Epilogue
GINNY
One Week Later
I never knew Whitefish could be so fancy.
The restaurant Dylan chose has crystal chandeliers that throw rainbow prisms across the white tablecloths.
Looking around, I see the faces of the muckety-mucks, rich folks usually seen in our newspapers society column.
Fresh roses sit in slim vases on every table, and the even the servers wear black bow ties that make me feel underdressed despite my nicest Christmas sweater.
Charlie Boy’s dressed up too, wearing the sparkly red collar Dylan just gave him as a doggy Christmas present. He doesn’t much like fancy places though. He rests his head against my shoes beneath the table.
A server comes by with the Champagne Dylan had ordered, and holds it up to him for inspection. I’ve seen that kind of thing happen in movies.
Never thought I would in real life. “Are you a wine expert?” I ask.
“I’m an expert in a lot of things,” says Dylan, as the server opens the Champagne bottle with a discreet popping sound.
“None for me,” I tell the server. “I don’t drink.”
"Just one glass," Dylan insists, indicating for the server to pour some into my tall flute-shaped glass.
"I can't drink this whole bottle myself." I watch, fascinated, as the bubbles rise like tiny diamonds.
“Here’s to Nurse Nancy, the woman who saved my life,” says Dylan, raising his glass in a toast. Go on. Taste it.”
I take a small sip and scrunch my nose. "It’s sour! This expensive liquid is what people pay hundreds of dollars for?” The fancy wine fizzes on my tongue, sharp, unfamiliar, and unwelcome.
Just then, a man almost as attractive as Dylan comes by our table.
He’s wearing jeans, but an expensive looking jacket over it and a confident smile.
“Dylan! Someone told me you’re in town.”
Dylan stands up. I watch the two men embrace.
“Ginny, I’d like you to meet my pal Slayer. He lives in my condominium building Manhattan. Slayer, meet Ginny.”
“Nice to meet you, Slayer. Would you like to join us,” I say to be polite.
“Can’t stay. Having lunch with family. But nice to meet you, Ginny. See you back in the Big Apple, Dylan.”
We watch Cameron join his group.
“He seems like a nice guy.”
Dylan nods. “He’s the best. A rockstar too, but since you’re so addicted to country music, you might not know his name. Now take a second sip of your Champagne. You'll get used to it. Everyone does."
"I don't know about that. I'm a simple girl at heart,” I tease, studying Dylan across the table.
His face looks healthy. It almost glows. So different from when I found him at the crash site.
I take a deep breath and ask the question that's kept me up at night.
"So what about you, Mr. Rockstar? Who's the real Dylan behind all those screaming fans and magazine covers?"
He smiles that crooked smile that makes my heart do somersaults.
Then he reaches across the table for my hand.
His fingers are warm and strong against mine, calloused from guitar strings.
Yet gentle in the way they trace little circles on my palm.
I feel those familiar tingles between my thighs.
And then that flutter starts in my chest again. The one I've been feeling ever since he looked at me like I was his personal angel.
“Me? I’m just a simple boy at heart," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "A boy who never thought he'd find something real until he got lost in a blizzard."
I blush. "Now that you're all better, when's your next tour? Your fans must be missing you terribly."
"I've called everything off for a month," he says, his voice dropping to that husky tone that makes my skin tingle. "Something way more important came up."
"What could be more important than your music?" I ask, barely able to breathe as he looks at me with those intense eyes.
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he reaches into his pocket.
I watch as he pulls out a small velvet box.
My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a diamond that catches the chandelier light.
"Ginny," he says, his voice soft but steady, "will you marry me?"
I gasp so loudly that Charlie Boy awakens from his slumber. He puts his paws on my thighs to observe the tableside action. “Is this for real?” I ask in a small voice.
“Of course it is.”
"Yes," I whisper, then louder, "Yes!"
Charlie Boy keeps one paw on my thigh, but puts the other on Dylan’s and lets forth a joyful woof.
Dylan and I embrace over the table, Charlie Boy beneath us.
One big, happy family forever and ever.