She doesn’t want thiswithout me.
And I don’t want another goddamn day without her.
So I step forward.
The room goes quiet.
“Noel,” I say, voice low but steady. “Stay.”
Her chest rises. Falls. Her eyes shine. “Stay?”
“With me.” I move closer. “I can’t promise you perfect. I can’t take you back to designer penthouses or runway lights. But I can give you?—”
I take her hand.
“Wood-chopping mornings. Firelight nights. A cabin that smells like your cookies and looks like a glitter bomb went off at all times.”
She laughs through a tear.
“And I’ll never,” I add, brushing knuckles over her cheek, “let you feel alone again. Not a day. Not a minute. Not while I’m breathing.”
She trembles. Whispers, “That sounds like everything real.”
I pull her close. “Say yes.”
She doesn’t say it.
Sheactsit.
She jumps into my arms, legs wrapping around my hips, mouth crashing into mine as the crew erupts behind us.
Sandra shouts, “CUT—wait, no—stay on it—this is good TV, people! Keep rolling!”
Someone whistles. Someone else shouts “MARRIED BEFORE NEW YEAR’S!”
And I don’t even care.
Because for the first time in a long goddamn time…
I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
With her.
Epilogue
Noel
One Year Later
I swear to peppermint fudge, if this man touches my stomach one more time, I’m going to strangle him with a garland strand.
“Nash,” I snap, swatting his hand away for the third time this morning, “stop poking the belly like it’s a freaking snow globe.”
He doesn't flinch. Just stares down at me like I’m the one who’s out of line.
“I like when it kicks.”
“It’s not kicking. It’s twisting my bladder into a balloon animal.”
