EPILOGUE
Emmett
THIS YEAR, CHRISTMAS is different. I’m not partying on a boat. I’m not on the road for work. I’m not running.
I’m with my family. Although they’ve all gone to bed for the night, Julia and I linger in the warm glow of the farmhouse where I grew up.
The anniversary of my parents’ death is a day I usually hide from. Tonight, I stand in the living room, slow dancing by a crackling fire with the woman of my dreams.
Her arms drape around my neck, mine gripping her waist. We sway wordlessly, and I’m certain that I’m more content than I’ve ever been in my life. More peaceful than I knew possible.
It wasn’t until Julia that I recognized the constant state of anguish that I’d lived with. Every moment, every day. The self-loathing. The feeling of being a burden.
In the past two years, Julia’s steadfast love has all but erased it.
“This was a pretty good Christmas,” she murmurs, hips swinging gently, giving me ideas that are definitely inappropriate for the moment.
“I think it might be one of the best I can remember,” I say, trailing my hand up and down her spine. She’s wearing a baggy, loose-knit sweater that’s all too easy to slip my palm beneath.
“You know, one time,” she murmurs, “when they were filming the show…”
I stiffen. Mentions of filming the show still have that effect on me.
“I slowed down on my way off the property because I could see your oma and opa doing exactly what we’re doing.”
“Foreplay?” I ask with a quirked brow that only gets me a scoff and an eye roll.
“No, dancing. Just like this. The yellow light of the house shone out onto the driveway, and I could mostly just see their silhouettes. But also, the look on your
opa’s face. Pure adoration.”
“Doll, that was definitely foreplay.”
She slaps me on the shoulder with a light laugh. “Stop ruining my story by being horny.”
I groan. “I can’t help it. Have you seen yourself? I’m permanently horny when I’m around you. You don’t even need thorns in your ass. It’s boner time, all the time.”
She laughs again, shaking her head in mock exasperation.
“What I’m saying is I love their love.”
“It’s a special one, I agree. One of the best relationships I’ve ever seen.”
Now the weight in my pocket sits heavy and hot as I feel the moment barreling toward what I’ve been planning for some time now.
“I think we could have that. Still slow dancing in our seventies,” I say.
Her head tips up to meet my eyes. “You do?”
“Yeah. In fact, I know we will.”
She smiles, and, fuck, it looks good on her. Her smile makes me weak in the knees.
“There’s only one problem,” I say, watching her expression morph to one of concern.
“What’s that?” she ventures carefully, and I step away, only deepening the frown lines on her forehead.
“The problem is,” I say, dropping to one knee before her, “I need to be married to you to give it my best effort.”
In one easy motion, I slip a hand into my pocket and pull out a perfect emerald-cut diamond, mounted on a dainty, warm yellow-gold band.
Her eyes widen as she stares back at me, blinking, processing. “Jules, will you please put me out of my misery? I know I said I was worried about shackling you to me, but the truth is, I like having you stuck with me. Would you do me the honor of staying that way for the rest of our lives?”
She reaches a trembling hand forward, flexing her slender fingers as I slip the ring onto her hand. She says nothing but watches in awe as her fingers wiggle, the warm light catching every facet of the diamond, making her gasp.
Then she drops to her knees, meeting me on my level, holding my cheeks the way she did that day she told me to go out there and win for her.
“Emmett, there is no one I’d rather be shackled to. Let’s be stuck together forever.”
I grin back at her. “You want to be a Brandt, doll?”
“Forever.” She smiles and kisses me.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t worry about losing her. I don’t feel
scared to fall in love.
I feel fucking lucky.
