EPILOGUE

Hannah

6 months later…

"Amore, sono a casa," I call out as I open the door.

Despite having been living in Italy for the past five months, I'm pretty sure I'm still not nailing the pronunciation of 'Honey, I'm home,' in Italian.

"In the kitchen, babe," Culver calls out. "Also, are you alone?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, kicking off my shoes. "I'm alone."

From time to time, I might bring back a friend from art class, which has everything to do with making a new group of friends here and nothing at all to do with showing off Culver's exceptional culinary skills.

But today, it's just me.

"Just checking," he calls out.

I'm intrigued as I walk down the hallway of the chateau we've rented out in the southern Italian city of Positano, headed for the kitchen. "Why were you asking if I was alon?—"

I stop talking.

Stop walking.

Start shaking my head.

What…what am I looking at?

Culver glances over his shoulder, his cheeky smile and dimples on full display.

They're not the only cheeky thing on full display.

My gaze drops to his firm, round, and bare backside. "Why are you wearing an apron? Correction." I lift a finger. "Why are you wearing only an apron?"

He laughs and turns around.

The front of the apron has Italians do it better scrawled across it. He folds his impressive arms across his chest. "You seemed oddly fixated on me wearing an apron last summer. Even said that men in aprons are hot. Remember?"

I take a seat at the table. "I remember."

"I saw this in a window display in town when I was coming back from the market this morning, so I thought I'd surprise you."

"I'm definitely surprised."

"In a good way?"

His gaze meets mine, and I smile. "In a very good way."

"Cool."

His brown eyes sparkle, and I will never take seeing him happy for granted ever again. Not after witnessing him in pain and devastated after what happened at the first game of the preseason last year.

His injury was serious enough on its own, but what made it even worse was that it aggravated the pre-existing labral tear in his left hip, making surgery the only viable option if he wanted to be able to walk pain-free ever again.

The good news is that after his hip arthroscopy, he's no longer in pain, his hip has healed, and he's able to do normal, everyday things.

The bad news is, playing professional hockey isn't one of those normal, everyday things.

His career is officially over.

"Wanna have lunch outside?" he suggests, holding two bowls of something that smells divine.

"Sure."

He hands me the bowls and races ahead to turn on the outdoor heaters since it's March, and despite the clear blue skies and sunshine, the temps hover in the mid-sixties, which for us Californians, is practically arctic. And he's basically naked.

I step out onto a sun-drenched terrace and am greeted by the breathtaking sight of the Tyrrhenian Sea sparkling under the bright Mediterranean sun. Below us, the town of Positano sprawls gracefully along the steep gray cliffs.

The houses and buildings cascade down the hillside in a stunning array of pastel colors—from sun-bleached yellows to vibrant pinks and soothing whites, all stacked haphazardly yet somehow perfectly harmonious. I've spent many hours out here, painting the scene, trying to capture the beauty of it.

We didn't choose to stay in Positano just because it's one of the most scenic places on the Amalfi Coast, half of the Palladino clan still live here, too. It's been great getting to know all of Culver's huge extended family.

Everyone offered for us to stay with them, but we didn't want to be a burden on anyone. Plus, we also wanted our own space and privacy.

When we saw this listing online, we fell in love with it immediately. The agent told us houses like this hardly ever come on the market. We got lucky.

Well, lucky, and privileged to be able to afford it.

Two weeks after Culver's hockey career ended, the money from his grandfather's inheritance landed in his bank account.

It means he's able to shell out the exorbitant fee for a six-month lease so we can stay at a gorgeous place like this.

I carry the bowls to the table, enjoying the cozy heat from the two large heaters he's switched on.

"What did you make?" I ask, sitting down, picking up a short, thick curl of pasta with my fork and inspecting it closely. The sauce is his amazing carbonara, but lately he's really been getting into making his own pasta.

Trust me when I say you have not lived until you've eaten home-made pasta at least once in your life.

"It's called strozzapreti," he informs me with a proud smile. "Fun fact. The name means priest-strangler."

"Really? Why?"

"We learned about it in class yesterday. It dates back to the Council of Trent, which I had to pretend I knew when or what that was."

I giggle. "I have no idea, either."

"From what I gathered, it happened hundreds of years ago. Anyway, the clergymen were apparently really gluttonous and ate so much pasta, they choked on it."

"That's horrible."

He reaches across the table, lifts my hand, and peppers it with soft kisses. "You have nothing to worry about on that front. Eat as much as you like. Just chew carefully."

I grin. "Will do."

We fall into a comfortable, settled silence while we eat.

I can't believe my hot girl summer has become my hot girl life.

