Epilogue
Darcy watched as Micah made his way to the podium at the front of the packed ballroom. Thousands of tiny twinkling lights from the overhead chandeliers turned his light gray suit into a work of art, as well as the man himself. He’d cut his hair the way he used to, short in the back and longer on top, waving over his brow.
Darcy fanned herself, suddenly hot despite the short, blue silk dress she was wearing and the air conditioning blasting like an arctic breeze.
Simply being in a room with him did that to her every time, even after a year. She didn’t think he’d ever stop affecting her that way. One of the many reasons she loved him to pieces.
When Sol had reneged on his promises to resign, Micah had bought the paper as he’d promised and turned it into a world-renowned source of news. The last she’d heard, Sol had become an investigative reporter for one of the rag-mags in the States.
She almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“I swear that man of yours gets more handsome every time I see him,” her mom said, a hand cupped over her mouth so her new husband wouldn’t hear. Even Dad had come with his fiancé. Micah had brought them both back into Darcy’s life with his wily ways.
“Before we get to the incredible lineup of auction items the lovely Miss Delacorte arranged for your bidding pleasure tonight,” Micah began, “I’d like to say a few words. First of all, thank you all for coming this evening, and for your continued support of the Coming Home Foundation, with a special shout out to my good friend Dez Falcon for his very generous donation that took us well beyond our fundraising goal. To date, we’ve secured the release of over one hundred victims, who are now recovering with the support of their families and our counselors. It wouldn’t have been possible without your contributions, and without the volunteers who put in countless hours every day to make the magic happen, including the event we’ve been enjoying tonight. The food was to-die-for, as you promised, Cynthia. I think she’s outdone herself this time, don’t you agree?”
The crowd of well-dressed men and women cheered and clapped, some raising their glasses to Cynthia, who wiggled in her chair and waved. After their touchy introduction last year, she and Darcy had become fast friends.
“For the second item on my agenda this evening, I’d like to share some news that not even my Darcy knows about yet.” He fixed his stare on her, a mischievous glint to it. “Join me, lucerito.”
Oh, bloody hell. Aware of every pair of eyes in the room pointing at her, Darcy stood up from the round table she shared with Mags, Cynthia, and Manny, as well as her parents, and went to him. “What are you up to?” she whispered, taking his hand firmly in hers.
He smiled and took the microphone from its stand, turning toward her. “As you all know, Darcy wrote a novel based on the events of my kidnapping in Colombia, which was released last month. It seems there has been a development overnight, and when her agent couldn’t reach Darcy this morning, she called me instead.”
Her heart sprinted out of control as Micah winked.
“We’ve been watching the book rise through the rankings, and I knew it was only a matter of time, but as of this morning, A Warrior Born is a New York Times best seller, and Darcy is very generously donating all of its proceeds to the foundation.”
A mighty cheer went up in the crowd, and she covered her squeal with her hand. Her debut novel, a best seller. She’d never dreamed, even with the sensation his story had received in the past, that the book would have resonated across all demographics of readers. The first of many she’d write, telling the stories of those who’d risen from unimaginable experiences to turn their newfound warriors against the evil they’d survived. And there were many joining the foundation every day, from all over the world, who wanted their voices heard, and the violence stopped.
When the roar died down again, and she’d regained her composure and wiped away happy tears, Micah cleared his throat. Why was his hand shaking?
“I debated long and hard whether this was the right setting for the last, but far from least, item on my agenda this evening. But I decided I wanted to share this moment with you all at the risk that it may not go as I hope.”
Oh, God, what was happening?
Cynthia came and took the microphone from him, holding it near them both, wearing a knowing grin. Micah kept Darcy’s hand secured in his, and with the other, fished something out of his jacket pocket.
“Every day of the last year, I’ve been sure there couldn’t be a better day than the one before. Every day, you prove me wrong. Even through the bad days, through my grumpy moods and misspoken words, you continue to be my bright star, my guiding light. My nightingale.”
Offering a shy smile, he lowered down to one knee and opened a velvet box to reveal a beautiful white gold ring that held a tension-set diamond sparkling in the light. “I know you’re still afraid to believe in forever, so if you’ll accept this ring, it comes with a single promise—I’ll love you until tomorrow. And in the morning, I’ll make you the same promise, and again the next day, and the next, until we’re old and gray, and watching our children splashing in the pool at the cottage with our grandchildren.”
Darcy stared in shock, gripping her throat and fighting the happy tears rushing her lashes. A hush had fallen over the crowd, and on her mind. Although she’d begun to believe they’d make it, his public admission that he wanted to raise a family with her, grow old with her, made it real and large and out there for her to grab onto.
She stopped fighting the tears and threw her arms around his head.
He stood, hugging her close. “Is that a yes? Because it feels like a yes.”
“Yes, you big jerk!” Laughing, she squeezed him harder before letting him take her out to arm’s length. He placed the ring on her finger, and only then did the room ignite with cheers.
Mags arrived, blubbering incoherently as Cynthia hugged Darcy and said, “I’m so planning your wedding.”
“Only if you’ll be my maid of honor.”
As others came to give their well wishes, Darcy realized how much she’d found along with Micah. Friends, new and old family, and a career that gave her complete creative freedom and wouldn’t darken her soul.
No joy had ever been so sweet.
Once everyone had gone back to their seats, Darcy kissed Micah’s cheek and lingered there. “You’re going to pay for making me cry tonight, mister.”
“Mmm, I’m looking forward to it, Mrs. Laine.”
Oh yeah, she liked the sound of that.
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