Epilogue
Mia opens her eyes all at once and the intensity of the blue sky blinds her, though she only blinks, disoriented. Her pulse spikes and fear rushes through her as she hears a muffled voice she's starting to recognize.
"Honey, look at me."
Erin is on her knees beside her, relieved she managed to catch her in time and ease her down before she collapsed completely. They're by the pond that sits barely thirty yards from the house they bought in a part of the Hudson Valley they both fell in love with the moment they saw it.
The house is tucked among the trees as if the forest had grown up around it over decades, folding it into the landscape.
The land slopes gently down to a natural pond ringed with rocks of all shapes, low shrubs, and neatly trimmed grass.
The water is so clear that on still days it mirrors the orange and red crowns of the trees, and what they love most about that spot is that near the bank a few flat stones jut out just enough to sit on while you listen to the water.
Mia tends to spend part of her time at home out there.
She sits by the pond wrapped in one of the oversized hoodies she loves, knees pulled up, a guitar and a notebook beside her.
From there she can see the forest stretching beyond the house, endless, fallen leaves drifting on the water and low mist threading through the trees as dusk starts to settle.
All of it inspires her—and grounds her: the soft sound of the water, the damp smell of the earth after rain, the feeling of being far from everything and close to what she loves most. She wrote almost every song on her last album there, and she already has the first one for the album after that.
The house, low and wide, is built almost entirely of dark stone and weathered wood.
Floor-to-ceiling windows let you see the forest from every room, to the point that it's sometimes hard to tell where the house ends and the woods begin.
There are no busy roads nearby, no close neighbors—only narrow trails that wind between the trees.
Erin is fascinated by those trails. She never gets tired of exploring them, even after nearly two years of living there.
When Mia composes, Erin takes the chance to head out on her own, because she's discovered that walking alone with her thoughts helps her keep perspective, stay rooted in the present, and stop worrying about the future.
Some trails follow creeks; others cut through stretches of forest so dense that almost no light gets in. There are bridges of damp wood, moss-covered stones, and lookouts on the hillsides—the doctor memorizes the way to each one so she can come back later and bring Mia.
"Honey, it's me," Erin says, guiding Mia with her voice.
The singer's eyes fill with tears—something she can't help—but she finally blinks and manages to focus, and her heart rate begins to slow, because if Erin is here, she knows she's safe.
"Are you dizzy? Are you okay?" Erin brushes the hair back from her forehead.
Mia opens her mouth and draws a long, deep breath, as if she'd forgotten to breathe the whole time.
"Mia…"
"Yes," the singer whispers. "I do."
Erin furrows her brow, confused.
"You do what?"
The singer wipes the tears the shock always pulls out of her, then—with some effort—props herself up on her elbows.
"Marry you. Yes, I want to marry you."
Erin's heart stops. For a moment she's forgotten everything else—what they were doing out here and why the singer fainted. It wasn't stress, or built-up exhaustion, or dehydration, which are usually the three most common triggers Erin has identified for her episodes. It was what she said to her.
She's been thinking about this for a couple of months, and today she finally made up her mind.
It's Sunday, Mia has three free months after finishing another tour, and after breakfast, taking advantage of the beautiful day, Erin had suggested they take a walk together.
She took her hand as they stepped outside and led her to a spot by the pond where the two of them sometimes sit when they have something important to talk through.
"I thought we were going for a walk," Mia had said, looking confused.
"We are—that's the whole point. I want to walk with you every day of my life.
" Erin had stood in front of her and slipped a hand into her pocket.
She'd been ready to pull out the small box with the ring she bought three weeks ago at a jewelry store in Boston, where Nell came with her when she finally decided, but she didn't have time, because the moment the singer sensed what was coming, the shock made her dizzy and her eyes went out of focus.
And now here they are—Mia half-lying on the bank of the pond and Erin on her knees beside her, still pale from the scare, because she never gets used to the singer's fainting spells no matter how many times they happen.
She goes very still, looking at Mia and her stunning blue eyes while she processes what she just told her.
"You do?" she asks, flustered, and Mia lets a small smile form.
"If you haven't changed your mind in the seconds it took me to come back to reality, then yes—I want to marry you, Erin Dooley."
The doctor breaks into a smile that empties her lungs, gets to her feet, and helps the singer up.
"Slow," she murmurs, and Mia grabs onto her waist as she finally stands.
"And my ring?" the singer raises an eyebrow, amused by Erin's nerves.
"Oh, shit, right. Hold on—"
She reaches into the side pocket of her pants and, this time, pulls out the small box, opens it, and holds it out to Mia.
"It took me forever to pick it out, but if you don't like it I can—"
"I love it." Mia's smile goes crooked and she holds up her hand, showing that the ring fits, and then—before Erin sees it coming—she jumps onto her and wraps her legs around her waist, the way they do. "Have you thought about a date?" she asks between kisses.
"No, just about asking you," the doctor admits.
Mia kisses her again, giddy.
"It doesn't matter, we'll figure it out. I have to tell Noah, and Nell, and—"
"Nell already knows." Erin shrugs at the singer's surprised look.
"Okay, so then we just have to tell everyone else."
The doctor laughs, and Mia sets her feet back on the ground, pressing herself against Erin's side as Erin wraps an arm around her shoulders and steers her back toward the house.
"Weren't we going for a walk?" the singer protests.
"You just passed out. No walks today."
"What about sex to celebrate the engagement?"
Erin's stomach clenches.
"That either," she says, very much against her will.
Mia mutters under her breath and keeps walking.
"By the way—when someone asks how you proposed, leave out the fainting part, okay?"
Erin stops dead and turns to her, half a smile on her face and one eyebrow raised.
"But that's the best part of the whole story: the unstoppable Mia Wilder goes weak in the knees when her charming girlfriend proposes."
The singer runs a hand through her blond hair with a focused look.
"When you put it that way, it actually sounds pretty good. Maybe I'll write a song about it," she muses, and then she takes Erin's hand and the two of them walk back into the home that only makes sense for either of them when they're together.