Epilogue
HOLLY
Six Months Later - June
Will Harrington's launch party is nothing like what I expected from a billionaire who just sold his company.
No ice sculptures, no champagne fountain, no corporate executives in Italian suits.
Instead, there's a rescue dog adoption station in the corner, craft beer from local breweries, and Will himself in jeans and a button-down with—yes—actual dog hair on it.
“This is perfect,” he tells me, surveying the converted warehouse space. “Not a victory lap. Just ... saying thank you to everyone who helped build BarkMatch.”
Will's mom places her hand on his arm. “Now Will, tell me again how this works.”
“Mom, you know this. Like a dating app, but for dog adoption. Matches dogs with potential owners based on compatibility.”
“So like Grindr for dogs?” someone jokes.
“No, definitely not.” Will nearly chokes on a laugh, but recovers quickly. “More like Plenty of Fish but, you know, dogs.”
“And AI,” a party guest adds, looking confused. “How does that even—”
Will grins. “The AI analyzes behavioral patterns from successful adoptions to predict compatibility. It's pretty straightforward—”
“Magic. Got it,” the guest says, wandering off.
Evan finds me, two drinks in hand. “I can't believe you talked him into a signature cocktail called 'The Good Boy.'“
Will laughs. “I resisted, but once again, Holly's a secret genius. People are raving about it.”
It's been nice watching these two reconnect over the months of planning—texting about foundation strategies, what comes next when you have everything but aren't sure what you want.
“I love seeing you two like this,” I say. “The cousin bond back in action. Though imagine my surprise when I found out my mysterious billionaire client was Evan's cousin.”
Will grins. “Technically second cousin? Uncle William was my mom's cousin, but—”
“We just say cousin,” Evan finishes. “Easier.”
“Speaking of family connections,” Will says, stepping aside to make room. Mabel Bellamy joins us, champagne flute in hand, wearing purple silk that compliments her shiny silver hair. “William, darling, spectacular party. Though I do wonder why you didn't use the Ritz's ballroom.”
“Not really my style, Aunt Mabel.”
“No, I suppose not.” Her eyes sharpen. “Holly, dear, I should confess something. When I recommended you to William, I may have had ... ulterior motives.”
“Shocking,” Evan deadpans. “Let me guess: you orchestrated something.”
“I always do, darling. It's my signature move.” She sips her champagne.
“After that unfortunate photo incident, I was concerned you two might drift apart. Careers have been ruined by less.” She takes another sip.
“William needed an event planner. You needed to stay in our circle. I simply ... facilitated.”
“You mean you manipulated,” Evan says.
“Such an ugly word. I prefer 'orchestrated.’” She smiles. “Besides, look how well it worked out. You're engaged, Holly is working with the Durst Group, and William got his perfect party. Everyone wins when I meddle. I'll keep doing it, by the way. Consider yourselves warned.”
“Mabel—”
“Oh, there's the Lieutenant Governor. I must say hello. He owes me a favor from 1987.” She glides off with perfect timing.
Later That Evening
We're home—our apartment, the one we've been slowly making ours—and I'm kicked back on the couch while Evan makes us tea. Through the window, city lights glitter, but I'm thinking about Will heading to small-town quiet.
“It'll be good for him to go home,” Evan says, bringing over two mugs. “He's got a solid support system there. His mom, and Maddie still lives there.”
“Maddie?”
“Yeah, old friend. They were inseparable as kids. Two peas in a pod.”
I'm already reaching for my phone. “Tell me more. Last name? Job? Relationship status?”
Evan looks amused. “Why do you—”
“EVAN. DETAILS.”
“Um, McPhee? Macallan?”
“Well, she's probably not a Victorian nanny or a bottle of whisky, so—there! Found her. Dr. Maddison Macallister. Veterinarian.” I show him the screen. “Single. Owns the only veterinary clinic in Riverside Falls. Goes by Dr. M.”
Evan raises an eyebrow. “Hm. A dog-loving billionaire going home to where his childhood best friend just happens to be a vet.”
“This is not a coincidence.”
“Could be.”
“He sold his company. He's moving home. His childhood best friend is single AND takes care of animals.”
“You're reading into this.”
I give him a look. “Remember when you 'just happened' to need an event planner who 'just happened' to be me?”
“Point taken.”
“Will and Dr. M are going to end up together. Mark my words.”
Evan grabs my face and kisses me, laughing. “You're going to meddle, aren't you?”
“I would never.” Another kiss. “I'm just observing.”
Three Weeks Later
I'm finalizing details for the Durst Foundation's fall gala—their main beneficiary this year is a children's hospital opening a new wing for researching rare pediatric diseases—when my laptop chimes. Emma calling on video.
Her face fills the screen, and then Marie squeezes into frame, still in her ballet clothes, flushed from dancing.
“Aunt Holly! Guess what!”
“What?”
“I got picked for a solo! For the workshop showcase next week!”
The summer workshop—the new studio is hosting intensives now, kids coming from three states away to train with guest teachers.
“That's incredible, sweetheart!”
Emma takes the phone back. “The program's amazing. We've got kids staying in town for the whole week, like ballet camp. Mrs. Kowalski is beside herself with joy.”
“Mrs. K is becoming a regional dance-school powerhouse. Who would have thought?”
Emma grins wickedly. “Well, a little thing called a billionaire sugar daddy helps.”
“EMMA! Someday someone's going to think you're serious with that.”
“Okay, working girl, lighten up. Go enjoy your man and his awesomeness.”
“Will you come to the showcase?” Marie calls out.
“Wouldn't miss it.”
After they hang up, I sit for a moment, reflecting. Six months ago, I didn’t think I deserved any of this. Now Marie has her solo, the studio has its future, I'm planning galas for the Durst Foundation, and Evan—
“Good news?” I look up to find him in my office doorway.
He looks so looks good. Casual in jeans and a henley, working from home today like he does more often now. Sometimes I can't decide which version I like best: boardroom Evan in his perfect suits, or this relaxed version who makes me peppermint mochas in June.
“Marie got a solo. For the workshop showcase.”
“Of course she did.” He comes over, kisses the top of my head. “She's unstoppable.”
My engagement ring catches the light as I reach up to touch his hand. Still getting used to it—the weight, the promise, the reality of choosing each other every day.
Later, we're curled on the couch together when his phone buzzes on the coffee table.
He lifts it. His eyebrows shoot up. He shows me the screen.
Will: Hey, do you remember my friend Maddie, from when we were kids?
We exchange looks. Big eyes, both of us.
Evan: Of course.
Will: Dude. I'm in so much trouble.