Page 149 of The Truth of Us

He doesn’t move, or drop down to one knee; he leans forwards giving me a deep kiss, then opens the box before pulling my left hand to his chest, kissing my ring finger and then slips the ring on.

I gaped at him, stuttering out, “Elliot, this is not how proposals work.”

He chuckles, but he has tears in his eyes when he asks, “Marry me?”

And with the morning light behind him, I see it, that future he talked about with the boy who looks just like us. I see the man that I would choose in every lifetime, who has fought for me, stood by my side. Who continues to prove to me he will always choose me. I smile through the tears that are streaming down into my hairline and say the only thing that makes any sense.

"Yes."

EPILOGUE 1 - ELLIOT

Standing at the altar beneath a sprawling canopy of white wisteria and twinkling fairy lights, I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my cufflinks.

Only this time, I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval, and I certainly wasn’t trying to convince myself I didn’t need the woman walking toward me.

I just needed her to get down this aisle before my heart burst right out of my chest.

The vineyard was intimate, and bathed in the soft, honeyed glow of the late afternoon sun. It was the land Alexander, Oliver, and I had invested in together, a venture that had bloomed into something far greater than business. Surrounding us were only the people who truly mattered: my brothers and their loved ones, Oliver and his parents, Alexander, and the small circle of allies who had stood by us through the storm.

When my parents had attempted to slide back into my life the moment the press caught wind of my engagement to the Montgomery heir, Harper hadn’t even let them reach my orbit. She’d stepped in with that lethal Montgomery authority and shut them down permanently. For the first time in my life, I felt completely protected. That contented feeling, of this is how it should be.

In the months leading up to today, our lives had shifted into a rhythm I wouldn’t trade for the world. My penthouse was long gone, sold to the highest bidder without a single regret. In its place was a brick-and-stone house we’d found together on a quiet, tree-lined street in Chicago. A home filled with sunlight, soft rugs, my suit jackets draped over her chairs, and her books stacked on my nightstand.

And then there was Sophie’s Will.

We’d spent months laying the groundwork for the foundation. The name had come to us one night while reading through Will’s journals by the fire. It was a tribute to both of the people the Montgomerys had lost; a nod to Sophie’s ferocious fight to protect her children, and to Will’s protective heart. Through independent media reviews, journalism ethics scholarships, and legal defense funds for victims of press harassment, Sophie’s Will was already beginning to reshape the landscape. Stepping down as CEO of Northwell Holdings to run it alongside Harper was the single best decision I’d ever made.

A soft acoustic guitar chord hummed through the quiet air, and the entire world narrowed to a single point.

Harper.

My throat tightened so fast I could barely breathe. She looked like a dream, a vision of pure light moving toward me. Her dress was a delicate off-the-shoulder lace that hugged every curve I’d spent countless nights worshipping, trailing into a soft train that brushed over the stone path. Her golden-blonde curls were pinned back loosely, framing a face flushed with soft color, her blue eyes sparkling with a warmth that was entirely mine. The guarded "Harper Lane" mask was gone forever. This was Harper. My Harper.

The ceremony passed in a surreal blur. I barely heard the officiant’s words, barely felt the breeze. My entire universe was bound by the warmth of her hand in mine, the tremble in her fingers, and the silent vows passing between us.

"...and now," the officiant’s voice broke through my daze, resonating across the quiet vineyard, "it is my absolute honor to present to you for the very first time... Mr. and Mrs. Elliot and Harper Montgomery."

A sudden, stunned hush fell over the crowd.

We hadn’t told a single soul. It was a choice we had made privately, a decision to take her name, to carry forward the Montgomery line for the lives lost, for Sophie and Will, and for the future children we would bring into a family built on love instead of legacy. A new generation of Montgomerys, free from toxic traditions, starting fresh right here.

I looked out at our guests. Rowan’s jaw dropped slightly before a rare, genuine smile broke across his face. Lucy gasped, and Caleb let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

Then my eyes landed on Alexander. The formidable titan of industry was openly crying. Tears tracked down his cheeks as he stared at us, his hand pressed over his heart.

Harper squeezed my fingers, and as we took our first steps down the aisle as husband and wife, we stopped right in front of her father.

Alexander reached out, his hands trembling as he took both of ours. "My angel…" he choked out, looking between us with unbridled emotion.

Harper smiled, her voice thick with happy tears as she leaned in. "It was Elliot's idea, Dad."

Alexander looked at me, the traces of lingering grief in his eyes replaced by profound, overwhelming gratitude. He stepped forward, pulling me into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you," Alexander whispered in my ear, his voice breaking. "My son."

The words settled deep into the hollow spaces of my chest, healing wounds I had carried since childhood.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the vineyard transformed into a fairyland of string lights, soft laughter, and clinking glasses. Wine flowed, music echoed through the rows of grapevines, and the night stretched out endlessly.