Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Iwoke up on Christmas morning with Micah’s elbow in my ribs and his knee wedged between mine. Romance was alive and well.
I shoved at his arm without opening my eyes. “Move.”
He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a snore and tightened his hold on me instead.
“Micah.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said as he nuzzled my head.
“You’re crushing my spleen.”
“I don’t think your spleen is there.”
Of course he didn’t. Because he taught eight-grade science and apparently even half-conscious threats required peer review.
I opened one eye and found him smiling at me, blonde hair sticking up on one side and glasses nowhere to be found. He was warm and sleepy and unfairly adorable for someone currently cutting off circulation to half my body.
“You don't even know where I'm pointing.”
“I know where your spleen is though,” he said.
“Show-off.”
His smile widened before he leaned in and kissed me, slow and soft and tasting faintly of the peppermint toothpaste he'd used.
A year ago, Christmas morning had come after one of the worst nights of my life. This one started with Micah Nottingham trying to identify my internal organs.
By the time we made it out to the living room, coffee had become a necessity.
Micah started it while I surveyed the tree we'd wedged into the only available corner of my apartment.
Calling it my apartment was becoming increasingly ridiculous.
Micah technically still paid rent on a place across town, but judging by the collection of sweaters draped over my furniture, the telescope beside the window, and the fact that I couldn't remember the last time he'd slept anywhere else, we weren't fooling anyone.
We'd talked about moving. Extensively, actually. We'd looked at houses. I'd made spreadsheets ranking potential homes by everything from property taxes to proximity to good takeout.
There had been one we'd both loved. A little blue house on a quiet street on the edge of town with a porch big enough for summer nights, an office for me, and a backyard Micah claimed had an unobstructed enough view of the southern sky to justify dragging his telescope outside at ungodly hours.
Someone else had gotten it. I'd been more disappointed than I'd admitted.
Micah handed me my coffee and kissed my temple. “Presents?”
“Isn't my presence enough?”
“No.”
“Rude.”
We settled onto the floor beside the tree.
He loved what I got him, which was good because tracking down the signed edition had involved three months, two independent bookstores, and a frankly unreasonable amount of money. I had just finished basking in my victory when he reached behind the tree.
“I have one more.”
“You already got me presents,” I protested.
“I know.”
“Then why is there one more?”
“That's generally how additional presents work.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He smiled. That should have been my first warning.
The box was small. Very small. My stomach dropped so fast I was pretty sure Micah could have used it for a lesson on gravity.
We had talked about marriage in the vague, someday way people did when they knew where something was headed but weren't in any hurry to get there.
I loved him. I loved living with him even though we technically weren't living together.
I loved his stupid telescope and his stupid winks and the way he still occasionally got himself killed in Project Undead because he stopped to read things while zombies were actively trying to eat him.
I could marry him. I probably would marry him. But he could not just—
Micah shifted onto one knee.
“Oh my God.”
His eyebrows went up.
“You'd better not be proposing to me.”
His face changed. Just enough. Shit.
“No. Wait. That's not what I meant.” I sat forward. “I mean, not that I wouldn't. Eventually. Probably. I mean—fuck, Micah, don't look at me like that.”
His mouth twitched. I stopped. “You asshole.”
He lost it. Actually, lost it, folding forward as he laughed.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I didn't know what you were going to think until you started looking like you were about to throw up,” he said with a stupid grin on his face.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
Unfortunately, he had substantial evidence to the contrary.
Still grinning, he held the box out to me. “Open it.”
I glared at him for another second before flipping the lid. There was no ring inside. There was a key. I stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the key. My heart started pounding for an entirely different reason.
“Micah.”
“The blue house came back on the market.”
I stopped breathing.
“The buyers' financing fell through a few weeks ago. Our realtor called me.”
His smile softened.
“I put in an offer.” I stared at him. “And before you murder me, I didn't buy you a house without asking. There are approximately nine thousand pieces of paper you still have to sign before anything is official.”
“Approximately?”
“I'm a scientist. I don't deal in absolutes without sufficient data.”
“You teach thirteen-year-olds how plants reproduce.”
“And I do it extremely well.”
I looked back at the key. My throat tightened. “I can’t believe it’s ours.”
“If you don't want it anymore—”
I launched myself at him.
He barely had time to get his arms around me before I knocked him backward onto the rug.
“I take it you like your present.”
I kissed him.
“That isn't an answer.”
I kissed him again.
“Robin.”
“Do you want me to stop kissing you so I can answer?”
