Epilogue
Cillian
Four months later
Connemara, Ireland
The view over the Atlantic is nothing short of grand. Jagged cliffs plunge into a sea so vibrant it looks painted, the surf thundering against stone while the wind carries salt and the distant, lonely cries of gulls.
Margot and I are leaned back against the sun-warmed rocks in the kind of slow, unhurried quiet I didn't know my life had room for. We're high above the Connemara coast, with not another soul in sight except for a few wandering sheep.
She's got her knees pulled up, staring out at the horizon, completely at ease, and I find myself watching her instead of the view, the way I have this entire trip.
We've been road tripping through Ireland for the last two weeks, wandering between little hotels and seaside B the heat has finally surrendered, leaving the valley washed in a soft, low glow.
We texted the news to everyone the moment we landed, his family, my parents, and the group chat, which exploded instantly and has not stopped since.
Isabelle's response alone was fourteen messages and a voice note.
Somewhere on this week's to-do list is figuring out how to get everyone in one place to celebrate properly.
But tonight, it's just dinner at Solstice, early evening, the estate quiet, the gravel damp underfoot. I glance at my ring again, vintage-inspired, a large oval diamond set low on a slim gold band, glittering every time my hand moves.
Cillian glances down at me, amused. "Sabrina and I did well, then?"
"I'd say you're both talented. I’m officially drafting her for all future high-stakes shopping," I laugh, and he breaks into a wide grin.
"Aye, well, she was a relentless taskmaster," he says, chuckling.
“I’ll have you know she inspected every ring in the greater Bay Area, made me nervous in front of three separate jewelers, and ended up settling on the one that I'd originally picked.
I'm fairly certain the whole performance was a sophisticated play for a birthday hint for herself. "
"Oh, you should have known better than to bring a professional opportunist along." I tsk at him, shaking my head at the rookie error. "So much to learn. At this rate she's going to get that moped she's after, and you'll be the one explaining it to my mother."
He laughs, pinching my side, and I squeal, twisting away and then right back as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. Even now it sends a spark straight through me, this being his, him being mine, out loud, in front of the whole world.
We round the corner of the main building toward the terrace, and I frown. "God, where is everyone right now? It's like a ghost town out here."
"That is odd," he says, with a look that's a touch too innocent.
Also, I now register that the parking lot was suspiciously full for a quiet night, and that Carol waved me off shift with what I'd clocked at the time as unusual enthusiasm.
"Cillian O'Rourke. Are you up to something?"
He only grins, looking maddeningly unbothered. "Now, Ace. I had the impression you liked surprises."
"You know perfectly well I like planning surprises. Receiving them is entirely different."
Truthfully, he knows me so well by now that he's the one person I don't mind a surprise from, since his somehow always turn out exactly how I'd want them. But his ego doesn't need to hear that when he's already looking this smug.
"Come on," he says, laughing, his hand steady on my back as he ushers me toward the stone steps that lead up to the terrace.
Music reaches me first, then voices, and I climb the last few steps, come around the doors, and freeze, my heart vaulting into my throat.