Epilogue II The Proposal
Brandon
The road trip is finally nearing its end.
Weeks of miles lie behind us now, from film locations to rain-soaked ruins, the long drives stitched together by conversation and laughter. Somewhere between England and Scotland, as the sisters’ thoughts turn toward returning to Australia, the shape of a life begins to feel real.
She met my parents along the way. They’re usually reserved, but she coaxed laughter from them around the campfire, drawing out stories I’d never heard, and softened them in ways I didn’t realise were possible. They adored her. As I knew they would.
As we explore our final destination, an ancient castle perched above the Highland hills, the future no longer feels abstract.
The ring has been sitting in the inside pocket of my coat for days now. This is the moment.
The clouds roll low over the landscape’s muted greens and purples, the sky dark and heavy, the last of the daylight slipping into indigo as the tour winds through the ancient castle.
The air tastes like ice, sharp and cold, but Lily is buzzing beside me, unable to hide her delight.
Every few steps, she tests her healed foot with a bounce or a skip, as if she still can’t get over having it back.
“Careful,” I warn, though my smile gives me away.
She glances over her shoulder with a grin that spells trouble. Then she darts for the narrow stone staircase spiralling up one of the towers.
“Lily.”
My voice echoes up the stairwell, but she’s already laughing her way upward, footsteps quick on the worn steps. I follow, taking the steps at a leisurely pace. My legs are long enough to close the distance in seconds, but where’s the fun in that?
She can run, but she can’t hide.
My hand brushes the cold stone wall for balance.
At the next landing, I reach an open archway. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if she’s gone further up. A faint giggle floats in from outside, and I step through.
“It’s almost like you want to get caught,” I muse, scanning the battlement.
Wind rushes past me, colder up here, carrying the scent of heather and coming rain.
And there she is. Lily stands at the far end, framed by jagged stone and the wide, breathtaking sweep of the Highlands behind her. The hills roll out in shades of violet and deep green, dusk pooling in every valley.
She turns, eyes bright, her waves streaming like golden pennants in the wind.
“You’re slow,” she calls.
I stride towards her, the medieval cloak I very reluctantly agreed to wear whipping in the wind, my boots slapping damp stone.
“You’re reckless,” I counter, a wolfish smile breaking free. “And you were meant to be walking.”
She tries a door, but it’s locked. Dead end.
As I near, she squeals and darts past me, but I catch her around the waist and press her back to my chest.
“I like this adventurous side of yours,” I lilt, voice low near her ear. “But darling, while you may not be aware, you are derailing my plans spectacularly.”
She tilts her head, teasing. “Oh?”
I imagined something slower. Quieter.
Not me chasing her through a castle.
Our relationship is the same—yet it feels deeper. In the short space of a few weeks, the past has finally stopped weighing on my chest. Lily’s become the axis everything else turns on.
If she could stand still for ten seconds, I would tell her so.
But she flies through the castle as if she has years of catching up to do.
Frankly, I feel it too. She’s awakened something in me—something I didn’t realise had gone quiet. I’m hooked, wanting more of everything. The quiet days, the wild ones. Whatever shape life takes, I want to live it with her.
She smiles up at me now, cheeks flushed, eyes full of joy and feeling, and all my planned lines crumble.
She laughs, breath puffing white in the air.
Before doubt can whisper in, I sink to one knee on the wet stone.
Her laughter stops, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief.
“Brandon…”
“I had a whole speech,” I admit, my voice suddenly unsteady, my hands shaking as I try to find the ring in my coat pocket—remembering what I’m asking, and how my whole prospect of happiness rests with her.
Her eyes shine, her hands clasped tight as if to hold herself together.
“I’ve loved watching you find your music again,” I manage, the words scraping out on a breath. “It’s been an honour to be by your side for that. But I want more. I want forever. To spend the rest of my life by your side. Lily-Anne…will you do me the honour of—”
“Yes,” she says at once.
“I haven’t asked yet—”
“Yes,” she laughs, already pulling me up.
“Marry me?” I whisper, dizzy with relief, with her, with all of it. I pat my pockets. “I have a ring…somewhere—”
“Yes,” she says again, and this time it’s barely a sound, barely a breath—and then she’s in my arms, tears spilling into her smile as she collides with me, knocking me back against the cold stone wall.
Her mouth finds mine in a trembling, overjoyed rush, the sort of kiss that pulls me back into life.
She’s laughing and crying against my lips, her hands in my hair, and I hold her as if I could anchor us both, even as I tremble against her.
The wind howls around us, tugging at our clothes, the Highlands stretching out wild and endless beneath a darkening sky.
The clouds roll thicker, swallowing the last of the light, but everything in me burns bright. Her heartbeat thunders against my chest, and mine answers it fiercely. Whatever rhythm she falls into, I’m hers. I’ll be here.
She breaks the kiss only to breathe against my mouth, “I love you. So, so much.”
I caress her cheeks. “And I, you. Madly. Deeply…” Our lips brush. “Always.”
THE END