“No.”
“Smart man.”
After we left my parents’ house for Christmas there, Micah was driving across Briar Glenn while I stared suspiciously at his profile. I watched the familiar streets pass outside the window.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t say anything, he just grinned.
Then I realized where we were going.
“Micah.”
He kept his eyes on the road. We turned onto the street.
“Micah.”
“What?”
The blue house appeared at the end of the block.
Christmas lights lined the porch. Christmas lights that absolutely had not been there when we'd toured it.
Neither had Belle's SUV in the driveway.
Or my parents' car parked behind it. Or the familiar piece of shit Ariel insisted was still perfectly drivable despite evidence to the contrary.
I slowly turned my head.
“Micah Nottingham.”
He pulled the car up to the end of the drive and we got out. He guided me up the stairs.
“What did you do?” I asked.
The front door flew open before we'd even made it up the walk.
“Merry Christmas!”
Instead, Ariel came flying out of the house and threw herself at me.
“We got you a house!” Ariel said.
I shook my head but couldn’t do anything about the grin covering my face. “You did not get me a house.”
“We decorated it,” she insisted.
“You broke into my house.”
“Micah gave us a key, that’s hardly breaking in.”
I looked at him. He held up both hands. “Technically, the realtor gave them a key.”
“That is worse.”
Ariel hooked her arm through mine and dragged me toward the porch.
“Come on, Squirt,” I muttered.
She gasped. “You cannot Squirt me when I am throwing you a surprise party.”
“I can Squirt you whenever I want.”
“That sounded weird.”
“Keep walking.”
The house was full. Of course, it was. Mel had commandeered what would eventually be the dining room.
Eleanor and Alex were arguing about where someone had put the tape.
Belle was carrying food into the kitchen while Raph followed behind her with approximately six more bags than any reasonable Christmas gathering required.
Zella was curled into the corner of the couch, looking suspiciously green while insisting to anyone who asked that she was fine.
Maggie stood near the tree talking to my mother.
I think that sight warmed my heart more than anything.
My mom had been looking for a community and to feel needed when she started attending Ascension.
Well, she found both of those things at Lantern House, my mom helped Maggie and they had made Lantern House even more welcoming.
Dad spotted me from across the room and smiled before lifting the beer in his hand in greeting.
“This all seems very illegal. We don’t own the place yet?”
“Since when did things being legal matter to you?” he said as he snaked his arms around my waist. “Plus, once our realtor found out we are close personal friends of ‘The Beast,’ she was willing to do just about anything.”
Raph gave him a nod as he gave a small wave back.
Across the room, Ariel was talking at Van with both hands, apparently incapable of telling a story without reenacting at least half of it.
Van looked deeply unimpressed. Except I knew Van. And I saw the little twitch at the corner of her mouth when Ariel turned away. Interesting. I'd have to file that away for later.
Someone shoved a drink into my hand. Someone else yelled that we needed music.
Mel announced that she was not helping us move anything heavier than a throw pillow unless pizza was provided.
Within ten minutes, everyone was talking over everyone else.
It was chaos. Loud, ridiculous chaos. I stepped away from it for a moment and looked around.
The house was almost completely empty. We didn't have furniture.
There were folding chairs scattered through the living room and food covering a card table someone had set up in the kitchen.
A tiny Christmas tree sat in front of the window, decorated with what looked like a collection of ornaments everyone had brought from home.
We hadn't signed the papers. We hadn't moved a single box. Technically, this wasn't even our house yet. And somehow it was already full.
Micah appeared beside me.
“You okay?”
I leaned into him. “There are like thirty people in my house.”
“Twenty-three.” I looked at him. “I counted.”
“Of course you did.”
His arm came around me. For a while, neither of us said anything.
I watched my mother laugh at something Maggie said.
Dad was talking to Alex. Raph was apparently trying to convince Belle that we needed some absurdly expensive appliance as a housewarming gift while she threatened him with bodily harm.
My team was here. My family was here. Our friends were here. Everything I'd been so certain I was going to lose was standing in one room. Not exactly the way it had been before. Better. Because none of this was built on pretending.
I looked down at the key still curled in my palm.
Micah kissed the side of my head.
“Merry Christmas, Robin.”
I looked up at him.
“For the record, if you ever do the other thing, don't do it on Christmas.”
He went very still. I narrowed my eyes.
“Micah.”
“What?”
“You already bought a ring, didn't you?”
His mouth curved. Then the bastard winked.
Typical.