Updated Dec 11, 2025 • ~6 min read
OLIVER
Connor dropped the fraud charges the next week.
No explanation. No press conference. Just a quiet withdrawal that made headlines anyway.
“He knew he’d lose,” my lawyer said. “Smart move, backing down.”
But I knew the truth. Hannah had scared him. Had called his bluff so completely that he’d had no choice but to retreat.
My girlfriend was terrifying. I loved her so much.
“One down,” Tristan said, reviewing our legal situation. “Two to go.”
The board’s lawsuit. Richard Ashton’s emotional distress claim. Both still pending. Both still expensive.
But manageable. With Connor gone, the pressure eased. We could breathe.
“We should celebrate,” I said to Hannah that night.
“Celebrate what? We’re still drowning in legal bills.”
“We’re drowning slightly less. That’s progress.”
She laughed. “Your standards have really lowered.”
“My standards have adjusted to reality.” I pulled her into my lap. “Besides. I have everything I need right here.”
“You need about forty million dollars and a time machine.”
“Semantics.”
She kissed me. Soft. Sweet. My entire world in one person.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Even when you’re delusional about our financial situation.”
“I love you too. Especially when you’re trying to sacrifice yourself to save me.”
“I thought we agreed no more hero complexes.”
“We did. But I get one last grand gesture. Partner rules.”
“Partner rules?”
“I made them up. They’re very official.” I stood, pulling her with me. “Come on. Get dressed. Nice dressed.”
“Oliver, it’s 8 PM on a Tuesday. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
HANNAH
He took me to the restaurant. Morrison’s. The Italian place where I’d shown up crying a month ago. Where we’d started over.
Except tonight, it was different.
The entire restaurant was empty. Just us. Candles everywhere. String lights. Music playing softly.
“Oliver. What did you do?”
“Rented it out for the night. Called in every favor I had left. Begged. Pleaded. Used my remaining reputation shamelessly.”
“This must’ve cost a fortune—”
“It cost exactly nothing. The owner’s a romantic. Saw our Times interview. Said if I ever wanted to do something special for you, to call him.” Oliver led me to our usual table. “So I called.”
I was crying. Already crying and we hadn’t even sat down.
“You’re insane.”
“We’ve established this.”
Dinner was perfect. Every course exactly right. The wine I loved. The pasta Oliver knew was my favorite. Dessert that was probably illegal in several states.
And through it all, he talked. About us. About the future. About the company he was building, the life he wanted to create.
“I know I’m not who I was when we met,” he said. “The penthouse is gone. The money’s mostly gone. The company and the legacy and everything my father built—gone.”
“Oliver—”
“Let me finish.” He took my hand. “I spent thirty-five years trying to be him. To live up to his expectations. To build what he wanted. And I was miserable. Successful but miserable.” He kissed my knuckles. “Then you got in my car. And you changed everything.”
“I ruined everything—”
“You saved everything. You showed me what actually matters. Not the money or the company or the legacy. Just—this. Us. Building something real.”
He stood. Pulled me to my feet.
“I proposed to you once in a panic. In my office. No ring. No romance. Just desperation.”
“I said yes—”
“I know. And I’m grateful. But you deserve better.” He dropped to one knee. Again. “Hannah Whitman. You’re the bravest person I know. You’re brilliant and stubborn and you keep trying to save me from myself even though I’ve made it very clear I don’t need saving.”
I laughed through tears. “Oliver—”
“I don’t have much to offer anymore. No penthouse. No private jets. No billions in the bank. Just me. Flawed. Imperfect. Ridiculously in love with you.” He pulled out a ring. Simple. Beautiful. Exactly right. “Will you marry me? For real this time. Not to save a company. Not to fix a problem. Just because I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“Yes.” I pulled him up. “Yes yes yes. I already said yes. Why do you keep asking?”
“Because I want to keep hearing you say it.”
He slipped the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly.
“How did you afford this?” I asked.
“Sold my watch. The one my father gave me.” He saw my expression. “Don’t. It’s fine. I don’t need a watch to know what time it is. It’s time to start over. Time to build something new. Time to marry the woman I love.”
I kissed him. Poured everything into that kiss. Gratitude and love and hope and promise.
“When?” I asked.
“When what?”
“When do you want to get married?”
He smiled. “Tomorrow. Next week. Six months. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Why wait? We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s just—do it. Courthouse. City hall. Whatever. Just us and whoever wants to witness.”
“Hannah—”
“Unless you want a big wedding. I can wait if—”
“Tomorrow is perfect.” He kissed me again. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You’re perfect for me. Same thing.”
OLIVER
We got married on a Thursday.
City Hall. 10 AM appointment. Elise and Tristan as witnesses. No photographers. No press. No drama.
Just us.
Hannah wore a simple white dress Elise had helped her find. I wore the suit I’d worn to my non-wedding with Vivian, because I owned exactly two suits now and the other one was at the cleaners.
“Ready?” Hannah asked, taking my hand.
“I’ve been ready since you got in my car.”
The ceremony was five minutes. Perfunctory. Legal. Exactly what we needed.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
We kissed. Elise cried. Tristan clapped. Random strangers in the courthouse waiting area cheered.
We walked out into New York sunshine as husband and wife.
“That was anticlimactic,” Hannah said.
“That was perfect.”
“No flowers. No music. No vows we wrote ourselves.”
“We don’t need written vows. We know what we’re promising.”
“What are we promising?”
I pulled her close. Right there on the courthouse steps. “I promise to choose you. Every day. Every decision. Even when it’s hard. Even when it costs me everything. I promise to build a life with you that’s ours, not anyone else’s. I promise to let you save me sometimes, as long as you let me save you too. And I promise that this—” I gestured between us, “—is forever. No takesie-backsies.”
“Takesie-backsies?”
“It’s a legal term.”
“It’s really not.”
“It should be.”
She laughed. Kissed me. “I promise the same things. All of them. Forever.”
“Good. Then we’re agreed.” I kissed her again. “Let’s go home, Mrs. King.”
“Home is Elise’s guest room.”
“Home is wherever you are.”
“That’s sappy.”
“That’s married life. Get used to it.”
We walked down the courthouse steps hand in hand. Husband and wife. Broke but happy. Starting over but together.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t scared of the future.
Because Hannah was in it.
And that made everything else survivable.
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