A Deal With The Devil: Epilogue

Electric stars hang from every lamppost, framed by the black velvet sky.

Snow begins to fall as we climb the church steps, a luminaria on each of them to light our way. It’s perfect. Almost perfect.

God, I wish Hayes was here to see it.

The church is warm and already crowded, the entry full of jostling children dressed like shepherds and angels, anxious about their performance, eager for tomorrow. It’s a night when everyone is happy, and I should be too, given how much better off we are now. Charlotte has bad days but is doing better, Liddie is pregnant again, and my mom is taking marketing classes and figuring out her next steps. They are nearly ready to be left to their own devices, and just in time: My first novel comes out next summer, and the publisher wants a sequel. In the end, Aisling got the same fairytale ending I did—Julian found a way to come through the wall to her. In book two, they’ll return to the other side together.

It would be perfect, if Hayes wasn’t stuck at the airport, waiting out a storm over the Rockies that shows no sign of letting up. It kills me that after so many holidays spent alone, he’s going to spend this one alone too.

I’m not the only one who’s disappointed. Though it took some time to adjust to having a man around the house again—especially one whose jaw falls open in dismay when served staples of my mother’s cooking (including, but not limited to, Hamburger Helper and Crockpot Cheeseburger Pie)—everyone’s grown to love him. Even Sam, who comes out whenever Hayes is here to watch soccer with him and get a home-cooked meal…while ignoring the longing glances from my lovesick younger sister, who could very well end up as one of his students next year.

Hayes has also come to enjoy Kansas—leisurely mornings with coffee and the paper, twilight walks, or a few hours spent reading on the porch. A funny thing happened when he truly began to enjoy his life: he finally realized outrageous sums of money weren’t making him any happier. He’s focusing more on reconstructive surgeries now, and only does house calls once a week—which he will drop entirely when I move to LA this spring. I still haven’t persuaded him to go back to pediatrics, but we have many years ahead.

Drew assures me he’s going to propose any day now, but she’s also convinced Six is still going to settle down with her, so I’d venture to say foresight isn’t her strength.

My mother leads us to a pew. “It’s a shame Hayes couldn’t make it,” she sighs. “I really wanted to see what he got you for Christmas.”

“I already got my present.” He’s agreed to take two weeks off to do Operation Smile next summer, which is all I asked for. Baby steps.

She rolls her eyes. “I’d have asked for jewelry if I were you.” But there’s a hint of a smile on her face and she nudges me with her elbow before she turns to hug my niece.

The service begins. All the little shepherds and angels come forward and Kaitlin scrambles from my lap to her mom’s, at one point standing straight up and shouting, “I can’t see!” just as the wise men approach.

Hayes would laugh if he were here, and then he’d remind me that we won’t have kids unless I can promise they’ll be better behaved than Kaitlin. Given that she’s now lying in the aisle and chanting “boring, boring, boring” at the top of her lungs, it feels like a reasonable demand.

Communion begins, and my mother leans over and asks me to go get the car. “It’s been snowing the whole time,” she says. “I’m worried about my leg on the way back.”

I’m not sure why she can’t ask Alex to do this, but with a sigh, I grab my coat and purse and walk outside.

I stop on the top step and take it all in—the lights in the trees, the fresh blanket of snow, the velvet sky, wishing Hayes could see it. It really is beautiful. There will be other years, I tell myself.

“You’re sure you’ll be able to give all this up?” asks a voice from the darkness.

Hayes. Standing just a few feet to my left.

I launch myself at him, my throat swelling with the urge to cry, hugging him, kissing him, inhaling him in a way he’s come to expect. “You’re here?!”

His arms band tight around me. It’s only been a week since I saw him last, but it’s a long time for us. And he knows exactly how unbearable it’s been because I’ve told him so, every single night. “Of course,” he says, burying his face into my hair. “I wasn’t about to miss our first Christmas together.”

“But how? You were still texting me from the airport two hours ago.”

“Yes. I just didn’t mention the airport was in Dallas,” he says, “although I was sure your mother wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”

“I missed you,” I tell him, laying my head against his chest. I squeeze him tighter, breathing in the smell of his soap and skin. I want him home and undressed. I wonder how much time we have before my family gets back.

“This is pretty spectacular,” he says, nodding at the street stretched out before us. “A rather nice place to propose, even.”

I freeze and pull back just enough to see if he’s joking. His eyes are earnest, a little worried. And then he reaches into the pocket of his coat and withdraws a black velvet box.

He swallows. “I’ve never done this part before. I’m…surprisingly anxious.”

His hair has fallen over his forehead. I reach up and brush it to the side. “I think you have nothing to worry about.”

He catches my hand. “I’ve been in love with you, I think, since the day I saw you reading in the rain as you walked into work,” he says. He presses the box to my palm and covers it with his own. His eyes hold mine, and there’s urgency there, as if nothing in the world matters more than my answer. He swallows. “Marry me. Please marry me.”

I want to tease him about the fact that he’s finally said please, but I can’t. That he wants something this much, and that the thing is me, is nothing short of a miracle. “Yes,” I finally whisper. His face breaks into a wide, relieved smile, and he tugs me against him.

“You’re sure?” he asks. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

“It doesn’t matter what the ring looks like,” I reply.

“Jonathan said the diamond was too big,” he says. “I suggested you quite like big things.”

I laugh shakily. “Did you really just allude to your dick in a marriage proposal?”

“You already said yes,” he says with a quick grin, as he pulls my mouth to his. “You can’t take it back.”

I don’t plan to.