I'm with Culver.

We're living in Italy.

I take art classes in the morning.

He joined a culinary school and goes to daily lessons in the afternoons.

In the evenings, we walk around the beautiful town, and most nights, we catch up with either his family or our new circle of friends.

Of course I miss my friends back home. No one could ever take their place—or talk as fast as them—but it's nice to have a circle of good people around us here, too.

And yes, we still make time for the important things like daily pasta, nightly foot rubs, and of course, trashy TV.

We're currently watching an Italian soap opera Amori e Inganni—or Love and Deception in English. It follows the loves and betrayals of two super rich families in Florence. It's so melodramatic, so overacted, so badly scripted, that we're completely addicted.

Some things will never change.

"Did you see the photos Chester posted to the group chat this morning?" Culver asks.

"I did," I say with a smile. I added Culver to the family group chat when we came over here. "He and Hailey are adorable."

They did an art gallery hop yesterday and, by the looks of things, had a wonderful time.

"I love how they celebrate their monthly anniversary," Culver says, his eyes gleaming. "It's so sweet."

"It really is." I set my fork down in my bowl. "And listen, can I just say again?—"

"No, you may not."

"Culver."

"Hannah. No."

"But you said I could keep thanking you until we leave Italy."

"I meant it as a joke."

"Based on your incredibly poor joke history, that wasn't clear."

He makes an exasperated sound. "We are circling back to this, but you've just reminded me. I have a confession to make."

I groan and brace myself for the incoming dad joke. "What is it?"

"I only know twenty-five letters of the alphabet." A slight pause, and his lips twitch. "I don't know y."

Shaking my head, I say, "One of your worst yet."

"And by worst you mean?"

"Worst."

He laughs, and after a few seconds, I cave and do the same.

"Now, let's circle back." His laughter is replaced by seriousness. "Please stop thanking me. You've done it multiple times. So have Chester and Katie."

"Paying for their college education is a big deal," I shoot back. "All three of us appreciate it more than we can say, so forgive us if we'd like to at least try. And while we're at it, thank you for paying to hire staff to look after the flower shop while we're away."

He smiles at me even though he's shaking his head. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"Nope." I spear a piece of pasta onto my fork. "For someone who didn't think they were capable of grand gestures, I have to say, you've really outdone yourself. Prepare for a lot more gratitude to come your way."

"Fine."

We keep eating.

I never expected Culver to contribute financially the way he has. Paying Katie's and Chester's college tuition is an incredible gift and gives them a chance to start their post-college lives without being burdened by a mountain of debt.

And I wouldn't have been able to afford coming here to Italy while keeping the flower shop open at the same time. Culver has generously paid to hire three staff members, plus he's covering all running costs.

After we finish lunch, he heads off to his cooking class, leaving me to putter about.

I clean up the few dishes in the sink.

Read a sweet romcom because I am now officially addicted.

Paint a little in the small studio at the back of the house.

Catch up on all the missed WhatsApp messages from The Fast-Talking Five.

In short, I do all the stuff I never had time to do before when I was too busy working or looking after the twins.

The house is quiet, and despite being thousands of miles from home, I feel…settled.

I still don't know what I want to do with my life. Neither does Culver.

Our lease on this place runs out in a month, and since the owner intends to come back, we have to leave.

To where? No idea.

Okay. That's not entirely true.

I may or may not have drafted a spreadsheet with possibilities of places we might like to visit next.

Yep, I'm still the same list-loving, over-analytical Hannah…but, like, a more chilled-out version.

It's probably the daily pasta.

And the lack of responsibilities.

And being with a man who shoulders the burdens with me, who makes me feel safe and looked-after, and who gives me the freedom and time and space to figure things out. I've grown a lot and am so much more confident in who I am as a person, but there are still many pieces of the Hannah puzzle I've yet to discover.

The same goes for Culver. He's toying with the idea of cooking as a career, but nothing is set in stone.

And that's fine.

Life isn't about having everything figured out.

Life is more about living in the moment and less about trying to control and plan everything down to the last detail.

Not that spreadsheets don't have their place. They do.

But so do feelings, and if it feels good, that's usually a sign to go for it.

I mean, it's worked out pretty well for me.

After Culver gets home, we settle on the couch because we reserve one evening a week as designated couch-potato night so we can get our fix of bad TV.

"So," he says, running his thumb up and down the sole of my foot. "We only have a month left on our lease here."

"Yeah, I know."

"Have you listed any ideas for what you'd like to do next in that secret spreadsheet of yours?"

"What secret spreadsheet?"

He grins. "You realize we share a Google drive?"

