Epilogue
Sawyer
Five Years Later
The ring has been burning a hole in my desk drawer for three weeks. My palms sweat every time I think about it.
I’ve planned this moment a dozen different ways. At the coffee shop where we first really talked. At the hill where we had our first official date. But every scenario feels too small for what Alice means to me.
She’s in the kitchen of her grandmother’s house—our house now, since I moved in a few years ago—making breakfast while I get ready for work. Five years of mornings like this, and I still can’t believe this is my life.
“You’re going to be late,” she calls from the kitchen.
“Coming,” I call back, slipping the ring box into my jacket pocket.
I find her at the stove, flipping pancakes in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. The kitchen smells like coffee and vanilla. My breath catches. Her hair is messy from sleep, and she’s humming under her breath. This ordinary moment in the house where she found safety feels perfect.
“Hey,” I say, wrapping my arms around her from behind.
“Hey yourself.” She leans back against me. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than okay.”
The pancakes are perfectly golden, just like everything else Alice touches. We eat breakfast together at the kitchen table where she used to sit alone, where her grandmother taught her to be strong, where we’ve shared thousands of meals over the years.
“Diane asked if we’re bringing anything tonight,” she says, cutting her pancakes into precise squares.
“Just ourselves. Though she did mention she’s making that apple pie you like.”
“Your mom spoils me.”
“She loves you. Almost as much as I do.”
Alice smiles, that soft smile that still makes my chest tight after all this time. “Almost?”
“Almost.”
After breakfast, I kiss her goodbye and head to the station. As sergeant, my days are different now—more administrative work, supervising officers, managing schedules. But I love it. The responsibility, the challenge, the chance to actually make a difference in how things are done.
“Morning, Sarge,” Chris says when I walk in. He still grins every time he calls me that.
“Morning. What do we have today?”
"Quiet night. Two noise complaints, one domestic that resolved peacefully, and Mrs. Henderson called about teenagers on her lawn again." He glances at his notes. "Oh, and Officer Bennett asked about the training schedule for next month."
"Wesley? Tell him to check with Rodriguez in scheduling."
"Will do."
"How's he doing, by the way?"
"Bennett? Good. Still green, but eager to learn. Reminds me of myself when I first started." Chris grins.
"That eager, huh?"
He turns to leave and looks back at me. "Exactly."
But I can’t focus on work today. Every time I try to read a report or review a case file, my hand drifts to the ring box in my pocket. By lunch, I’ve convinced myself that proposing tonight is either the best idea I’ve ever had or the worst.
At three o’clock, I can’t take it anymore. I call my mom.
“Cozy Cup, this is Diane.”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Sawyer! What’s wrong? You never call during the day.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just… I need to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“Do you think Alice is ready? For marriage, I mean?”
My heart pounds while I wait for her answer.
There’s a pause, then my mother’s delighted laughter. “Sawyer Edwards, are you calling to ask my permission to propose to your girlfriend?”
“Maybe.”
“Honey, that girl has been ready to marry you since pretty much when you started dating her. The real question is, are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready since the day I met her.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know. I want it to be perfect.”
“It will be perfect because it’s you asking her. She doesn’t care about the setting or the speech, Sawyer. She cares about you.”
She's right. Alice has never needed grand gestures.
After I hang up, I feel steadier. Mom’s right. This doesn’t have to be complicated.
The rest of my shift passes in a blur. By six o’clock, I’m driving home with sweaty palms and a ring box that feels like it weighs fifty pounds. My hands shake on the steering wheel.
The ring box burns in my pocket as I head for the door. Tonight, I'm asking Alice Campbell to become Alice Edwards.
Alice
Something’s wrong with Sawyer.
My stomach twists with worry. He’s been distracted all evening, barely touching Mom’s apple pie, fidgeting with his coffee cup, checking his phone every few minutes. I keep catching him staring at me with this intense expression that makes me wonder if I have something on my face.
“You okay?” I ask when we’re cleaning up after dinner.
“Fine. Just tired.”
But he doesn’t seem tired. He seems nervous. Anxious, even.
“Sawyer, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because you’ve been acting weird all evening. Did something happen at work?”
“No, work was fine.”
Diane watches us from across the kitchen, a knowing smile on her face that makes me even more confused.
“Want to go for a walk?” Sawyer asks suddenly. “Get some fresh air?”
It’s October, and the evening air is crisp with the promise of winter. We walk through our neighborhood hand in hand, past houses with jack-o’-lanterns on their porches and leaves scattered across their lawns.
“Want to walk to our spot?” Sawyer asks.
I nod, following his lead.
It takes fifteen minutes to walk to the overlook where we had our first real date five years ago, where we decided to try being together for real. The town spreads out below us, lights twinkling in the darkness.
“Remember our first time here?” Sawyer asks.
“When we got takeout and talked about everything?”
“When I knew for sure I was falling for you.”
Sawyer takes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he says.
“About what?”
“About us. About our future. About how much my life has changed since I met you.”
My heart starts beating faster. This conversation feels different, more serious than our usual talks about the future.
“I spent three years after Lila died barely existing. Going through the motions, not believing I deserved anything good. Then five years ago, I walked into that bank and everything changed.”
I push my glasses up my nose nervously. “Sawyer…”
“You made me remember what it felt like to hope for something. To want something more than just getting through each day.”
He stands up suddenly, and for a moment I think he’s going to start pacing. Instead, he turns to face me and drops to one knee.
My breath catches. My hands fly to my mouth.
“Alice Marie Campbell,” he says, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. His hands are shaking. “You saved my life in every way a person can be saved. You made me believe in love again, in myself again, in the possibility of a future worth having.”
The box opens, and even in the dim streetlight, the ring sparkles. It's perfect. Simple and elegant, exactly what I would have chosen.
“Will you marry me?”
For a moment, I can't speak. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but stare at this man who's offering me everything I never knew I wanted.
Five years ago, I was running from Lance, terrified and alone. Now I'm here, safe and loved and about to marry the man who saved me.
“Yes,” I whisper, then louder, “Yes, of course yes.”
My vision blurs with tears and I have to wipe my tears to see the ring clearly. He slides the ring onto my finger with shaking hands, then stands and pulls me into his arms. When he kisses me, I taste tears—mine or his, I’m not sure. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking.
“I love you,” he says against my lips.
“I love you too.”
We hold each other at the overlook where we got engaged, and I think about the journey that brought us here.
The fear, the uncertainty, the threats we faced together.
The way he protected me, the way I learned to protect myself, the way we built something beautiful out of something that started so dark.
“Are you happy?” he asks.
I look at the ring on my finger, at this man I'm going to marry, at the life we've built together. “I’m more than happy. I’m safe.”
“Good. Because you always will be. For the rest of our lives, Alice, you’ll be safe with me.”
“And you’ll be safe with me.”
We both will be. Finally, completely, safe.
THE END