45. Epilogue - Orion

" Your quarterly projections, Sir."

I took the folder from Daniel without looking up from my laptop. Six months ago, I would have immediately checked the numbers, hungry for proof that our profits were growing. Now, I was more interested in the email I was writing to Ember about our dinner plans.

"Also, Mr. Hamilton is here," Daniel added. "He says it's urgent."

I glanced up to find Colton leaning in my doorway, grinning. "Very urgent. Life or death, really."

"That will be all, Daniel. Thank you." I waited for my assistant to leave before raising an eyebrow at my friend. "Life or death?"

"Well, death of your bachelor status, maybe." Colton dropped into the chair across from me. "Remmy told me you've been carrying that ring around for two weeks."

My hand automatically went to my pocket where the small box sat. "I'm waiting for the right moment."

"Right. Because Ember strikes me as the type who needs everything to be perfect." He rolled his eyes. "The woman literally started her relationship with you by delivering hate mail."

"That's different. This is different. I want the moment to be perfect for her. A memory she can cherish."

"You’ve got to actually do it for it to become a memory. Right now, it’s a hypothetical that will die with you if you get hit by a bus this afternoon. Is that what you want?"

Before I could answer, Remmy burst in to my office.

What the hell? She hardly ever ? —

"There you are! Mom wants everyone for dinner tonight. No excuses."

"I have work—" I started.

"Nope. Already cleared it with Daniel." She perched on my desk. "He says you've been surprisingly schedule-flexible lately. Something about having a good influence in your life?"

I made a mental note to remind Daniel who signed his paychecks.

"Fine." I straightened my tie. "Dinner."

"With the ring," Remmy added firmly.

"I don't recall asking for a committee to manage my proposal plans."

"Someone has to," Colton said. "Or you'll spend another month waiting for the planets to align or whatever."

I looked between my sister and my best friend, seeing the same determined expression on both faces. "I hate you both."

"No you don't," Remmy said cheerfully. "You're just grumpy because we're right. Now go home and change. Mom's making lasagna."

Hours later, I stood in my mother's kitchen, watching Ember help with the salad. She moved through the space like she belonged there, trading stories with my mom and laughing at Remmy's jokes.

The ring felt heavy in my pocket.

"Just do it already," Colton muttered, passing me on his way to refill his wine. "Before you burst something."

He was right. I'd been overthinking this, just like I overthought everything. But Ember had taught me something about embracing chaos, about letting go of control.

I pulled out the small card I'd been carrying along with the ring. The "Love Notes" logo still made me smile.

"Ember?"

She turned, flour on her cheek from whatever dessert she and my mom were plotting. "Hmm?"

I handed her the note. She read it, eyes widening at the four simple words: "Will you marry me?"

When she looked up, I was on one knee, ring extended.

For once in her life, Ember seemed speechless. Then she started laughing and pulled out her own note and handed it to me.

Orion,

I thought you’d never ask.

But the fact that I wrote this card ahead of time hilariously contradicts that fact, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s funny. I thought I might need to explain that to you, considering your sense of humor is a little stunted after years of stomping around Manhattan like a troll. Oh, and I think it goes without saying that my answer is…”

I looked up from the card and found Ember smiling a huge smile up at me. “Yes!” she shouted, tackling me with a kiss before I could even slide the ring on her finger.

The kitchen erupted in cheers. I heard my mother crying happy tears, Remmy and Colton high-fiving, even Eleanor and Davenport (who had apparently arrived without me noticing) offering congratulations.

But I only had eyes for Ember as I slid the ring onto her finger.

"I love you," she whispered. "Even if you are a ridiculous control freak who needed two weeks to propose."

"Three weeks," I admitted. "And I love you too. Even if you are an agent of chaos who delights in disrupting my carefully ordered life."

"You wouldn't have it any other way."

She was right. The woman who'd started as my nemesis, reading hate notes outside my building, had somehow become everything. She'd made me question my priorities, rearrange my life, and become someone better in the process.

"No," I agreed, pulling her close. "I wouldn't."

Our new custom was to bring Goblin and Catman to dinner with us, and other questionable outings, like a camping trip gone horribly wrong when Goblin thought he saw a mouse (it was a bush).

But now both cats watched us embrace with expressions I could’ve almost sworn were approving.

Almost.

The End