Epilogue

Roman

One month later

I lean against the conference table, the grain smooth under my palms, and clear my throat to capture the room’s attention. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a clinical glow on the faces of the committee members. They turn to me with an expectancy that tightens my chest.

“First, I want to thank everyone for their relentless effort,” I begin, allowing a small smile to ease the formality. “I’m thrilled to report that An Evening Under the Stars, our King George House fundraiser, brought in just under half a million dollars.”

A collective gasp sweeps the room like a gust of wind. Dr. Charles Johns, his eyes wide behind round spectacles, looks as if he’s been handed a miracle rather than a figure. “Half a million?” he confirms.

“Well,” I continue, “after expenses, we’re looking at just over four hundred thousand dollars to donate to King George House.” I pause for a moment, watching the impact of the number sink in. “And let’s not forget, the expenses were minimal, thanks to the venue being provided free of charge.”

“Remarkable,” Dr. Johns murmurs, shaking his head as he jots down something in his notebook.

From the corner of my eye, I see Ava flipping her notebook open to a page she’s marked with a tattered ribbon. She stands, the confidence in her posture mirroring the sharp intelligence in her eyes.

“Adding to Roman’s excellent news,” she begins, her voice steady and clear, “our PR efforts paid off substantially.” Her finger skims down the list of names. “We managed to secure extensive press coverage, which led to an additional twenty thousand dollars in small donations directly to King George House.”

“Fantastic work,” Dr. Johns says, nodding appreciatively. A murmur of agreement ripples through the room.

“Thank you,” she replies, her cheeks flushed with a heat that I find endearing. She catches my gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passes between us.

“Truly a team effort,” I say, clapping my hands together once to signal the close of the meeting. “We should all be proud.”

As the committee members stand to file out with satisfied smiles and congratulatory pats on the back, I pack away my notes, my mind already racing ahead to dinner plans with Ava. There’s a new chapter waiting for us, and I’m ready to turn the page.

Then Dr. Johns stands, his chair scraping back with a sound that slices through the dissipating chatter. “Before we all head off,” he says, “I just want to express how monumental this success is for King George House.” He clasps his hands together, leaning forward slightly. “Families from far beyond Vancouver will have a place to stay, free of charge, because of what we’ve accomplished here. A refuge while their loved ones fight their battles in the hospital. It’s more than just money. It’s hope.”

Nods and murmurs fill the room like a gentle tide. Ava’s eyes meet mine across the table, sending warmth spreading through me like sunlight. We did this—together.

“Dr. Johns, your vision for King George House has always been an inspiration,” I say. “We’re honored to help bring it to life.”

“Ah, but without you two—” He gestures to Ava and me.”—this year’s fundraiser might not have set such a high bar.”

As the last of the committee members exit, Dr. Johns approaches, hands tucked into his pockets. “Ava, Roman, might I have a word?”

“Of course, Dr. Johns,” Ava responds, gathering her binder—Cordelia, as she affectionately calls it—and sliding it into her bag.

“This event was nothing short of a triumph,” he says. “And Ava, your organizational prowess paired with your surgical acumen… Well, it’s made me consider something quite seriously.”

Ava tilts her head. “Oh?”

“You’re familiar with our cardiac fellowship program, naturally,” he continues. “I can’t think of anyone better suited to run it than you.”

Her breath hitches, barely audible, but I catch it, the sound of dreams aligning with reality. She’s earned this, every bit of it, and I can’t suppress the grin that threatens to split my face.

“Dr. Johns, that’s…incredible,” she stammers, clearly moved. “I’m honored you’d even consider me.”

“Consider?” Dr. Johns chuckles. “No, I’m quite decided on it. The promotion committee will hear my recommendation, of course, but I believe they’ll see the wisdom in it.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice soft but brimming with emotion. “I won’t let you down.”

“Never thought you would,” he replies with a nod, then disappears out the door.

“Look at you, Dr. Ava Winters,” I tease, stepping closer to share her moment. “Running fellowships, saving lives, and making half a million dollars appear out of thin air.”

“Magic.” She laughs, the sound dancing between us, light and free. “But I couldn’t have pulled any rabbit out of any hat without my former enemy turned… What are we now, Roman?”

“Partners? Allies?” I suggest, closing the distance until we’re inches apart. “Or maybe something more?”

“Definitely something more,” she whispers. Her lips part slightly, inviting a promise, a future, a second chance that began with rivalry and is blossoming into something real, a true partnership.

“Good.” I breathe out because words fail when actions speak so much louder. And right now, all I want is to celebrate this woman who’s captured my heart not once, but twice.

The air is electric as we step out of the hospital. Ava’s hand finds mine, her excitement coursing through her touch. “Roman,” she says, her eyes shining, “I still can’t believe it.”

“I know,” I reply, squeezing her hand. “You’re incredible. Let’s celebrate properly. Nothing is too extravagant for you.” She rolls her eyes, but I’ve planned this night down to the last detail. Nightingale awaits, its ambiance perfect for the evening I have in mind.

