The chatter from inside dips for an instant like a wave hushed by the tide. I turn, and there she is.
As Sophia lingers in the doorway, the setting sun blazes through her hair. She's wearing a simple blue dress that makes her eyes look endless, and her hands tremble at her sides.
"Hi," she says softly.
I walk toward her, my heart pounding. We meet in the middle of the deck, close enough to touch, neither of us quite daring.
"You came," I say, my voice catching on the words. I've imagined this moment countless times over the past week, but nothing prepared me for the reality of her standing here.
"I almost didn't." Her eyes meet mine, and a storm of emotions swims in their depths. "I had this whole speech prepared about timing and trust, about how maybe we needed more space to figure things out. I rehearsed it a hundred times on the drive here." She lets out a shaky breath. "But then I realized something."
"What?" I take a tentative step toward her, afraid she might disappear if I move too quickly.
"That I'm tired of speeches. Tired of careful words and measured distances." She takes a small step closer, closing the gap between us. "I've spent my whole life learning how to guard my heart, how to keep people at arm's length. But with you…" Her voice cracks. "With you, I don't want to be careful anymore. I don't want to overthink every moment or question every feeling. I just want you—everything about you, even the parts that terrify me."
"Sophia—" I start, but she lifts her hand.
"Please, let me finish." Her voice trembles, but there's determination in her eyes. "You said on that podcast that you were ready to do this right. No more fear. That you wanted to build something real together. And I realized that's what I want, too. But I also want you to trust me, and I want to trust you. Not just the easy moments, but all of it—the challenges, the uncertainties, the beautiful mess of building a life together.”
"I am. I do." I reach for her hand, unable to resist touching her any longer. "Before you, I thought I had it all figured out. I had my rules, my careful boundaries, this life I'd built that felt…safe. But then you walked in, and suddenly, safe wasn't enough anymore. You make me want things I'd convinced myself I could live without. When I see you with Hazel, or catch you looking at me across a room, or feel your hand in mine like this…" I squeeze her fingers gently. "It's like everything I was so afraid of losing becomes worth the risk. Because losing you?" My voice roughens. "That's the only thing I can't survive."
Tears slip down her cheeks, and I feel my eyes burning. "I spent so long protecting myself from exactly this kind ofmoment," she whispers. "From letting someone matter this much. But you and Hazel…you didn't just work your way into my heart—you became my heart. When I was in Vancouver, nothing felt right because home isn't a place anymore. It's wherever you both are."
"Move back home," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "With us."
“Just like that?” she asks, but I can see the yearning in her eyes.
"We'll figure out all the details later. The press, the studio politics, everything else. But I need you with us. Where you belong."
When I kiss her, it feels like coming up for air after being underwater. The applause and cheers from inside barely register—all I know is the warmth of her lips against mine, the way her body fits perfectly against me, the sense of rightness that settles deep in my bones.
The moment stretches, perfect and infinite, until we finally break apart, both a little breathless. She rests her forehead against mine, and I can feel her smile against my lips.
"We should probably join your guests," she murmurs, though she makes no move to pull away.
"They can wait," I say, but I know she's right. Keeping one arm around her waist, I lead her back inside, where our friends wait, their faces reflecting the happiness I feel.
The party flows seamlessly into dinner, with everyone gathered around the long table that's hosted so many meaningful moments over the years. As I stand to address the room, I look around at these people who've become family.My heart pounds steadily in my chest, but at the same time, I feel completely at peace.
I clear my throat, tapping the side of my glass to draw everyone's attention. "Every year, I tell myself I won't ramble on about how much this tradition means to me. And yet…here I am again."
A wave of quiet laughter moves through the room.
"When I started hosting this celebration, I thought it would be a one-time thing—a way to connect with the people who'd helped me on my path. But I underestimated how much I'd come to rely on these nights. This room has no shortage of talent or inspiration, but it takes more than that to thrive. It takes creativity, yes, but it also takes genuine humanity and a willingness to lift each other up when things get tough. Those qualities are rare, and the fact that so many of you have shown up year after year tells me I've found them in you."
I pause, letting my gaze travel the room. "Some of you are here for the first time; some have been coming since that very first dinner. Either way, you matter to me, and you matter to each other. I've always believed the best moments are the ones we share with people who truly see us—and you've shown me time and again how powerful that can be."
I pause, letting that sentiment settle. Then I glance at Sophia, who gazes back with tears in her eyes. "This year, it means more than ever because, tonight, you're not just my inner circle—you're witnesses to one of the best nights of my life. The night I finally got it right."
A smile stretches across my face as I lift my glass higher. "Cheers, everyone."
Sophia threads her fingers through mine as I sit back down at the table.
"To new beginnings!" Jess calls out.
"It's not new; they've already been together," Lucas snaps at Jess. "If anything, it's a continuation of love."
"Whatever, Lucas. Raise your glass."
