Epilogue #2
They talked about Mason’s first season. The contract extension. Quinn Events’ new office. The summer schedule they had revised four times because Emmett had added a training camp and Piper had booked two destination weddings.
Ordinary complications.
Chosen ones.
When the food was gone, Piper leaned back on both hands.
“You are nervous.”
“No.”
“You have adjusted your watch seven times.”
“It is loose.”
“I bought it.”
“Then you selected the wrong size.”
Piper stared.
Emmett exhaled.
“Yes.”
Her heartbeat accelerated.
“Yes what?”
“I am nervous.”
“Good.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Good?”
“It means I am not imagining the conspiracy.”
“There is no conspiracy.”
“Beckett was not wearing a cape.”
“I asked him not to.”
“That confirms planning.”
Emmett looked toward the lake.
Piper waited.
He had learned to speak.
She had learned not to fill every silence before he was ready.
Eventually, he looked back at her.
“We have discussed marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Where we might live.”
“Yes.”
“Whether you would change your name.”
“No.”
“You said no.”
“I remember.”
“Children.”
“Eventually.”
“Dogs.”
“Two.”
“Unnecessary.”
“Nonnegotiable.”
“Finances.”
“You tried to make a spreadsheet.”
“It was useful.”
“It had tabs.”
“Organization is not a crime.”
Piper smiled.
Emmett moved closer.
“So this is not a surprise.”
“The location is predictable.”
“The question is not.”
Her breath stopped.
Emmett reached into his pocket.
He did not kneel immediately.
Instead, he held a small black box between both hands and looked at her.
“What do you need?” he asked.
The question had survived every version of them.
Fake.
Frightened.
Public.
Private.
It had become less about helping and more about remembering that love did not remove choice.
Piper looked at the box.
Then at Emmett.
“I need you to ask me.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
The dock creaked beneath him.
Piper looked down.
“That board is unstable.”
“I checked it.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“You inspected the dock before proposing?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
Of course he had.
Emmett opened the box.
The ring was elegant and simple. A pale oval stone set in gold, with no attempt to look larger than Piper’s hand.
He had noticed.
Again.
“Piper Quinn,” he said, “will you marry me?”
She had planned hundreds of proposals.
Rooftops.
Gardens.
Private dining rooms.
One disastrous hot-air balloon.
She knew when music should begin, when photographers should move, and how long people needed before applause interrupted the answer.
There was no music now.
No hidden camera.
No audience.
Only four lanterns, hot chocolate in July, and the man who had spent a year learning that love was not proven by making every decision first.
Piper touched his face.
“Yes.”
Emmett’s eyes closed for one second.
Relief.
Joy.
Something deeper that he would probably describe later using one accurate sentence.
He slid the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
“You measured another ring,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“The silver band you wear on your right hand.”
“When?”
“Date twenty-six.”
“You stole my jewelry during a date?”
“I borrowed it for eleven minutes.”
“That feels criminal.”
“You were discussing linen samples.”
“I notice missing accessories.”
“Eventually.”
Piper laughed.
Emmett stood and kissed her.
Slow.
Certain.
Chosen.
When they separated, Piper held up her hand.
The ring caught the lantern light.
“Tyler knows?”
“No.”
“Beckett?”
“He guessed.”
“Maren?”
“Yes.”
“Griffin?”
“He handled Tyler.”
“Important role.”
Emmett sat beside her again.
Piper leaned against his shoulder.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“We finish date thirty.”
“Then?”
“We tell them.”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“No livestream?”
“No.”
“No surprise announcement?”
“No.”
“No public engagement contract?”
Emmett looked at her. “Do not create one.”
“I plan weddings.”
“Not ours tonight.”
The words warmed her.
Ours.
Not the event.
The life around it.
They returned to the main lawn after sunset.
The event had ended, but no one had left.
Tyler sat on the stage beside a microphone placed several feet beyond his reach. Griffin stood between them.
Beckett had found his cape.
Ava noticed Piper’s hand first.
Her scream crossed the entire lawn.
Every person turned.
Tyler lunged for the microphone.
Griffin caught him by the waistband.
Piper laughed as Emmett led her toward their friends.
Maren hugged her.
Mason appeared with another foam puck.
Piper looked at Emmett.
“I did not authorize a second one,” he said.
Mason held it up.
DATE FOREVER.
Piper pressed one hand to her mouth.
Emmett looked toward Mason’s mother.
She smiled from beside the rink.
“Tablecloths come next,” Mason announced.
Piper crouched beside him.
“Your standards remain excellent.”
He nodded seriously. “Grocery-store flowers still mean somebody forgot.”
“Understood.”
Emmett helped Piper stand.
Tyler continued struggling toward the microphone.
“Can I say one thing?”
“No,” Griffin replied.
“It is historically important.”
“No.”
“The people deserve closure.”
Piper looked toward Emmett.
He raised one eyebrow.
Her choice.
She walked to the stage, took the microphone, and faced the people who had watched the wrong envelope change her life.
Emmett stood beside her.
Not speaking for her.
Not hidden behind her.
Exactly beside.
Piper lifted her left hand.
The crowd erupted.
She waited until the noise settled.
“The bet is officially over,” she said.
Tyler cupped both hands around his mouth.
“WHO WON?”
Piper looked at Emmett.
He smiled.
Then she looked back at the crowd.
“We did.”
The applause rolled across Lake Briar.
No one voted.
No one selected an ending.
No one else got to choose the right guy.
This time, Piper had done it herself.
THE END