“We didn’t want a big wedding,” I add, my voice steadier than I expected. “I didn’t want to do it all over again. I just wanted to marry the man I love and start our life.”
There’s a split second where the words hang in the air.
“You got married,” Roman says slowly, like he’s savoring it.
“We eloped,” Colton confirms.
The room explodes.
Aubrey gasps so loudly that she actually stands up. “You eloped? You eloped!” She rushes us immediately, wrapping her arms around me first, then her brother. “I knew it. I knew it was serious.”
Kayla lets out a shriek that probably violates some sort of noise ordinance. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re married.”
Sawyer stares between us, stunned. “You skipped all of us?”
Colton deadpans, “That was the appeal.”
Laughter ripples through the room, easing the initial shock into something warm and celebratory. Lincoln’s wife wipes at her eyes. Dean claps Colton on the shoulder, like he’s proud of him in a way that feels deeper than words.
Someone shoves champagne into our hands.
Aubrey pulls back enough to look at me seriously. “Are you happy?”
The question is quiet, intentional.
I nod without hesitation. “Very.”
She smiles, eyes shining. “Good. Because he’s been unbearable lately.”
Colton groans. “Traitor.”
“And,” I add, raising my glass slightly before the chaos can fully take over again, “there’s one more thing.”
That gets everyone’s attention back.
“It seems kind of obvious given what we announced, but we’re moving in together,” I say. “I’ll be living here.”
Sawyer blinks. “You’re brave.”
I laugh. “I’ve seen the sock situation. I’ll survive.”
Colton leans in, murmuring, “I’ve improved.”
“You have not,” Aubrey says cheerfully.
The teasing continues, easy and affectionate, until Colton lifts his glass.
“I don’t love attention,” he says. “Which all of you know.”
A chorus of agreement fills the room.
“But,” he adds, glancing down at me with an expression so open that it still catches me off guard, “this is worth it.”
The room softens.
Dean raises his glass. “To Melissa. For making our friend human.”
Sawyer follows immediately. “And to Colton, for finally joining the land of the emotionally available.”
Colton shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Don’t get used to it.”
We clink glasses, laughter and warmth wrapping around us like a second skin.
For the first time, it really hits me how full this room is. Not just with people, but with connection and history. With futures unfolding in quiet, ordinary ways.
I feel like I’m standing inside something solid. Something chosen.
As the noise swells again and conversations splinter off into smaller groups, Kayla drifts toward me, her eyes glittering with far too much curiosity.
She hooks her arm through mine and leans in conspiratorially. “So, eloped. Married. You casually dropped all that like it’s nothing.”
I smile. “It feels like everything.”
Her grin turns sly. “You know what else this means, right?”
I arch a brow. “Do I want to?”
“Probably not,” she says cheerfully. “But we need to talk. Later.”
I laugh, already knowing whatever she’s about to propose will be ridiculous.
Colton’s hand finds the small of my back again, steady and familiar. He presses a kiss to my temple, quiet and unassuming, like he doesn’t need anyone else to see it to know it matters.
And for once, neither of us feels like hiding.
Later, the champagne has been refilled twice, Aubrey has stolen Colton away to interrogate him about rings and timing and why she wasn’t told immediately, and Sawyer has somehow maneuvered himself onto the floor near Lincoln’s kid and is now losing spectacularly at a game involving crayons.
The night has settled into that comfortable hum where everyone is relaxed, conversations overlapping without urgency. I’m leaning against the counter with Kayla, watching Colton laugh at something Dean said, his shoulders loose in a way that still feels new.
Kayla nudges me with her elbow. “So,” she says lightly, “married. Going to live in a penthouse. No big deal.”
I smile, but there’s a small knot forming in my stomach
“Hey,” I say, lowering my voice. “Can we talk for a second?”
Her brows lift. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not,” I promise. “Just … logistics.”
That definitely gets her attention. We drift a few steps away, toward the quieter edge of the room. She studies my face, already suspicious.
“I know our place is expensive,” I start. “And our lease is ending anyway.”
She narrows her eyes. “Melissa—”
“I—well, I don’t want you to feel like you’re scrambling. Or like you have to figure something out alone.”
Her expression softens. “Okay …”
“I was thinking,” I continue carefully, “that maybe there’s an option for you to take your time finding a new place.”
She crosses her arms, waiting.
“And since Sawyer’s penthouse is basically a luxury hotel pretending to be a home,” I add, “and he’s gone half the time anyway …”
Her mouth drops open. “You are not suggesting—”
“I am suggesting,” I say, “that you temporarily live with Sawyer. Strictly as a practical arrangement.”
Kayla stares at me for a full five seconds. Then she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
She looks across the room to where Sawyer is now dramatically insisting the child cheated.
“You realize,” she says slowly, “this is the most rom-com thing that has ever happened to me.”
I grin. “I thought you might appreciate that.”
She considers it, tapping a finger against her lips. “If his place is massive, I guess I could avoid him if I wanted to.”
“Exactly.”
“And he travels constantly. And,” she adds thoughtfully, “it would drive him insane.”
I laugh. “Bonus.”
She looks back at me then—really looks at me—and something softer settles into her eyes.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
I nod. “Yeah, I really am.”
She smiles, then pulls me into a hug so tight that it almost knocks the breath out of me.
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “You didn’t just survive. You chose something new.”
I pull back, blinking fast. “So did you, apparently.”
She smirks. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Across the room, Sawyer catches Kayla’s eye and raises a brow, clearly wary. She gives him a smile that promises trouble.
Colton appears beside me a moment later, slipping his arm around my waist like it belongs there—because it does.
“All good?” he asks softly.
I lean into him. “Yeah.”
He presses a kiss to my hair, unthinking, easy.
Watching him now as he laughs, surrounded by people he chose, I realize how much has shifted in just a few months. How the man who once hid behind control and distance now stands fully present in his own life.
Later, after hugs and congratulations and lingering goodbyes, when the penthouse finally quiets again, Colton and I end up back where the night began.
In the bathroom.
He leans against the counter, watching me with that familiar intensity that no longer feels like something I have to earn or tiptoe around.
“Still can’t believe you married me,” he says softly.
I smile. “Still can’t believe you let me.”
He reaches for me, pulling me close, forehead resting against mine.
“Not only did I let you,” he says. “I chose you.”
I think about everything that brought us here. The grief. The fear. The moments he almost walked away and the moment he finally didn’t.
“I know,” I whisper.
And I do. Because it wasn’t the wedding or the penthouse or the plans for Italy.
It was the confession.
The truth he finally let himself speak.
That’s what changed everything.