Epilogue
NINA
Eight Months Later
The moment I had spent months dreaming about, sacrificing for, and bleeding for was finally here.
New York Fashion Week. My designs. My brand.
My name. The bright white lights cast a halo over the runway, illuminating the air thick with anticipation.
The entire venue hummed with restless energy, heels clicking against marble, camera shutters snapping, and voices murmuring in a mix of awe and curiosity.
Eminence Models stood backstage, poised in my designs, their reflections staring back at them from floor-length mirrors. Silk, organza, and meticulously structured corsetry adorned their bodies, the very essence of my brand brought to life. Every bead, every stitch, every sculpted fabric.
“Are you ready, tesoro?”
I turned at the sound of his voice, my breath catching. Ronan stood there, his grayish-blue eyes locking onto mine, and devastatingly handsome, dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him like a second skin. My biggest supporter. The love of my life.
“You’re here.” I moved into him, my lips pressing against his in a kiss that steadied me, anchored me.
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Where else would I be, amore mio?”
A flicker of warmth spread through my chest, momentarily dulling the nerves clenching my stomach. Before I could respond, a coordinator rushed by, headset in place. “Ten minutes!”
Showtime.
We stepped onto the main floor, where the front row was already occupied by the biggest names in fashion.
Editors from Vogue, Essence, and Harper’s Bazaar perched elegantly, pens poised.
Buyers from luxury retailers leaned in, whispering amongst themselves.
Industry legends—designers whose work I had worshiped for years—sat watching, waiting.
The first model stepped onto the runway. Applause swelled like an incoming tide.
Look after look, my collection unfolded before the world. Flowing fabrics caught the light, structured silhouettes glided down the catwalk with effortless grace. The audience barely blinked, mesmerized. My designs were everything I had envisioned—feminine yet powerful, timeless yet fresh.
I felt Ronan’s presence beside me, his fingers brushing against mine in quiet reassurance.
Then, the finale. A gown in rich ivory, embroidered by hand with silver thread and scattered pearls.
The model walked with slow, deliberate steps, letting the masterpiece speak for itself.
When she reached the end of the runway, a breathless silence lingered before the entire venue erupted into applause. I exhaled.
I did it.
As the models walked their final lap, I stepped onto the runway, the sound of my own heels drowned out by the deafening ovation. I felt the burn of tears but blinked them back, lifting my chin. Cameras flashed.
Then came the photo op. My people—my family—surrounded me.
My mother, her eyes glistening with pride. Inaya, my best friend, squeezed my hand so tight it hurt. Francesca, glowing with happiness, stood beside Alejandro—her boyfriend now, which still shocked me.
Dillon, my cousin, grinning like he had been the one to design the collection himself.
Mara, effortlessly chic, her phone already out to capture everything.
And Azzaria—radiant, a hand resting on her growing belly—beaming at me.
The fact that I was designing her wedding dress as a collaboration with Vivienne Westwood still didn’t feel real.
And Ronan. Always Ronan. His arm looped around my waist, his lips pressing against my temple, whispering words only meant for me.
I had dreamed of this moment. But the reality?
The reality was so much sweeter.
The night was winding down, and as I said my goodbyes, Ronan’s fingers laced through mine, his grip warm and steady. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.
We stepped outside, the cool New York air wrapping around us.
A car waited at the curb, and he helped me inside before sliding in beside me.
The drive was quiet, filled with the hum of the city and the comfortable silence between us.
I didn’t know where we were going, but I trusted Ronan implicitly.
When we finally pulled up to an unfamiliar place, he stepped out first and rounded the car to open my door. I tilted my head up at him, exhaustion laced with amusement. “Are you going to carry me? My feet hurt.”
He smirked. “Of course.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Wow, you really are obsessed with me.”
His expression softened. “My sole purpose for breathing is to love you, Nina.”
My heart clenched at his words. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “My feet don’t hurt. I’ll walk.”
He kissed me again, slow and deliberate, before letting me go. We stepped inside, and immediately, the world around me turned dark. I blinked, adjusting to the lack of light. “Ronan?”
Before he could answer, the lights flickered on.
I gasped.
Peonies. Everywhere. Hundreds—no, thousands—in every shade imaginable. Petals covered every surface, their fragrance filling the air, a delicate, lovely scene. It was breathtaking.
I turned to Ronan, my lips parting in disbelief. “What the…”
Then I saw him on one knee.
“Oh my…” My breath hitched as I looked down, my name spelled out in peony petals on the floor. My hand flew to my mouth as my eyes met his.
He took my hand, his fingers warm and steady.
“Nina, we always find our way back to each other. Time has nothing on us. We withstand time. My love for you withstands time.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“Loving you is as natural as breathing, amore mio. There is no life for me that doesn’t include you.
” He exhaled shakily. “You are my beginning and my end. My greatest masterpiece, more exquisite than the finest couture.”
I choked on a sob, my chest tightening.
“You are the rhythm of my heart, the pulse in my veins.” He smiled softly. “Even as a doctor, I have no cure for what you do to me, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want one.”
Tears spilled freely, my makeup long forgotten.
“Will you marry me, tesoro?”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded frantically, my hands trembling. As soon as he stood, I launched myself into his arms, and he held me tightly, his breath warm against my hair. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
Finally, I found my voice. “Ronan, I love you so much. Oh my gosh. I can’t wait to marry you either.”
