HAPPILY EVER AFTER
“Come on, Red.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“I know.”
He was far too cheerful — something was going on, and I wanted to know what. I grumbled and groaned until we neared the promenade and, abruptly, I knew exactly where he was leading me.
“Our bridge?” I guessed, a smile stretching my lips.
He just grinned and tugged me along.
It was strange and wonderful to be back in Budapest, where it had all started — where we had started. We’d been here a week, retracing the steps we’d walked three years ago, repainting the lies and betrayals which had once clouded my image of this beautiful city with bright new memories — full of love and laughter and the promise of a new life together.
It all felt a little surreal, maybe because it had happened so fast. After I’d shot him, Benson had been airlifted from the cabin to a military hospital and then immediately transferred into agency custody. According to Wes, Benson folded before the interrogation even started, his cowardice unwavering as ever, especially since it was his ass on the line. With the intel he’d provided, the CIA raided Szekely’s underground facilities in Tokaj, as well as two smaller compounds in Romania and Turkey. The illegal arms they’d confiscated there would put Szekely — along with dozens of his men — away for the rest of their lives.
Sometimes, as I wandered the streets of Budapest, seeing it with new eyes, I found myself thinking back to before. Remembering the people I’d known then. Cranky Irenka, slutty Anna, brooding Marko. But, most often, I thought of Konrad. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to that smiling, scrappy teen I’d once known. Wes told me he hadn’t been in any of the compounds during the raid.
I hoped he’d made it out of that life. That he’d get a shot at being his own person.
Everyone deserves that chance, at the very least.
We had another few days in Budapest before we left for Sydney. It was the only part of the trip I’d insisted on. I needed to see the place Margot had loved enough to call home, even for a short time. I needed to lay flowers in that alley, and feel the salt on my cheeks on a windy day outside the opera house.
I needed to say goodbye to my friend.
From there, I had no idea where we’d go. I’d been practically nowhere; Wes had been pretty much everywhere. He was determined to show me the world; I was happy to let him.
The minute I heard Szekely was behind bars, I’d officially quit my job and given up the lease on my apartment in New York. That same day, Wes had terminated his contract with the agency. They weren’t happy to see him go, but they couldn’t hold him. Not after he’d given them Benson and Szekely on a silver platter.
So, at long last, we were free.
We didn’t have a plan. We’d blow from place to place, carried by the wind, two fallen leaves in a vortex of possibility. Who knew where we’d land?
I didn’t care, so long as we were together. For me, home was Wes.
“Is there some kind of festival?” I asked, my eyes scanning the bridge. It was often closed to auto traffic on weekends, but this was different. There were no vendor carts parked along the road. No guided walking tours for tourists grouped at the stone lions, snapping photos. No pedestrians clogged the entryway. Besides the solitary man standing guard at the blockaded entrance, the bridge was entirely empty — something I’d never seen, in all my trips across it. My curiosity mounted as we walked ever closer and the railings came into focus.
I thought it was snow, at first.
Thick braided ropes of white flowers had been strung from one side of the bridge to the other — a million blooms, all pure white. They covered every surface like a bizarre floral ice storm had swept across the Danube, leaving nothing but blossoms behind.
I gasped at the beauty of it.
It was nearly Christmas; flowers wouldn’t bloom here for several months, so they must’ve been imported, likely at great expense. But, whatever the cost, the effect was undeniable. Magical. A winter wonderland of snowy petals, blanketing the stonework of the bridge.
The flowers’ beauty was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh metal beneath — a dichotomy in its most basic form.
Hard and soft, grit and grace, winter and spring.
A contradiction.
And, just like that, I knew.
“You did this,” I breathed, my breath puffing visibly in the cold air. My hand squeezed his as we stepped past the guard, who smiled knowingly in our direction, onto the abandoned bridge. I felt not a flicker of fear at the prospect of crossing, as my eyes swept around, taking it all in. I looked over at Wes, wide eyed. His crooked grin confirmed it.
“But… why?” I asked, my voice laced with wonderment.
He stopped and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss.
“Because I love you,” he said simply. “Now, come on. You’re going to miss your surprise.”
I laughed. “I thought this was the surprise.”
His grin widened, his hand tightened on mine, and he tugged me further out onto the bridge. We walked for several minutes in silence, both admiring the ivory beauty around us, until we reached the exact center. There, Wes stopped and turned to face me, his eyes holding a gravity I’d rarely seen in the past.
“Faith Moon Morrissey,” he said, unable to keep his lips from twisting in a small smile as he said my full name. “Do you remember the first time I brought you here?”
I nodded.
“You didn’t want to walk the bridge. You were terrified — but you did it anyway. You didn’t let the fear stop you from living, from experiencing everything life has to offer. You trusted me, against all logic, against all reason, to keep you safe. That’s when I knew you were brave.” His voice dropped lower. “You counted to five, conquered your fear, and threw your arms around me, even though I was basically a stranger. That’s the moment I knew I loved you.”
I tied to speak, but he wasn’t finished.
“Three years ago, you tied your life to mine accidentally.” My eyes dropped to the cord around his neck and I smiled at the memory. “You didn’t have a choice, then. But you do, now.”
My jaw went slack as I finally realized what was happening.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet bag. I felt my eyes water as I watched him pour its contents into the calloused palm of his hand — two shining bands of platinum, one large and one small. He stared into my eyes and I felt my heart spill over with love as he took my hand.
“Marry me.” He didn’t ask, because there was no question. “Again. For real. Forever.”
“Yes,” I breathed without a moment’s hesitation, hurling my body against his and kissing him until the air in my lungs ran out and I couldn’t breathe. “Yes.”
His touch was featherlight, delicate, as he slipped the band onto my finger. With shaking hands, I worked his ring past his scarred knuckle and watched breathlessly as it slid into place.
Looking down at our hands, at the gleaming twin loops around our fingers, I knew, for the rest of my life, nothing would ever be as perfect as it was in this moment.
And that was okay.
I didn’t need perfect. I just needed him.
Faith and Wes.
Wes and Faith.
Forever.
As we kissed on the contradictory bridge of splendor and stone, pressed together in our own special paradox, I knew the untamed wolf and the foolish girl had found their happy ending against all odds.
Our love couldn’t be erased.
We were permanent.