Bridget
EPILOGUE
TEN MONTHS LATER
Helen and Patrick sit opposite me at the wooden table and laugh quietly as I fill their glasses with white wine I picked up from the liquor store.
Isabel and Oscar couldn’t get a sitter, so they’re staying home this evening, but it has become tradition that we do family dinners once a month, and seeing as this is the first family dinner since Elias and I moved in together, we insisted on hosting.
A month or so ago, we found the most perfect craftsman on the outskirts of Briarwood.
It’s in a small residential neighbourhood that is known to be perfect for young families.
Telling our families the wedding was off was difficult, and while my parents were confused and shocked at the news, Helen and Patrick looked on knowingly, telling us our time would come, and slowly everything started to feel like it was falling into place.
Elias and I are stronger than ever, and since we agreed to start over, things have felt more natural and real between the two of us. We date, and even though we live together, we still make time for date nights and time away from the house together.
Helen has been slowly getting worse, but she remains in high spirits and watches from the sidelines with warm smiles as Elias and I navigate our new normal.
The doctors are telling us to expect her health to deteriorate quickly over the next few weeks, and we’re trying to make what might possibly be her last few weeks comfortable and filled with love.
She sits in her wheelchair, wearing a knitted periwinkle jumper that I bought for her at Christmas. “This is lovely wine, dear,” she comments as she smells inside the glass. “Is it French?”
I shake my head as I set the bottle back onto the table. “Italian.”
She hums, taking a drink. Elias comes to the table a moment later carrying two plates before placing them down in front of his parents.
I inhale the aroma of roast chicken in a creamy white wine sauce that’s accompanied by a potato gratin and asparagus.
It was a nice surprise to find out what an avid cook Elias is, but I’m not complaining, seeing as cooking has never really been my strong suit.
“This looks incredible,” I say as he returns with two more plates. He presses a kiss to my temple as he lowers himself into the chair beside mine and shuffles closer until our thighs are pressed together.
His dark hair is grown out and rests against his cheekbones, curling softly in a way that has me constantly wanting to run my fingers through his silky locks.
The tan sweatshirt he’s wearing is bunched up at the elbows and reveals his corded forearms that flex slightly as he reaches across to grab his bottle of beer.
I reach under the table and put my hand on his thigh to give it a squeeze, and when his dark brown eyes meet mine I stare in awe as the flickering light from the candle illuminates his eyes, revealing streaks of honey and amber that swirl around his irises.
“You’re staring,” he whispers as he rests his beer bottle against his mouth, his eyes dropping to my own when I pinch my bottom lip with my teeth. “My parents are right there, stop looking at me like that.”
An amused smile tugs at my lips. “Looking at you like what?”
He swallows his beer and narrows his eyes. “Like you want to have me for dessert.”
I chuckle as I pull my hand from his thigh and grab my knife and fork and cut into a piece of the chicken. “I want you for every single course,” I mumble under my breath.
Elias clears this throat and takes a long drink of his beer, but I catch the sly smirk that briefly passes over his face. The rest of dinner is relaxed, and the four of us fall into a casual conversation around the table as the candles burn and the skies begin to darken.
It’s around nine when Helen and Patrick say their goodbyes, and as soon as Elias shuts the front door, he comes into the living room and sees me lying on the couch, a small smile tugs at his lips before he throws himself on me.
His head rests in the crook of my neck and he inhales the remaining scents of my perfume and sighs.
It’s moments like these where I’m grateful for Elias and everything we’ve built together.
It feels like only yesterday he was saving me from complete humiliation at the charity gala, but so much has happened since then.
They say everything happens for a reason, and I know that no matter how farfetched our situation was, it was what was needed to bring the two of us together.
As Elias snuggles into my chest, a wave of peace overwhelms me and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “What’s wrong?” Elias mumbles, his warm breath fanning over my neck.
I shrug. “I was just thinking about how happy I am.”
I feel his lips curve against my skin as he kisses the tender flesh on my neck. “You make me happy,” he says, and I feel the weight of those words as he squeezes me tightly. “You’re my favourite person and I can’t wait to do life with you.”
Before I can say anything else, he hauls himself off me and stands over me with a shy smile. I push myself into an upright position and tilt my head to the side as he takes in a deep breath. “What are you doing?” I ask.
Elias chuckles softly and shakes his head as he lowers himself to his knees. Gently, he takes my hand in his and brings my clasped hands to his lips where his soft lips connect with the skin there. “Bridget…” he whispers my name like it’s a prayer. “Marry me.”
My ears prick and I feel my cheeks begin to grow hot. “Say that again,” I breathe out.
His molten eyes meet my own and they darken as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Marry me,” he repeats. “For real this time.”
“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.
His shrug is nonchalant, but I can see the tenseness in his shoulders.
“A while. I’ve been trying to decide the best time to ask because I wanted to make it special this time.
I’ve been carrying this goddamn ring around in my pocket for weeks, waiting for the right moment…
but there hasn’t been a moment where it felt right—until now.
” Elias pauses, looking up at me, his gaze searching, and when I nod encouragingly, he continues.
“I want it to feel real, and in this moment everything feels right, like we’re both where we’re meant to be.
Bridget, I want nothing more than to do things right this time, and getting to know you these past months has been the most rewarding experience because I feel like I truly know the real you now. Marry me for real this time, Bridget.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I tease.
“I’m telling you to marry me because I know I want you to be my wife. I’m telling you to marry me because I know we are meant for each other—I know you were made for me. I’m telling you to marry me, but I’m asking you to say yes.”
I take my hands from his and run both of them through his hair, pushing the tufts away from his face. He leans into my touch, his gaze hooded as he looks over my face. I pull his face closer to mine and brush my lips over his. “Yes,” I say against his mouth. “I’ll marry you for real.”
The nervous smile on his lips blossoms into something ethereal as he pulls my engagement ring from the pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t let go of my hand as he slowly slips the silver band down my finger and the two of us look at the familiar ring with watery smiles.
His lips brush against mine softly as I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I can’t wait to be your husband.”
I smile. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”
Elias pulls back and grins. “Yeah?” I nod. “Bridget Cohen,” he says slowly, testing out the sound. Then he groans. “Fuck, that sounds hot.”
A squeal escapes my lips as he lifts me from the couch and into his arms. He carries me upstairs to our bedroom where we spend the night slowly worshipping each others bodies into the early hours of the morning.
Our relationship isn’t flawless, and while we’ve made some mistakes, it feels like we’ve finally found our way. Because, after all, aren’t all relationships just trial and error?
THE END.