A tear slipped down Ella’s cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. “I miss him,” she said.
“I know,” I said.
“And if he is angry, or disappointed,” Saul said, “we’ll be here. To support you.”
“Always,” Jason said.
Ella smiled, even through her tears. “Thank you all.” She sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is a happy night!”
“It is,” Darren agreed.
Suddenly, I remembered something. “Oh, and there’s something else,” I said. Ella looked at me, wide-eyed.
“Something more than a proposal?” she asked.
I nodded. “We bought a house,” I said. “Big enough for all eight of us. We don’t have to share that tiny apartment anymore.”
Ella sat straight up. “You did what?” she said.
“Bought a house.” I grinned.
Ella scrambled over me, reaching for her clothes. “Where? What does it look like? Can we go see it?”
“It’s like 2 a.m.,” I reminded her, but of course, in the end, we went. None of us could ever deny her anything.
Epilogue
Ella
I took a deep breath, eying my cell phone on the table in front of me as if it were a sleeping rattlesnake. My dad’s photo glowed on the screen waiting for me to get up the nerve to press the button that would call him.
I had been dodging his calls for weeks, knowing that he would realize something was up the moment he heard my voice, and I’d never been able to lie to him. Instead, I’d texted him, sending the occasional selfie so he wouldn’t start to worry that I’d been kidnapped. But that couldn’t go on forever. Sooner or later, I would need to bite the bullet and call him.
I missed him, desperately, of course, but I was also terrified. Once I told him, once he knew about the Prince Charmings, there was no going back. This could change everything.
Standing behind me, Grant squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.
I nodded, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “Maybe,” I said.
Grant ran his fingers through my hair. “He loves you,” he reminded me. “You’ll feel better when he knows.”
He was right. I knew he was right. Either way it played out, I would feel better when I no longer had to keep lying to my dad.
Grant began to massage my shoulders, his fingers digging in to the tension I held there until I felt myself begin to relax. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. I shook my head.
“I just need to do this,” I said.
“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Grant offered. “For moral support?”
I smiled gratefully, but shook my head. “Thank you,” I said. “But I think I need to do this on my own.”
Grant hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. I nodded.
“Just . . . don’t go very far,” I said. “I may need you . . . after.”
Grant squeezed my shoulders. “I’ll be right outside,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will,” I assured him. He bent down to kiss me, and I wound my fingers through his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of him. I reminded myself that I was doing the right thing, that I loved Grant and all of the others, couldn’t imagine trying to live the rest of my life without them. Surely my dad would understand that, and if he didn’t . . . well. I would cross that bridge if and when I came to it.
With a final reassuring squeeze, Grant left the room. I listened to his footsteps stop directly outside the door, smiling a little to myself. I knew he wouldn’t go far if there was the slightest chance that I might need him.
I took one final deep breath and counted to ten, willing my heartbeat to slow to a more normal pace. Then I picked up the phone and hit dial.
My dad picked up after the first ring. “Ella?” he said, sounding breathless. “Is everything okay?”
My heart twisted painfully at the familiar sound of his voice. I hadn’t let myself fully admit to myself how much I missed him, but there was no ignoring it now.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, my voice catching a little.
“Ella?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assured him. “It’s just . . . really good to hear your voice.”
My dad chuckled uncomfortably. “How’s the tour going, baby?” he asked. “Are you coming home soon?”
I swallowed hard. Okay, so I hadn’t exactly lied to my dad about still being on tour, but I also hadn’t gone out of my way to tell him the truth. “Actually, Daddy, I’m not on tour anymore. I’m still in DC.”
Silence. Then: “I’m sorry?” My dad’s voice sounded confused and worried. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”
My heart gave another painful clench. “I’m okay, Daddy, I promise,” I said. “The truth is . . . I met someone. I’m getting married, Daddy.”