Page 208 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“To Sophie,” all three of us say.

The room turns.

Every face in the atrium orients toward her, and beside her Evie lets out something between a gasp and an incredulous laugh, one hand flying to Sophie’s arm.

Across the room, I can see every person who has meant something to us.

Kit is crying and laughing at the same time, her glass raised high. Griffin, Nolan, and Declan raise theirs beside her. Celine lifts her glass with an expression of pure delight. Roberto holds his wine aloft, grinning, pride shining in his eyes.

And then there is Rosa, Ethan’s mother, the one who gave me a place I could call home all those years ago. She presses her hand to her heart, her drink forgotten. She’d cried when she met Sophie—silently, her hand pressed to her mouth, the other reaching out to touch Sophie’s face with a gentleness that made Ethan take his glasses off and look away. It reminded me so much of the first time I met her—the same open arms, the same immediate, unconditional warmth, as if loving the people her son loves was the simplest thing in the world.

Our family.

Through the bond, I can feel all of them—Sophie’s joy, bright and overwhelming, Finn’s fierce pride, Ethan’s quiet, steady love—and I know, with absolute certainty, that this is the happiest moment of my life.

The room erupts, and we step off the stage, making our way through the crowd. People are clapping, some of them cheering, and all I can see is her.

Sophie is watching us come to her, champagne glass in hand. She’s smiling, her green eyes bright with tears, and the look on her face—like there is nowhere else she’d rather be—is something I know I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

I reach her first and cup her face in one hand, pressing my lips to her cheek, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. Ethan takes her free hand and brings it to his lips, his gray eyes soft behind his glasses. Finn tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, kisses her temple, and murmurs against her skin, “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Sophie looks at me, at Ethan, at Finn, and then out at the people watching her—seeing her as she is, not the woman she let the world see when she first walked through our doors.

And I watch her do the bravest thing I have ever seen her do.

She reaches up and unwinds the scarf from her throat.

Our marks are there for anyone to see, dark against her skin.

She lifts her glass.

She lets them see her.

Epilogue

Evie

The dress comes off before the front door is fully closed behind me.

I take a little more care with it than I usually would, stepping out of the gold fabric and lifting it over the back of a chair instead of letting it fall to the floor. I liked this dress. I liked wearing it tonight. My heels come off next, abandoned beside the already excessive collection by the wall, and then the small gold hoops that I wear almost every day, which I slip into my jewelry box before I can lose one.

I leave the lights off.

There is enough of the city coming through the windows to see by, blue-white reflections stretching across the floor and catching on the edges of furniture I could navigate blindfolded by now. Four years in this apartment have taught me every corner of it, and I’ve grown used to the silence that fills it.

I like coming home and knowing everything will be exactly where I left it. I like the quiet. I like that there is no one waiting for me, no one asking where I’ve been or when I’ll be back.

I stop in the middle of the living room, still in my underwear, and think about Sophie.

She looked beautiful tonight. Not only because of the green dress or the dark hair loose around her shoulders, but because of those striking green eyes that I’ve only just seen for the first time. Brown contacts, all this time. I don’t know why she wore them, but then again, people have their reasons for not wanting to show the world who they really are. I understand that more than most.

But it wasn’t just that. What stayed with me was her standing there while every person in the room turned to look at her, and the expression on her face when they did—happy, yes, but it was more than that. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

And apparently Max Cavill is capable of romance.

That may have been the second greatest revelation of the evening.

Until tonight, I’d have said he was mostly expensive tailoring and intimidating silences.