"Oh." I knew that, but I'd forgotten that. "Have you peeked?'

"Of course not. I've just seen it there. So…any ideas?"

"I've jotted a few possibilities down. But I…" I adjust how I'm sitting, so Culver stops rubbing my foot for a minute. "There's one thing I think I'd really like to do next."

"What is it?"

"Go home." I stare into his eyes. "Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad? I'd love to go back to Comfort Bay."

"You would?"

He nods. "Yeah. I miss Doyle."

"Be serious."

"I am. I mean, not about Doyle, but as much as I've loved it here, our family, our friends, and our new life awaits us back home. We can always travel and visit more places if we want to later."

Our new life.

Relief sweeps through me. "I'm glad. I feel the same way. This has been wonderful, but I think I'm ready to start…whatever it is I'm going to be starting when we get back."

"Cool. Speaking of starting…" He glances at the TV.

"Oh, right." I switch it on, and our timing is impeccable. The opening credits of Love and Deception have just begun.

Tonight's episode is going to be a good one.

Victor's wife, Alessia, who died in a plane crash, wasn't as dead as everyone thought, and after being held captive by a handsome but cruel prince for six months, she escaped and has returned to Florence. Problem is, Victor moved on and is set to marry Alessia's best friend, who happens to be the sister of the man who orchestrated Alessia's whole disappearance…Look, it makes sense if you've been watching it.

"Oh, I got a few texts from Malik. I'll tell you about them during the commercials," Culver whispers, as I mutter, "Tell me about it during the break."

As the first ad starts, I turn to Culver. "So, Malik?"

"It's not looking good."

He hands me his phone, and I read the messages. All seven of them. Things with Malik and Bianca have gone from bad to worse after she leaked our story to the press.

"Yikes," I say, handing him his phone back.

"They're really on the rocks. I don't know what advice to give him."

I shrug. "The only thing he can do is follow his heart. Love doesn't make sense."

"And neither does Love and Deception." He points at the TV. "It's starting again."

We watch the rest of the episode in riveted—possibly horrified—silence. Of course it ends on a cliffhanger, with Alessia and her best friend mid-brawl. Which means we'll have to tune in next week to find out what happens.

I turn off the TV and scooch over to his side of the couch, lying so that my back is pressed against his front. "This feels nice."

"It really does."

"How did we get so lucky?"

His warm breath hits the back of my neck, and he hugs me tighter. "That's a question I ask myself every day."

We lie in silence for a while until I sigh.

"What?" he asks.

"I was just thinking about the wedding disaster we watched on TV, and it made me think of…"

"Fraser and Evie?" he guesses correctly.

I release another sigh. "Yeah."

The poor guys. They've really had the worst luck ever.

Their first wedding—a winter wonderland-themed extravaganza held in the week between Christmas and New Years—was canceled due to a blizzard, and then their Valentine's Day ceremony had to be called off due to a freaking earthquake.

"I think they should stop trying to get married in the mountains," Culver observes.

"I agree."

"Has Evie said anything about wedding number three?"

"No. They need a bit of a break."

"Fair enough. They'll find a way to make it work."

"I'm sure they will."

Culver chuckles, and I feel the vibration against my back.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well, Fraser and Evie may have had back luck, but their wedding fiascos haven't been a total waste."

I grin. "That's right. Two of our friends did manage to find love."

"Well, almost," Culver clarifies. "Milo and Beth are still very much in their will they or won't they era."

"Oh. They will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they enjoy hating each other too much to not make it work."

"Now that's some twisted logic, but I think you're right."

I turn around so we're facing each other. "Love is a strange beast."

His eyes glimmer in the dim glow of the floor lamp, and he lightly smooths his fingers over my cheeks. "It sure is. I'm so happy I'm with you."

"I am, too." I bite my lip. "Are you really okay with going back home in a month?"

"I am. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"We do one more thing here before we leave. What are your plans this weekend?"

"I should be free," I say, grinning because I am totally free.

"Good." He lifts his chin. "Keep it that way."

Culver

Even after my career ended last year and I received my inheritance from my grandfather, Hannah and I stayed married.

Part of it was because we were busy making plans to come to Italy.

But part of it also came down to our relationship always existing in this strange label-free limbo.

From the moment we became more than friends, we never moved on to the next logical label of girlfriend/boyfriend because by then, we were already married.

And that fake marriage has hung over us the entire time we've been together.

That's always bugged me.

Another thing that bugs me?

As Nonna still likes to remind me whenever I speak to her, I never proposed properly to Hannah.

That changes today.

