Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Go to your fan,” I tell him, and he just smiles at me.
I look around, and something isn’t right. Matthew is standing beside the entrance where I came from with Zara under one arm and my mother under the other while she hugs Allison. My father is on the other side of Allison. I look at them and then look back at Viktor, and then finally I hear the crowd going nuts, and I see why.
He is on one knee in front of me, and the tears just come now, pouring down my cheeks. “Zoe Stone,” he starts, and I put my hand in front of my mouth. “You are the shining light in a dark world. You have shown me love like no other, and I don’t want to know what life is like without you in it.” He pulls out a square box from his pants. “I want to wake up with you forever. I want to go to bed with you forever. I want you to wear my ring so everyone knows that you’re mine.”
“I am yours,” I tell him through sobs.
“I want to have babies with you that look exactly like you. I want to hold your hand when you are happy and hold you up when you are sad. Will you do me the honor of being my forever?” He opens the ring box, and I don’t even look at it. I look at no one but him. I grab his face in my hands and kiss his lips.
“Yes,” I tell him, and then all of a sudden, a microphone is right next to us.
“She said yes!” Viktor’s voice fills the arena, and the crowd goes wild. He gets up and picks me up around my waist. “Forever.”
He places me down on my feet and slips my ring on my finger. “This is so wild,” I tell him smiling and then look over at my family who stands there cheering us on. “But it’s us,” I tell him and wrap my hands around his waist.
Epilogue Two
Viktor
Six years later
“I’m home!” I yell, walking into the house and slamming the door behind me. I walk through the house we bought in Long Island in the same neighborhood as everyone else. “Hello,” I say at the base of the stairs and hear nothing. I look up and hanging in the middle of the wall is a picture of Zoe and me on our wedding day.
Two months after I proposed to her, we got married quietly with only our family there. My parents and sister also came out, but it was a bigger deal having her family there. Neither of us wanted a big wedding, or if she did, she didn’t say, so we got married in her parents’ backyard.
I walk through the house, looking at all the little things we’ve done over the past five years. On top of the fireplace is the letter I wrote to her framed and engraved with one day at a time June 1st.
I walk to the back door, and when I see them, a smile automatically fills my face. “I’m home,” I say out to the yard. The three of them look back at the door, and my son runs to me. His black hair flying back, his dark blue eyes staring right at me, but what gets me most of all is the smile on his face. It’s always there, always. He was our little honeymoon present. Nine months after we got married, my wife gave birth to him. Lucky for us, I was home, and we were on hiatus that week. After eight hours of torture for me and for Zoe, they placed him into my arms.
“Daddy’s home,” he says, throwing himself into my arms. “You were gone forever.”
I kiss his neck. “It’s been two hours since I went over to Uncle Matthew’s house,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“I wanted to go,” he tells and then squirms out of my hands. “He loves me the most.”
“I bet he does,” I tell him, and he runs away to the clubhouse that Matthew had built for him. You see, we decided to name him Matthew, but we call him Matt so as not to mess everyone up. But when we introduced him to Matthew, he took him in his arms, and they’ve had a bond ever since.
“Where are my girls?” I say, walking to them as my daughter sits in the sandbox. She looks up at me, and she is the stamp of her mother. A little mini me and now I know how Matthew felt all the times I kissed Zoe in front of him. “What are you building, princess?” I ask her, using her nickname. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what we named her because it was not even an option: Zara.