Epilogue
Avery
Sunlight poured gently through the sheer curtains, the early Paris morning turning the entire hotel suite a soft, golden cream.
It was the kind of light that made everything feel hushed and dreamy, like the whole day was stretching itself out just for them.
Avery lay tangled in the sheets, warm from sleep, the faint smell of espresso drifting from somewhere close—then butter, then sugar.
The scent alone made her smile before her eyes even opened.
When she finally blinked herself awake, she turned her head toward the balcony.
Quinn was already up.
The last eight months hadn’t been simple, but they’d chosen them.
The merger had taken shape piece by piece.
Endless video calls, cross-country flights, late-night strategy sessions that bled into sleepy goodnights.
Halo and Lilith became sister companies in every way that mattered, both teams blending slowly, naturally, until the work felt seamless instead of strained.
They split their time between New York and Los Angeles, falling into a bi-coastal rhythm that made the distance feel manageable.
Quinn learned to like red-eye flights. Avery learned to save her best ideas for the weekends they spent tangled together on her couch or Quinn’s balcony.
There were challenges, of course, press, logistics, stubborn departments, the occasional fight when exhaustion got the best of them, but nothing that ever made Avery question the choice they’d made.
If anything, every hurdle only confirmed the same thing: they were better together.
Stronger. Happier. And somewhere along the way, the sharp newness of falling in love had softened into something steadier, deeper, a quiet certainty that wrapped itself around her life like a second heartbeat.
Now, nearly a year after a drunk kiss in a bar changed everything, she was in Paris with the woman she loved, on the last morning of her birthday trip—waking up to a life she still sometimes couldn’t believe was hers.
Quinn stood just outside, leaning one shoulder against the glass, a thin silk robe tied loosely around her waist. Her hair was mussed from the night before, soft, tousled edges that Avery would bet good money were her fault.
In one hand was her coffee, in the other her phone, though she wasn’t really reading it.
She looked out over the city like she was taking it in, memorizing it, letting it seep into her soul.
The Eiffel Tower rose in the distance, its iron lace glinting in the sunlight.
For a long moment, Avery simply watched her, something warm blooming in her chest. Admiration. Awe. Love. The kind that wasn’t sharp or terrifying anymore, just full.
Quinn glanced back and smiled when she noticed Avery was awake. “Bonjour,” she said softly, her voice low and sleep-rough.
Avery stretched in the sheets, toes curling into the warmth. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Quinn murmured, stepping back inside. She set her phone down, came to the edge of the bed, and brushed her fingers along Avery’s cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You never do.” Avery caught her wrist lightly and kissed the inside of it. “But I kind of like finding you like this.”
Quinn’s smile tilted. “Good. Because I brought breakfast.”
She reached toward the small tray on the nightstand, a plate of croissants and pain au chocolat, still warm enough that flakes had scattered onto the sheets. Avery pushed up on her elbows as Quinn tore off a piece of croissant and held it to her lips.
Avery laughed as crumbs sprinkled down her collarbone. “You’re feeding me in bed now? Very French of you.”
“Très romantique,” Quinn said, leaning in to kiss a crumb off Avery’s lower lip. “And practical. You were asleep and adorable, and I didn’t want to wait.”
Avery chewed the buttery bite, savoring the sweetness and Quinn’s closeness all at once. “This is perfect,” she murmured.
Quinn settled beside her, one knee pressed into the mattress, her robe slipping enough for Avery to see the curve of her shoulder, the faint mark she’d left there last night. Avery leaned in and kissed just below it, soft and lingering.
Quinn’s breath hitched. “You keep doing that and breakfast is going to be very short-lived.”
Avery smiled against her skin. “Maybe I want a short breakfast.”
Their mouths met, a lazy kiss that tasted like pastry and warmth and the kind of happiness Avery still sometimes couldn’t believe she got to have.
When they broke apart, Quinn brushed her thumb along Avery’s jaw, eyes soft. Avery sank back against the pillows, her heart steady, grounded.
She looked at Quinn and the thought came unbidden, effortless:
My life is calm now. It’s mine. And she’s part of it.
A year ago, she never would’ve imagined ending a summer in Paris like this—tangled in sheets and sunlight with a woman who loved her out loud. A woman she loved back with a certainty that didn’t scare her anymore.
Quinn nudged the plate closer. “More?”
Avery grinned, tugging her down for another kiss instead. “In a minute.”
