Epilogue
ROXIE
Six months later
The Wilson Center was quiet in that early-morning way that felt almost sacred.
The stands were empty, the overhead lights dimmed just enough to cast the pool in soft reflections. The water lay smooth and glassy, broken only by the steady rhythm of Ledger’s strokes as he moved through his warm-up set.
I leaned against the railing, coffee warming my hands, and watched him breathe.
It was a strange thing to notice, something so small, but once I did, I couldn’t unsee it.
Ledger used to swim like he was fighting the water.
Like every lap was something to conquer, every breath stolen quickly before plunging back into effort.
Now, his movements were still powerful, still precise, but calmer.
Intentional. He surfaced when he needed air and took it fully, without rush or guilt, before diving again.
Balanced.
He still trained. Still competed. Still chased goals most people only dreamed of.
But he wasn’t running himself into the ground anymore.
And neither was I.
A year and a half ago, I would’ve been measuring myself by what I’d walked away from—my trust fund, my parents’ expectations, the life that was laid out for me whether I wanted it or not. For a long time, I’d thought losing that safety net meant losing everything.
Turns out, it had given me something better.
Choice.
My social media consulting business wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t an overnight success story. But it was mine. Built client by client, contract by contract. Slow growth. Real growth. The kind that felt earned instead of inherited.
My parents still made their comments—about stability, about optics, about how “interesting” my life choices were—but beneath it now, I could hear something else. A reluctant respect. A flicker of approval they didn’t quite know how to name.
Offering to marry Ledger had been impulsive. Strategic. Terrifying.
But it was still the best decision I’d ever made.
Ledger touched the wall and looked up at me, goggles pushed onto his forehead, water slicking down his shoulders.
“You’re staring,” he called.
I smiled. “You’re pretty.”
He snorted. “You say that every morning.”
“And every morning it’s true.”
He pushed himself out of the pool and grabbed his towel, walking over until he stood in front of me, dripping and unapologetic about it.
“You coming to dinner tonight, wife?” he asked casually, like the word hadn’t once been fake.
“Obviously, husband.”
Neither of us had rushed the conversation about annulment. It had come up once, tentatively, and then quietly disappeared. We didn’t like imagining a version of our lives in which we weren’t connected. Didn’t like the way ex sounded next to our names.
Calling each other wife and husband felt too good to give up.
We didn’t need a timeline or a plan carved in stone. We were learning—slowly, deliberately—how to choose each other in the everyday moments. In shared mornings and casual promises. In showing up.
And somehow, without either of us naming it out loud, that choice had started to feel like home.
Dinner that night was loud and crowded and exactly what I’d come to think of as family.
Talon’s apartment smelled like garlic and something burning just slightly, Livvi perched on the counter pretending not to supervise while absolutely supervising. Ledger squeezed my hand as we walked in, a silent you okay? that I answered with a squeeze back.
Ridge was already there, sitting stiffly at the table.
“Wow.” I dropped into the chair across from him. “You look tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Ledger smirked. “Is this about the transfer swimmer again?”
Ridge scowled. “I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Oh,” I said lightly. “You mean the beautiful brunette I saw at the pool this morning?”
The room went still, and Ridge’s ears turned red.
Livvi’s eyes widened. “Ooh, you saw her?”
“I did.” I nodded. “Hard not to. She’s basically a swim goddess—long dark hair pulled into a messy bun, shoulders like she was carved out of determination and chlorine, and that effortless I belong here confidence.”
Talon let out a low whistle. “Dang, Ridge. I didn’t know Lola was threatening your focus.”
“She’s not,” he shot back.
Ledger leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Sure sounds like it.”
“It’s not like that,” Ridge muttered, glaring into his water glass like it had personally betrayed him. “I don’t let women distract me from my goals.”
Ledger’s smirk widened. “Come on, Ridge. We’ve all seen the way you glance over at her. Admit it—you’re a little distracted.”
Ridge waved a hand like he was swatting flies. “I said it’s nothing.”
“Right,” Ledger said, voice dripping with mock solemnity. “Nothing at all. Totally professional. Absolutely zero distraction and swooning over the transfer swimmer.”
I rolled my eyes. “You swimmers and your distractions.”
Ledger laughed. “Careful, Ridge. That’s how it starts.”
“Yeah,” Talon added. “Next thing you know, you’re pretending you don’t like each other for years.” He looked pointedly at me and Ledger.
Ledger turned toward Talon, eyes glinting. “Let’s not forget that you fell for the same girl twice—once on a screen, once in real life. You were all kinds of distracted.”
Ridge groaned. “I don’t have time for distractions.”
I smiled. “Neither did they. Look how that turned out.”
We all laughed—except Ridge, who just shook his head, annoyed, flustered, and very obviously doomed.
Later, when the food was gone and the teasing softened into easy conversation, Ledger slung an arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss into my hair.
“You happy?” he asked quietly.
I looked around the room—at Talon laughing, Livvi gesturing wildly, Ridge pretending not to be preoccupied—and then back at him.
“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”
We’d probably overstayed our welcome, but there was something about our makeshift family that made it hard to leave, to not feel at ease when we were all together.
As we finally made our way home, hands linked as we walked the short path back to our apartment, Ledger bumped his shoulder into mine.
“So,” he said with a teasing lilt, “marriage of convenience, huh? Who knew it would actually turn out this well?”
I snorted. “Convenient for you, maybe. I still remember you trying to sneak in extra laps to avoid spending time with me.”
He grinned, eyes sparkling in the streetlight. “I call that strategic training.”
“Strategic?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what you call ignoring me while secretly thinking about me the whole time?”
He feigned offense. “Hey! I was professional.”
“Oh, totally professional,” I said, smirking. “Professional at pretending you didn’t like me, professional at pretending you didn’t like me stealing your fries, professional at being insufferable in every possible way.” I nudged him playfully.
Ledger laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer. “You loved it.”
“Loved it?” I echoed. “You’re lucky I didn’t drown you in your own pool.”
“See?” He pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “That’s the part I miss most about our fake-arguing days. The passion. The drama.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. “Fake arguing, huh? Guess it became real pretty quick.”
He chuckled, fingers gently tugging a piece of my hair. “Yeah, somehow pretending to hate you turned into wanting to annoy you forever.”
I shook my head, smiling at the memory. “Forever is a long time.”
“Not long enough,” he murmured, tilting his head so our foreheads touched. “I plan on bothering you for decades.”
I leaned into him, letting the warmth of him settle around me. “Then I guess I’d better get used to it.”
Ledger grinned against my hair. “And I’ll keep calling you my wife. Don’t worry, I’m addicted to it too.”
I laughed, tugging him closer. “Well, Mr. Husband, don’t forget—I plan to argue with you, mock you, and occasionally steal your dessert. Married life isn’t all romance, you know.”
“Good,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across my lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We paused as our apartment building came into view. The outside buzzed around us, soft and distant. All that mattered was the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his smile, the steady rhythm of our breathing—together, unhurried, and real.
I pressed another kiss to his cheek, then to his jaw, then finally, slowly, our lips met again. And I realized it didn’t matter how long we’d faked it or how messy the beginning had been or how unpredictable the future might get.
We had each other.
And right now, that was more than enough.
With Ledger by my side, I was finally free to breathe again.
Thank you for reading!