The wheels of the private jet have just touched down on the tarmac at Troms? Airport Langnes in Norway.

I had to charter a private plane so I could surprise Hannah.

She has no idea where I'm taking her, and I couldn't risk pesky things like flight details and speaker announcements on a commercial flight ruining the surprise.

Besides, for the first time in my life, I'm obscenely wealthy. So if I want to spend ridiculous amounts of money spoiling the people I love, I will.

Buying Ma and Pa the holiday home they've always dreamed about in Aspen…Check.

Sending Nonna and the REDs on a round-the-world three-month luxury cruise…Check.

Paying Chester and Katie's college tuition…Check.

Making sure Hannah is looked after financially for the rest of her life…You betta believe I took care of that, too. My girl has done enough and put everyone first for long enough. I'm going to make sure she's looked after now.

The pilot, crew, and ground staff have been instructed not to reveal our destination.

Again, it's amazing the doors that open for you when you can splash money around. I always knew that the other half lived differently, I just had no idea how differently.

Hannah unbuckles her seat belt. "Can you tell me where we are now?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"But we've landed."

"True." I kiss her on the lips, lingering there a moment longer just because I can. "But we haven't reached our final destination yet."

As we disembark the plane, I hand each of the crew an envelope. I'm pretty sure tipping isn't expected, but after watching all the seasons of Below Deck, it's a nice thing to be able to do.

The customs process is handled privately and quickly—another thing you can pay for— without Hannah being able to deduce our current location. That doesn't stop her looking every which way for clues.

But nope, there's no signage on our route from the airport to the blacked-out SUV waiting for us at the end of the runway. I made sure to check beforehand.

We hop into the car.

Luggage has already been loaded for us, so we take off right away.

"Why can't I see out these windows?" Hannah asks, tapping on the glass.

"Because I asked for mini-curtains to be installed so a certain someone can't look out."

She shakes her head, smiling. "Is all this really necessary?"

"Hey. This is my power play move. My big grand romantic gesture that has nothing to do with trying to outshine a certain other best friend of mine."

"Hey. You know it's not a competition. I love you for you."

"Hey. I know that. And I was kidding about the whole Fraser thing."

Just between you and me, I'm, like, ninety percent kidding about competing with Fraser. Ten percent is male ego and pride, because yeah, I want to give my girl that epic romance novel moment.

She deserves it.

"Just sit back and relax," I tell her. "We've got a two-hour drive ahead of us."

"Fine. I'll relax and look out the windo—oh, that's right. I can't."

"Luckily, I've come prepared." I reach under the seat, pull out a book, and show her.

She lets out a gasp. "I pre-ordered that book."

I smile. "I know."

"I mean, I pre-ordered that book because it's not out for another two months."

"Well, you know, I got my people to call the author's people, and what do you know? She very kindly sent me a signed copy."

Hannah's jaw drops. "She signed it?"

"See for yourself."

I hand her the book, and she squeals in delight, reading the personal message from the author.

"I know she's your favorite, and I have to say, she's such a gem. So sweet and kind."

"This is amazing. Thank you." She plonks a kiss on my forehead. "But for the next two hours, do not disturb me or there will be murder. Enjoy the view. Bye."

I laugh as she flips through to the first chapter and starts reading.

The joke's on her, though. Even with the windows blacked out by curtains, I still have the most amazing view in the world.

Her.

As much as I love not having to worry about money and being in a position to help out financially wherever I can, I think a part of me will always feel not good enough for her.

Hear me out, because that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I actually think it's healthy.

I want what my parents have. When Pa looks at Ma, you can tell how much he adores and worships her.

He doesn't take her for granted. He realizes what he's got, and he expresses his love and appreciation not only through words, but also through his actions.

They'll celebrate their thirty-eighth anniversary this year.

I want the same thing in my relationship with Hannah.

I don't want it growing old or stale. And the way to make that happen is to work on it.

So I'm going to use that niggling little voice in the back of my head telling me I'm not worthy of her to my advantage. Every time I feel not good enough, I'm going to treat her even better.

I glance over at Hannah. A smile curves her lips, and she's completely absorbed in her book.

It's been great seeing her come into herself during the past five months we've been in Italy. For the first time, she has no twins, no work, no responsibilities. She can just do and be whoever she wants to be.

And I can, too.

I've really enjoyed culinary school, and when we get back to Comfort Bay, I'm going to look at studying some more. There are some fantastic five-star restaurants in town.

Who knows? I might transition and become a chef.

Either that or open a laundromat, but I don't love doing laundry that much.

Cooking might be considered an unusual pivot for a pro athlete, but I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'm taking a leaf out of Hannah's book and applying her mantra of if it feels good, do it.

