Epilogue #3
A sob ripped out of me while I yanked him up and into my arms, murmuring yes over and over as if there was ever any doubt. Suddenly, there was thunderous applause from the kitchen, and someone shouted, “He said yes!”
I laughed into Trace’s kiss. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He cupped the back of my head and pressed happy kisses all over my face. “I made myself wait six months so I wouldn’t look like a gold digger in the media.”
I gaped at him.
“I’m kidding,” he said with a laugh. “Derek said if I didn’t wait a year before proposing, he’d refuse his permission.”
I rolled my eyes. “It definitely hasn’t been a year.”
Trace’s eyes sparkled. “Nope. Because we don’t need their permission.”
He kissed me again as Chickie’s tail thumped an excited rhythm on the old wooden floorboards beside us. When we finally made it into the kitchen, there was a roar of cheers.
The first person waiting at the kitchen door was Papa, eyes bright with tears. “Fucking finally.”
I gave him a big hug, whispering how much I loved him and how grateful I was that he was here to celebrate with us.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said in a teary voice.
I moved next into my dad’s strong arms, his hug familiar and reassuring. “We love you so much. Both of you,” he grunted into my hair. “So fucking proud of you.”
Rosie and Lennon were next, offering big hugs and congratulations.
We moved past them to the rest of my Legacy family and all the uncles and cousins who’d made the trip.
Through it all, Trace kept a hand on me, whether our fingers were tangled together or his palm was a warm, steady presence on my lower back.
He made a habit of claiming me like that in public, at SERA, and at family functions, and I loved every minute of it. When I’d asked him about it once, he’d crinkled his forehead and looked at me in confusion. “Because you’re mine,” he’d said. As if that explained it.
And maybe it did.
It took me a minute to realize that there were a few new faces in the room.
“Brennan?” I said in surprise. “Imani, Lena! Oh my gosh. Thierry and Armand. What are you all doing here?”
I went around the group, giving everyone a hug.
Thierry tapped his beer bottle against the one Rosie had handed me. “Congratulations, old friend. We wouldn’t miss your celebration for the world. Now… should we call you Will or Wolfe or Fletcher?”
Everyone looked eager to learn the answer. “Wolfe,” I said with confidence. “I’m sorry for the confusion.”
He shook his head. “We completely understand. And we all want you to know we’re honored you trusted us enough to share your music and yourself with us on the road. No matter what your name is, you’ll always be one of us, yeah?”
I clinked his bottle again and raised it to my camping friends. Before I could say the words, Lena grinned and said them first. “To what the fuck!”
Everyone with a drink in their hand repeated it, and several of the Marians added a “To Wolfe and Trace” after it.
As we began picking at the finger food that started being passed around, Lena peppered me with questions about Fletcher Coe, even including one I hadn’t been asked before.
“How did you come up with that name?”
I felt Trace’s curiosity from his spot beside me, and my face immediately heated. He already knew the timeline of Fletcher Coe’s music career, that I’d gotten upset at missing him, and it had led me to posting my music online. But I didn’t think I’d ever admitted this. It was too embarrassing.
But tonight, I was feeling brave. Besides, he was locked down already. I even had the ring to prove it. And I knew this little detail would only make him fall that much deeper, even though it would give my siblings roasting content for life.
“It’s the closest I could come to an anagram of Wolfe and Trace,” I said.
The room went quiet for a beat. And then the “awww’s” started, peppered with affectionate laughter.
I buried my face in my hands and felt Trace pull me into his chest and wrap his arms around me.
“Arrow to the heart,” he said in an emotion-rough voice as his lips landed on my head. “Fuck, baby. I was an idiot.”
We’d already gone over it a million times, wishing we’d gotten together sooner and not wasted so much time, but then quickly agreeing that if we had, he wouldn’t have SERA, and I wouldn’t have my music career.
“We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be,” I reminded him before pressing a kiss to his lips.
We stayed like that with our arms around each other and our friends and family surrounding us until the wee hours of the morning.
When I suddenly stopped to wonder why Gabe hadn’t made it.