Star's Crossing

Epilogue 5: Every Word

The applause rose around her, soft thunder. 

Mare smiled and closed the book. Row after row stood, and pride suffused her. She stood, clasping the book close, and bowed once. Then, beneath the lights, she turned toward the wings—and froze.

He was smiling. That mischievous, knowing smile of his. The one that made his eyes glitter. He held his hands before him, and wore a fine black suit. His dark curls were longer now than they'd been when they'd first courted, and Mare was struck by the desire to run her hands through them.

You're late, she mouthed. He chuckled, and to her surprise, left the wings and walked onto the stage.

A steady, baffled silence worked through the crowds. They'd been preparing to leave, but now returned to their seats. Mare blinked in bewilderment as Teddy reached her, and took her by the hands.

"What are you doing?" She met his eyes, level with hers, her heart beating hard against her ribs. "I was worried."

"I'm sorry. I never wish to worry you." He spoke very softly, one thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. Her stomach fluttered. "You read beautifully."

"You heard?"

"Every word."

Mare's face burned. She pressed her lips together, minimizing a smile that, if allowed, would overtake her face. "And now?"

"And now." Teddy drew back, her hands in his, and knelt.

The air left Mare's lungs. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. They'd discussed it at length over the years. First it was deferred by travel; then war; then Reconstruction. What stood, now, in their way? Time and every enemy had been bested. 

Had their moment come at last?

"Mare Atwood," said Theodore Bridge, his eyes aglitter beneath the lights. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

His smile was blurred by a sheen of tears. Mare grasped his hands. "Yes," she said. "At last."

He grinned, producing a golden band from his jacket, which he slid delicately onto her ring finger. It was simple and very fine. It looked like it belonged there. Then he stood and drew her into the circle of his arms. She laughed, and heard, as though from a distance, the cheers of the crowd.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. She could feel his heart beating against hers.

"And haven't you worked to?" She asked, drawing back. She placed her hand on his face, his skin warm, and alive, and vital, and there. "But we stand victorious in the end, don't we, Mr. Bridge?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Ms. Atwood?" His eyes found her mouth, but with the crowd cheering from the rows, he didn't kiss her. "Call me Teddy."