“I went to Jamaica on vacation two years ago,” he continues. “I was just there to party, to live my self-absorbed life, but one day I managed to wander out of the resorts and the tourist traps and wound up in the real Jamaica, where the residents live. I saw poverty, hunger, kids who didn’t have access to education, teenagers who were having kids instead of being kids. And I hate to admit that it was the first time in my life that I really opened my eyes and looked beyond myself.”
Two years ago… I think about the timestamps on his latest Instagram posts, and the year the teen outreach center opened. “You came right home and started doing something about the poverty in your own community,” I marvel. “That’s amazing.”
“With the privilege and wealth I was born into, it’s honestly the least I could do,” he says. “As you heard the other night at dinner, my parents don’t agree with my decision and they think it’s some kind of phase, but I promise you, I was changed on that Jamaica trip.”
“I believe you,” I say. “I’ve only known you a short time, but I’ve known your heart from the beginning.”
Now it’s Prescott’s turn to heave a sigh of relief. “And you don’t think less of me for my past?”
“Of course not,” I say. “What you’re doing now is so much more important—and you’re really changing lives.”
I tell him about Ty coming into the library for the next Ender book, and he breaks into a grin. Then he takes both of my hands in his and says, “There’s one other thing I came here tonight to do.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, arching an eyebrow, my lips curling into a coy smile.
He laughs. “Well, that too… but first…”
He slides off the couch, dropping to one knee with my hands still clasped in his own.
“Prescott…” There goes my breath again. “What are you doing?”
“Brooklyn, I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were incredible, unique, beautiful, a story I wanted to read again and again,” he says, and I can feel tears welling in my eyes—happy ones this time. “My parents’ house wasn’t the only place I went this afternoon. I also went to the Bakers’ house.”
“You did?” I furrow my brow.
“Yes. I asked Cory and Martha for their blessing to propose to you.”
“Really?” I’m reduced to one and two-word answers, feeling lightheaded in the best way.
“They’re your found family, aren’t they?” He asks, and I nod, the first tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I can’t believe you did that for me,” I say, overwhelmed.
“Brooklyn Hart, I love you,” Prescott says, and lets go of one of my hands to retrieve a small jewelry box from his jacket pocket. He opens it, revealing a white gold engagement ring with intricate engravings in the band and a delicate solitaire diamond. “Will you be my family?”
“Oh, Prescott,” I breathe, “I would love to.”
He slides the ring onto my finger, and smiles when we find that it’s a perfect fit. I throw my arms around him and drag him back up onto the couch, wrapping my pajamaed thighs around him.
My man. My family.
Forever.
Epilogue 1
Prescott
One month later…
There are plenty of things that money can’t buy, but I’m happy that my savings from when I worked for my dad have allowed me to give Brooklyn the wedding of her dreams, and make it all come together in just over a month.
As soon as she said yes, I knew I didn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary to call her my wife, to start our life together, so the last few weeks have been a flurry of activity.
We booked the one-screen theater where we had our first date for our wedding venue. One of Brooklyn’s best friends is providing all the flowers, by way of her father-in-law’s elaborate garden. And as soon as the teens at the outreach center found out about the wedding, they jumped right on board helping us make table arrangements, favors, and anything else we needed.
I’m at the theater now, a few hours before the ceremony, directing a small army of volunteers as we set everything up and make the place look exactly how Brooklyn dreamed it would.
Ty and Jaxon are arranging tables in the spacious area at the back of the room, and my parents have actually rolled up their sleeves to help out. This is already the best day of my life—the day I get to marry the woman of my dreams—but if anything could have made it better, it would be the totally unexpected transformation my parents have made over the past month.
After I laid down the law that day, they realized how awful they’d been to Brooklyn and made a point of apologizing to her. If there’s anything rich old-money people value more than their cash, it’s propriety, and they’ve been perfectly polite to her ever since.
But more than that, they’ve also genuinely accepted her, and finally took the time to learn about my work. They’ve met my teens over the course of the wedding planning, and they’re even talking about taking Jaxon in as foster parents since he’s been bouncing around from place to place for quite a while.
I told Brooklyn the other night it’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but she’s just happy for Jaxon. Happy for us. And so am I.
I can hardly wait to see her walking down the aisle toward me. We’re getting married on the small stage in front of the movie screen, and I know without a doubt she’ll be more beautiful than Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, or any other starlet who’s ever graced this screen.
The ceremony is perfect. Brooklyn looks like a classic movie star in a vintage wedding dress, her blonde hair transformed into bouncy ringlets and my grandmother’s engagement ring sparkling