We slide into the rideshare that pulls up, and soon we’re making our way toward Coal Harbor.

“Next year’s committee has their work cut out for them.” Ava laughs, flipping through the pages of Cordelia.

“True.” I chuckle. “And they don’t have Julia’s connections or her venue…or you.” The driver takes a turn, and the car sways gently, leaning me into her.

“Imagine trying to top this without all that,” she muses, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey,” I say, tilting her chin up. “They’ll figure it out, just like we did.”

Ava’s laughter fills the car. “True, and I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for Julia to open her home again. She seemed to have such a great time dancing with her husband. And she loved your little sister’s slideshow. I think that alone brought in a lot of money.”

The rideshare pulls to a stop outside Nightingale, and I step out, circling the car to open Ava’s door. Her hand slips into mine as we approach the entrance.

“Ready for an unforgettable night?” I ask, though it’s more of a promise than a question.

“Always,” she answers, but her fingers tremble slightly against my palm.

I wonder if she senses what tonight holds for us. “Then let’s make some memories.”

We’re ushered through Nightingale’s dimly lit ambiance to the chef’s table. There we have a direct view into the open kitchen, where a culinary ballet unfolds with each precise chop and orchestrated sizzle. To our right, a sous chef flames a pan, and the aroma of caramelizing onions wafts over.

“Caesar salad to start?” I suggest to Ava, nodding toward the menu. She agrees, and orders the Salt Spring Island mussels. I opt for the grilled top sirloin with wild mushrooms.

“Can you believe this?” I murmur, watching the chef, who meticulously plates a creation with edible flowers. “It’s like watching a virtuoso at work.”

“Absolutely mesmerizing,” she replies.

I take a moment, inhaling the scent of her perfume mixed with the savory notes in the air and dive into what’s been simmering inside me since the fundraiser ended. “Ava, those five years we were apart, they… They never felt right. I always thought about you.”

She peers up from her glass of water, her brow knitting. “Roman, I told you I didn’t—”

“Think of me? Yeah, you did say that.” I lean forward. “But did you really?”

Her lips part. “Almost daily,” she confesses, and the admission sends a jolt straight through me. This is the honesty I’ve missed—the raw, unfiltered Ava.

“Every woman I dated,” I continue, “I compared to you. None of them even came close to measuring up.”

“Roman,” she whispers.

I reach across, taking her hand in mine, and the world narrows to just the two of us. Our fingers intertwine, and I feel a familiar warmth spread through my body. I lean in closer, and our kiss ignites a fire that’s been dormant for too long, a promise and lust entwined in one perfect moment.

We break apart, breathless. “I love you, Ava,” I say, the words spilling out with an intensity that has been building for years. “I always have, and I always will.”

Her eyes glisten, reflecting the flicker of candlelight as she leans in again, whispering against my lips, “I feel the same way.”

The atmosphere around us buzzes, but the only thing that matters is the woman in front of me—her smile, her touch, her love. It’s a second chance I never thought I’d get, and I’m not wasting a single second of it.

I reach into my pocket, my fingers brushing the velvet box that holds the key to our future.

“Roman, what are you doing?” she asks, her eyes a mix of curiosity and the slightest hint of concern.

I chuckle, a nervous energy coursing through me. “Ava, these past weeks have been…incredible.”

She tilts her head, a familiar gesture that always tugs at my heartstrings. “They have,” she agrees.

“Five years,” I say, feeling each word like a weight lifted off my chest. “Five years apart was torture.” I pause, my heart pounding so loudly I’m convinced she can hear it. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

“Roman…”

I draw in a deep breath and pull out the ring, a simple yet elegant band that I know will suit her perfectly. The candlelight dances across the diamond, casting tiny rainbows on her astonished face. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world stands still. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes widen, a mirror of the surprise in mine when I realized I could never live without her again.

“Is this for real?” she gasps.

“Every bit,” I assure her, the ring between us like a promise. “You’re my everything. You always have been.”

“Yes,” she breathes, and the word is a comfort to all the years lost, all the arguments and misunderstandings that kept us apart. “Yes, Roman, I’ll marry you!”

I slip the ring onto her finger, a perfect fit, and her hand trembles slightly as she extends it, watching the diamond catch the light. She throws her arms around me, and I hold her tight, reveling in the feel of her against me. This is right. This is where we belong.

“I love you,” I murmur into her hair.

“I love you too,” she whispers, pulling away just enough to meet my gaze. “And I can’t believe we get to do this, be together forever.”

“Believe it,” I say with a smile I can’t contain. “Because I’m never letting you go again.”

As the chef places our impeccably arranged dishes before us, I realize that nothing—not the mussels, not the sirloin—can compare to the feast of happiness laid out in my heart. Tonight, we celebrate more than just an event’s success. We celebrate our second chance, and the life we’re about to build together.

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