“And you really love him?”
I nod, looking past her to find Brody standing on the other side of our patio door. “I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Allen,” he says. “Mr. Allen.” He nods at my father who simply nods back. Then I whisper my goodbyes before hugging my younger half-siblings and promising to call them soon.
“Ready?” Brody smiles as he holds out a hand to take my bags. I give them to him, but not before wrapping my free arm around his neck and hugging him tight.
“I was so scared I was going to lose you,” I say.
“Not me.” He offers a smile then takes my hand in his. “This is the part where I whisk you away to your happily ever after.”
“And where might that be?” I ask, my heart already feeling lighter.
“New York, of course.”
“Tonight?”
He nods. “There’ll be a car at the airport waiting for us.”
“Because you’re aMiller?” I ask, still not understanding what that means.
“Yes.” He laughs. “As in the New York Shipping Company Millers. You’re about to marry into a very wealthy family, Miss. Allen.”
“Wait,” I say, stopping before we reach his car. “Are you…are you asking me to marry you?”
“Should I get down on one knee?” He grins.
“That might be a start.” I laugh as he does exactly that, kneeling down in front of me as he pulls a ring from his pocket.
“Maya. My Maya. Will you be mine for the rest of time? Marry me?”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yes. Of course.” He slips the ring on my finger, a beautiful solitaire on a platinum band. “I love you so much, Brody.”
He stands and pulls me in close. “I love you too, sweetness,” he murmurs, sealing our engagement with a soul-searing kiss. This really is my happily ever after.
Epilogue
Ten years later
Brody
“Children. Assemble,” I call out, smiling as I hear the thumping of feet, running down the hall. “Your mother is about to come downstairs and she’s going to look like a princess. We’re here to oh and ah and make her feel special.”
“Mommy is always special,” Amy, our six-year-old says as she swipes a hand across her nose.
“She is,” I agree. “But tonight is extra special. She’s receiving a special award for all her hard work.”
“That’s ‘cause she’s good with numbers and stuff,” our son, Mickey says. He’s eight and was a bit of a surprise during Maya’s college years, but we made it work. She’s always been too smart to let anything affect her learning. I’m always amazed by her tenacity and brilliance. Tonight, she and her team at Cornell, where she now works, are being awarded the Fields Medal. It’s basically the Nobel prize for mathematicians under forty, and is only awarded once every four years. Maya worked closely on the equation used to maximize stored energy from alternate power sources such as wind and sun. It’s more than doubled our ability to deliver clean energy across the country at a competitive price, shifting the world closer to a time when we don’t need to rely on fossil fuels. I worship this woman’s mind, as well as her body. Which I plan to worshipa lotwhen we get to our hotel room tonight. The dress I surprised her with for tonight is a stunner, and shows off all of her delectable curves.
“That’s right,” I say, ruffling Mickey’s hair as we look to the top of the stairs where my Maya appears, looking as gorgeous as she did the day I met her. So much has happened in our lives since then. Including my change in career and our move across the country. It was a bumpy start, but once we got away from the problems living in LA presented to us, life smoothed over and we got to be a couple without any fear.
While I wish I’d been able to teach and guide young minds in their mathematical journey, I’m more than happy in my new career as the head of research at Cornell University. Which of course means I’m Maya’s boss. Seems we were always destined to be linked in this way, except this time, it isn’t a problem for us to be together.
“You look stunning, sweetness,” I say, holding out a bow-covered toffee apple instead of a flower. It’s become our tradition over the years, one that forever reminds me of how besotted I was the moment I saw her.
“You’re a princess, Mommy!” Amy and Mickey chorus, looking up at their mother with bright, gleaming eyes.
“Thank you, my little angels. I feel like a princess too.”
“You smell good too,” I murmur near her ear. “Good enough to eat.”