He pulled back enough to cup my face. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.” His lips curved. “And the most spoiled wife, Mrs. Romano.”
Mrs. Romano.
I barely had time to process the words before he kissed me again, sealing a future I had only ever dreamed of.
Ronan
Four Months Later
I’m going to have a wife.
That thought alone had me grinning like an idiot all week.
Every time Nina looked down at her hand, staring at the ring I spent months perfecting, I felt like the luckiest bastard alive.
She wanted a big wedding? She could have the biggest damn wedding of the century.
I handed her my card and said, Do your worst, tesoro.
But before she could get lost in the chaos of planning, I whisked her away for four months. Four months away from my hospital, my businesses, and her boutique. Four months of only us.
We traveled through Europe, Asia, and the Caribbean.
We watched the Northern Lights in Norway, rode camels through the dunes in Morocco, and dined on a private yacht in the Maldives.
I took her to Kyoto during cherry blossom season, and she swore it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Then we went to St. Lucia, and she changed her mind.
But nothing compared to Jamaica. This was her favorite.
She fell in love with the energy, the food, and the beaches.
I fell in love with the way her face lit up every time she heard dancehall music playing in the streets.
Now, we were at our final stop—Bora Bora.
Nina groaned as she adjusted her sun hat, rolling her eyes at me. “You cannot threaten every man that looks at me, Ronan.”
I sipped my drink, lounging back on the sunbed, completely unbothered. “I can, I have, and I will.”
She let out an exasperated laugh. “You’re impossible.”
I reached for her hand, brushing my thumb over the diamond on her finger. “And you’re mine.”
She tried to act like that didn’t affect her, but I knew her too well. Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled around mine. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me for it.”
She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, and I wasn’t having it. I pulled her fully into my lap, making her squeal. “Ronan!”
“What?” I smirked. “You are my fiancée, tesoro.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. “I still can’t believe you did all of that.”
“The proposal?”
She nodded, playing with the chain around my neck. “It was perfect.”
I cupped her cheek, my voice softer now. “Because it was you. Everything I do is for you, Nina.”
Her deep brown eyes shimmered, and she exhaled a shaky breath. “You’re going to kill me one day, Romano.”
I grinned. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me forever.”
She kissed me again, slower this time, and as the sun set over the endless turquoise water, I knew I’d spend every day proving to her that my love was timeless.
Nina traced the rim of her cocktail glass, her head resting against my shoulder as we lounged by the private pool, the soft sound of waves crashing in the distance.
The night air was warm, the scent of salt and tropical flowers wrapping around us, and the glow from the pool lights bathed her in a soft golden hue.
She sighed, shifting slightly, her fingers toying with mine. “What do you see for our future, Ronan?”
I turned my head, catching the way the moonlight reflected in her dark eyes. “That’s easy.” I tightened my grip on her hand. “Me. You. Travel. Businesses. Love. Kids. A home.”
She lifted her head, a slow smile tugging at her lips. “Bigger than the one we have?”
I smirked. “Much bigger.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not to mention the houses all over the world. Ronan, we already have more homes than we know what to do with.”
I shifted, cupping her cheek as I tilted her face toward mine.
“Those are houses, tesoro. The one I’m talking about will be a home.
” I brushed my thumb along her jaw. “The one we build together. Where we make our kids and raise them. Where we come home to each other every night. Where we argue over nonsense, then make up in ways you love. Where you spend my money because you’re bored.
” I leaned in, brushing my lips over hers.
“Where I kiss you in the kitchen until you forget why you were mad. Where we fill every room with memories. That’s the only place I care about. ”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, her breath catching. “You always say the perfect things.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
She exhaled softly, resting her forehead against mine. “I can’t wait for our wedding. Six months until I marry you.” Her lips curled slightly. “Though, honestly, I already feel like we’re married.”
I ran my fingers through her curls, letting one wrap around my finger. “The wedding is just the celebration. It’s still the same us at the end of the day.”
She hummed, tilting her head as she traced slow patterns over my forearm.
“True. But I still want the big day. I want to walk down that aisle and see you waiting for me. I want the dress, the flowers, the music, all of it.” Her voice softened.
“I want our families there, our friends. I want to dance with you, kiss you in front of everyone, let them all see how much I love you.”
I kissed her temple. “Then you’ll have it. Everything you want, amore mia.”
She grinned. “You say that now, but wait until you see the bill.”
“Spend whatever your heart tells you to.” I tipped her chin up, my gaze steady on hers. “The only thing that matters to me is you.”
Her breath hitched, and she shook her head with a teasing smile. “You’re really trying to make me cry, huh?”
I smirked. “Always.”
She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Ti amo.”
I traced the curve of her lips with my thumb. “Ti amo di più.”
She sighed dramatically, eyes dancing with mischief. “Prove it.”
I smirked. “Gladly.”
Without warning, I wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her into the pool with me.
Water crashed around us, her shriek turning into laughter as we surfaced. She shoved her wet hair out of her face, glaring at me with a faux scowl. “You are impossible!”
I pulled her against me, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. “And you, Mrs. Romano, are stuck with me.”
Her breath caught, her fingers sliding through my soaked hair. “I love the sound of that, Mr. Romano.”
I brushed my nose against hers, and she smiled, her arms tightening around me.
I kissed her, slow and deep, the world fading around us. Because the only thing that mattered was us and the life we were about to build together.