Epilogue
The city was quieter at night.
Not silent — never that — but softened, like it had exhaled. The lights outside the penthouse stretched endlessly, constellations made of glass and movement, a reminder that the world kept turning whether they were ready for it or not.
Amanda stood on the balcony in bare feet, one of Ericka's sweaters draped over her shoulders. Inside, the apartment glowed low and warm. No cameras. No phones. No people asking questions.
Just them.
Ericka stepped up behind her, slow and careful, wrapping her arms around Amanda's waist and resting her chin against her shoulder. She smelled like lavender and something familiar — home, in a way Amanda hadn't known until her.
"You're thinking again," Ericka murmured.
Amanda smiled faintly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only because I know you," Ericka said. "You get quiet right before the weight hits."
Amanda leaned back into her. "I'm not scared," she said honestly. "Just... aware."
Ericka tightened her arms slightly. "Of what's coming?"
"Of how loud it's about to get," Amanda said. "The wedding. The press. The opinions. Everyone suddenly thinking they know us."
Ericka was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was steady — not CEO-steady, but something deeper.
"I won't pretend it won't be hard," she said. "I know myself. I know you. We're going to argue. We're going to mess up."
Amanda turned in her arms then, facing her fully. "Yeah," she said softly. "We are."
Ericka lifted a hand, brushing her thumb along Amanda's jaw, grounding herself there. "But I also know this," she continued. "None of that changes what we are when the doors close."
Amanda's chest tightened — not painfully, just full.
"When it's just us," Ericka said, "I'm not defending a brand. I'm not performing strength. I'm just... yours."
Amanda swallowed. "And I'm not fixing things," she replied. "I'm not managing fallout. I'm just choosing you."
Ericka smiled at that — small, real, unguarded.
They stood there for a while, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in like it was something they might need to remember later.
"Whatever happens," Amanda said finally, "we talk. We don't disappear. We don't assume."
Ericka nodded. "We stay."
Amanda laughed quietly. "Even when you're stubborn."
"Especially when I'm stubborn."
Amanda kissed her then — not urgent, not desperate. Just a promise sealed gently, deliberately. When they pulled back, Ericka rested her forehead against Amanda's.
"The wedding will be for everyone else," Ericka said. "But this—" she gestured between them, small and infinite "—this is ours."
Amanda smiled. "Good. Because this is what I want to protect."
They went inside together, closing the balcony doors behind them, shutting out the city and its expectations.
Tomorrow would bring planning, pressure, and public scrutiny.
But tonight belonged to them.
Before the noise.