For the past four months, I've been doing online sessions with my therapist from LA.

There was one last thing I needed to get some closure on.

Trevor.

Working with my doctor has helped me realize a few things.

I can't try to live my life for him anymore. That doesn't honor him in the way I hoped it would, and it only ends up with me feeling lost and confused.

I need to live my life for me, and by doing that, I'm truly honoring my brother's memory because that's what I know he'd want—for me to be me, not some version of him that he never got a chance to be.

It's been an interesting journey.

So much of my personality is interwoven with Trevor's. Do I really like Air Jordans, or is that something I picked up from him? Am I naturally an optimistic person, or am I channeling him?

At thirty, it's not an easy thing to unpack.

I also don't have to. At least, not right now and not all at once.

It's not about getting stuck in the past and berating myself or feeling bad for things that have happened. What's done is done. No amount of mental torture or anguish can change that.

It's about the present moment and making decisions—both big and small—that feel right to me.

And it's about the future—specifically, asking one very important question that will set the course for the rest of my life.

I coordinated the timing of the flight and the drive to our private accommodation so that we arrive at a good time, allowing Hannah to experience some of what I hope we get to see a lot of this weekend as soon as she steps out of the van.

Then again, nature can be an unpredictable beast…as Fraser and Evie have found out. No amount of money can guarantee good weather or clear conditions.

We reach our destination.

Hannah closes the book and lets out a contented sigh.

"Is it good?" I check.

She grins. "So good. Her books keep getting better and better. I don't know how she does it."

"I'm glad you like it." I reach over and intertwine my fingers with hers. "Now, I don't know what the weather or conditions are like outside, but I know it will be cold." I hand her a coat, scarf, gloves, and beanie.

I put all my gear on, too, nerves building in my belly, hoping, praying, we'll be blessed with a beautiful sight.

"I'll go first, then I'll call you out, okay?"

She adjusts the beanie on her head. "Okay."

I climb out of the van, grabbing my phone so I can record her reaction when she comes out, and whoaaaaa…

It's…breathtaking. I can't believe it. A hundred times better than I dared hope for.

I get the phone ready to record, and yell out, "You can come out now."

Hannah pulls herself out of the van and lets out a startled cry. "Ohhhhh myyyyy gooooodnessss!"

She starts crying, so I stop recording and race over to her.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

She can't speak, spinning around in a slow circle, trying to take it all in, but it's not easy to take in the majesty of the Northern Lights, especially when they're on full display like this.

The vast, open sky is glowing with undulating waves of green and hints of purple and pink, stretching across the celestial dome.

"This is…magical."

Relieved they're happy tears, I hug her from behind, and we take in the beauty together.

After a few minutes, she spins around so we're standing face-to-face. She brings a gloved hand to my cheek. "I will never forget this for as long as I live."

"Oh yeah? You sure about that?"

"I am." She lifts a brow. "Why?"

I drop to my knee. "Well, you see, there's a question I've been dying to ask you. Properly."

The tears that had stopped start flowing once more, in full force this time.

"Wait, wait," she says, waving her hands in front of her eyes. "I don't want to be a blubbering mess for this."

"You can be a blubbering mess," I say, staring up at her. "I'll love you anyway."

She fans her face faster. "Stop saying romantic things. It's not helping."

I give her a moment to compose herself, and when she's ready, I fish out a small box from the inside of my jacket.

"Hannah, being with you has made me happier than I ever thought was possible. You're my best friend. My confidant. My partner. And now, I'm asking…will you do me the biggest honor of my life and be my wife? For real."

"Of course. Yes."

In normal circumstances, I'd slip Nonna's wedding ring onto Hannah's finger, but she's wearing gloves, and it's freezing cold, so I'm not going to do that.

I get up and show her the ring instead.

"Oh, my gosh. It's beautiful."

"It's Nonna's original ring with a slight addition."

Her eyes snap to me. "Slight addition?"

"Okay. A slight twelve-carat addition. Do you like it?"

She throws her arms around my shoulders. "I love it. And I love you, Culver."

I tighten my embrace, never wanting to let her go, never wanting this moment to end. "I love you, too, baby."

Love isn't one thing. It changes and can evolve gradually.

Sometimes it's being there for someone when they need you.

Other times it's the simple pleasure of watching a movie together.

And sometimes, it's standing in an open field under the Northern Lights, feeling like you're the only two people in the universe.

Curious to find out what's going on with Beth and Milo?

Find out in the sweet, banter-filled, enemies-to-lovers romcom THE ENEMY FACE OFF.