Page 96 of Groomsman to Groom
“Could make me see it in a way that makes sense. That makes it all okay. With your big brain and bigger heart.”
I smile, cupping my hand on his cheek. “It’s just the truth, Hayes,” I say, my voice barely audible over the mountain breeze. “So, what do we do now?”
Hayes’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me but is restraining himself. “Well, to finish my recap of events—they whisked us off to St. Sebastian for fantasy suite dates, and I just went through the motions. I didn’t get intimate with anyof the women. Actually, Serena and Annabelle were pulling for you.”
“Wow, really?” That makes me so happy. I hope I didn’t lose two people I’ve come to love and appreciate.
“Really, Brielle.”
The pieces of the puzzle start falling into place, and I say, “So, what about the finale?”
A ghost of a smile touches Hayes’s lips. “There hasn’t been one—yet.”
Comprehension dawns, and my heart starts galloping in my chest.
Hayes goes to the door and calls Tyler to come outside, and he shows up instantly, camera on his shoulder.
Hayes takes one step closer to me, then another, until we’re standing toe to toe. “I’m so proud of you, Brielle. I admire you so much, and you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in someone. August adores you too. You’re successful, kind, and smart. But more than that, through everything we’ve been through, you always saw me, the real person underneath.” His mouth quirks up when he says, “Even though we’ll forever have to agree to disagree thatTapestryis the bestNext Generationepisode.” He hesitates, then says, “I had to take a cross-country flight, then a small, sketchy plane, then a mountainous drive, then a three-mile cross-country ski trip to get here, Brielle Wilson. And I’d do it again. I’d hike twice as far, in the freezing snow, uphill both ways, if it meant a chance to undo the hurt I caused you.”
The speech is so earnest, so Hayes, that it melts the last of my resistance. “You really did all that. For me.”
“For us,” he corrects gently. Then, to my absolute shock, he lowers himself to one knee on the weathered deck.
I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done already,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key and handing it to me. AfterI take it, with shaking hands, he pulls out a small lock box and holds it up.
This is the part of the show where I use the key to unlock the box, so I do it, butterflies exploding in my stomach.
Inside is a ring—not the gaudy Neil Lane monstrosity from the show, but something delicate, vintage, with a modest diamond surrounded by tiny sapphires. “Don’t get too attached to this ring because I’m not sure the show will let me keep it since I broke the rules, but Brielle, will you get engaged to me so we can date and see how things go in the real world? Because I’m in love with you.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Can’t process that this is actually happening—that Hayes Burke is kneeling before me on a cabin deck in Alaska, offering me not a fairy tale ending but something better: a real beginning.
I laugh, a sound of pure joy, and hold out my trembling hand. “It’s too late,” I tell him as he slides the ring onto my finger. “I’m in love with the ring, and I’m also in love with you. I can’t wait to get engaged so we can date and see how things go living our normal lives.”
Hayes stands and pulls me into his arms, his kiss tasting of promises and second chances. Behind us, the sun dips lower toward the mountains, painting the sky in colors no filter could replicate. It’s perfection—except for Tyler, and how he’s bringing the camera in close.
But I don’t care. Let him film. Let Darren edit it however he wants. Let viewers dissect every moment of our proposal. All that matters is us.
Because this isn’t the end of a reality show journey. It’s the beginning of our actual story—messy, imperfect, real. No Lock & Key ceremonies, no production manipulations, no carefully crafted narrative.
Just Hayes and me, writing our own script from here on out.
Epilogue
HAYES
Istill can’t believe this is my life sometimes. Watching August skip ahead of us toward Scoops ‘n Stories, his favorite ice cream shop in Atlanta, I feel that familiar catch in my throat—the one that comes when happiness ambushes you in ordinary moments. In one hand, I have Onion’s leash, as Brielle ended up adopting the dog after the show finished filming. In the other, Brielle’s hand fits in mine as we follow my son, her engagement ring catching the late afternoon sunlight. One year ago, I was trapped in a reality TV nightmare of my own making. Now I’m just a guy taking his fiancée, son, and sweet dog out for ice cream on a perfect spring day. The most unreal thing about reality, it turns out, is how good it can be when you get it right.
“Dad! Brielle! Onion! Hurry up!” August calls over his shoulder, his glasses sliding down his nose in his excitement.At ten-and-a-half—the half is crucial, as he frequently reminds us—he’s still young enough to be thrilled about ice cream, but old enough to pretend he’s too mature for it sometimes. Today, thank God, is a no-pretending day.
“We’re coming, buddy,” I call back. “The ice cream isn’t going anywhere.”
“But the Brontë’s Chocolate Heights flavor might run out,” he says with the graveness only a child can muster when discussing frozen dairy products. “It happened last time.”
“He has my anxiety,” I whisper to Brielle, who squeezes my hand in response.
“And your memory for dessert-related trauma,” she whispers back, her eyes crinkling at the corners the way they do when she’s holding back laughter.
