Epilogue Two one year a couple weeks later
TY
The first cool breeze of the evening rolls through Old Town just as Vivian steals a bite of my ice cream like she hasn’t spent the last year pretending she doesn’t like mint chocolate chip. Her nose wrinkles immediately.
“Okay, no. That still tastes like frozen toothpaste.”
I grin. “And yet you keep trying it.”
“Because I like to repeat mistakes, obviously.”
“Yet you walk beside me, licking a lavender honey ice cream.”
“It’s artisanal.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “It tastes like a candle.”
She gasps, scandalized, and lightly smacks my arm with the back of her hand while we keep walking down King Street beneath strings of patio lights. One year later, and this city still feels different with her in it. Alive in places I didn’t realize were there before her.
The season starts next week, which means the city is already buzzing. Dominion jerseys in storefront windows. Kids carrying sticks down sidewalks. Sports radio losing their collective minds over preseason predictions.
And beside me is Vivian, still talking with her hands when she’s passionate about something. Still somehow collecting people everywhere she goes.
Her workshops have exploded over the last year, and I’ve gotten a front row seat to witness her growth. The Dominion contracted her to come in before every season for the next five years because apparently professional hockey players now require emotional crafting enrichment.
I glance over at her while she talks about some upcoming jewelry collaboration with Emma and catch myself smiling for absolutely no reason other than she exists.
This woman. This life. Mine.
“Wait.” Her voice trails off suddenly. She slows on the sidewalk, turning slightly as her eyes narrow toward a familiar wrought iron gate tucked beside one of the brick buildings. Then she looks at me.
“This alley,” she announces, pointing dramatically. “Ty McCade, is this the alley?”
A grin pulls at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it. “It is.” I glance toward the alley entrance, trying very hard to act normal considering this place is currently a major part of my plan for the evening. “We had a really good kiss in there.”
She cocks her head to one side. “A really good kiss?”
“It was memorable.”
She looks amused now. “Memorable.”
“You’re being annoying about this.”
“Oh, please.” But she’s grinning as she walks backward toward the gate. “You were obsessed with me.”
“I still am, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” she laughs.
God, she’s beautiful. Streetlights catch the soft waves in her hair. Eyes laughing with her ice cream in one hand while she reaches for the old gate handle with the other.
“I can’t believe this place is still—”
She tugs the handle. Nothing.
Her forehead wrinkles. “Huh.”
She tries again. Locked. “No. That’s not right. We should be able to get in.”
Confused, she turns back toward me, and stops, because I’m no longer standing where she left me.
I’m down on one knee, and the entire world goes silent. Like the city itself pauses with her.
Vivian stares at me. Then at the velvet box in my hand.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispers.
My heart is beating so hard it feels medically concerning. Which is ridiculous considering I make a living performing under pressure.
But this? This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. This matters more.
I let out a nervous, breathy laugh as Vivian makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, her free hand flying to her mouth.
“I had a much smoother speech planned,” I admit. “But right now my brain feels like it’s being hit by a Zamboni.”
She laughs tearfully. This is why I want to be with her forever. She’s still meeting me in every moment exactly where I am.
I open the box fully. The ring catches the glow from the streetlights—elegant and timeless and completely, undeniably Vivian. Her grandmother helped design it.
Actually, correction. Her grandmother lovingly bullied me through the process for the last six months. Turns out jewelry designers are terrifying when they are also emotionally invested.
“I went to your grandmother after Emma’s wedding,” I tell her softly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Because I knew then. Probably before then too, honestly.”
She laughs shakily.
“There’s an inscription inside,” I continue. “Your grandmother said the ring needed one final touch from me.”
Vivian covers her mouth again as I carefully slide the ring from the box so we can look at it together.
One step at a time.
Her entire face crumples. because she knows. She knows what those words mean.
To her. To me. To us. The late-night conversations. The healing.
Her mother slowly rebuilding trust letter by letter, visit by visit. The way Vivian learned that love wasn’t supposed to feel earned through exhaustion.
The way I learned being vulnerable didn’t make me weak. That letting someone in also doesn’t make me a liability. It simply makes me a human having a human experience.
One step at a time.
“I love you,” I say, my voice rough now.
“I love your giant heart and your terrifying organizational skills and the way you somehow turned my teammates into a crafting group.” She laughs through tears.
“I love that you believe people can heal. I love that you stayed in the beginning when I made it hard. And I swear to God, Viv, there has never been a single day with you that hasn’t made my life better. ”
I swallow hard.
“You’re my favorite person. My home. My peace.” I shake my head slightly. “And I don’t want to do another season or another holiday or another ordinary Tuesday without you beside me.”
Her eyes close briefly. Then open again, shining, blinking back tears.
“So…” I say carefully, because suddenly breathing feels difficult. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Her words are immediate before she says it again, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes. Oh my gosh, yes.”
Relief slams into me so hard I nearly fall over. She drops to her knees in front of me just as I slide the ring onto her finger, and the second it’s there, she throws herself at me.
I catch her easily, laughing against her mouth as she kisses me hard enough to nearly knock me backward onto the sidewalk.
Somewhere nearby, people start clapping. Neither of us cares.
“I can’t believe you did this here,” she says against my lips.
“Well technically I tried to do it in the alley.”
She laughs loudly. “But the gate was locked.”
“So I dropped to my knees.” I shrug. “Pivot, right?”
She pushes my hair back and kisses my lips. “You are so dramatic.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
We dissolve into laughter before I pull her to me, holding her close underneath the evening sky. The city keeps moving, hockey season starts soon, and I get to start planning a wedding. With her. With Vivian. My love.
And somewhere between the laughter and the tears and the feeling of her body next to mine, one thing becomes crystal clear:
Every single road in my life was always leading me here.
To this place.
To this moment.
To Vivian.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Thank you so much for reading The Midnight Defensive!