The city hummed around them but up here, in this quiet little sunlit pocket of Paris, it felt like they were suspended outside of time.
Just them. Soft morning. Full hearts.
They spent the rest of the morning lingering in bed, trading bites of pastry and kisses that grew lazier by the minute.
But by early afternoon, the pull of the city was too tempting to ignore.
Paris felt like a living heartbeat outside their window, and neither of them wanted to waste a second of it.
The sun hung low as they walked along the Seine, the water catching shifting ribbons of light.
Vendors lined the stone paths, postcards, leather-bound journals, watercolor paintings of the Eiffel Tower.
Avery let her fingers skim the edge of a crate full of antique maps, smiling at the warmth of the air, the way her shoulder brushed Quinn’s every few steps.
Quinn carried a small paper bag with two fresh macarons inside—Avery’s favorites, pistachio and raspberry. She passed one over without a word. Avery took a bite, lips curling as she savored it.
“These eight days went way too fast,” Avery said, nudging her gently.
“They did,” Quinn agreed. “We go home tomorrow.”
Avery sighed softly. Not sad—just full. “It feels like we blinked.”
Quinn slipped her hand into hers, thumb brushing the back of Avery’s knuckles. “It’s almost your birthday,” she said.
Avery smirked. “I’m aware. You’ve been reminding me. Very suspiciously, I might add.”
Quinn’s eyes flicked down toward the river, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth. “Suspicious?”
“Yes,” Avery said, bumping her shoulder again. “You’re being cagey. And you don’t do cagey. You do dramatic corporate reveal energy.”
Quinn’s lips curved into a full smirk. “You’ll see.”
Avery groaned dramatically. “I hate and love when you say that.”
“You love it,” Quinn corrected, tucking a strand of hair behind Avery’s ear. “You love pretending you don’t.”
Avery rolled her eyes—but her cheeks warmed anyway. “Fine. I do.”
They reached the stone railing and paused. Paris stretched out before them. Bridges like lace, the water moving slow and steady beneath them, gold light painting the tops of old buildings. Avery rested her arms on the cool stone, breathing it in.
Quinn stepped behind her, close enough that Avery could feel her warmth at her back. She slid her hands along Avery’s hips, gentle but sure.
“A year ago,” Avery said quietly, eyes still on the river, “I was terrified of losing myself to someone again. Terrified of letting anyone in that deep.” She swallowed softly. “Now… I’ve never felt more like me.”
Quinn didn’t answer right away. She just rested her chin on Avery’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her waist. “That’s because none of you gets lost with me. All of you just gets…seen.”
Avery reached back and cupped Quinn’s cheek, turning her enough to kiss her.
They wandered again when the sun dipped lower, the city shifting toward its evening pulse. By the time they reached the restaurant Quinn had chosen, a small bistro tucked along a quiet street, the sky had gone lavender-blue.
Dinner was soft candlelight, French wine, shared plates, and touches beneath the table that grew increasingly less innocent. Quinn’s foot brushed her calf. Avery’s hand slid up Quinn’s thigh. Quinn’s eyes darkened in that way that made Avery forget what she’d ordered.
By dessert, Quinn leaned in, voice low. “Let’s go.”
Avery didn’t even pretend to argue.
They returned to the hotel wrapped in the hum of Paris at night, the city still awake around them. The moment the door clicked shut, Quinn kissed her—deep, restless, the kind of kiss that made Avery forget the entire world existed outside these walls.
Clothes fell away between breaths. The city lights painted gold across the sheets. Avery’s laughter mixed with Quinn’s quiet groans, her whispered name, the sound of pleasure turning into something reverent.
It started gently, hands learning, mouths lingering, the kind of closeness that felt both familiar and brand new.
Then it shifted, urgency rising, desire spilling over after days of restraint.
Avery’s breath broke beneath her touch. Quinn lost herself against Avery’s throat.
Their bodies moved together like they already knew the language of each other.
Afterward, tangled in warm sheets and each other, Paris glittering outside the window, Avery kissed her softly, her voice a whisper against Quinn’s jaw.
“Best birthday trip ever.”
Quinn smiled against her skin. “Good. I wanted it to be.”
Avery nestled closer, her heart full. Tomorrow they’d fly home.
But right now, in the quiet magic of Paris, there was only them.
And everything they’d built.
Everything still growing.
Everything still to come.
* * *
Quinn
New York had never felt more like home.