But I’ve learned from that young girl who once felt helpless, and I am no longer in the place I once was, even if the gossip blogs tempt to pull me back in.
I’m here to say that we are all allowed the space to grow and evolve.
To not be ashamed of our past or our journey to find a place of healing.
Because we are more than our circumstances, more than the titles bestowed upon us.
We are worthy, we are loved, and we are strong women who don’t cower to man children who have no power over us.
And maybe some of us have a Monarch with a mean right hook in our corner that you shouldn’t mess with.
Love,
Isabella
“Yeah, I probably should take out that last part before your PR people come for my head,” I mumble into my wineglass as I take a sip.
I almost spill it all over my chest as Mateo pulls me by my ankles and manhandles me into straddling him.
“I swear to God if you have a boner, I’m getting you institutionalized.”
He laughs as he takes the glass out of my hand and puts it on the coffee table.
As soon as the glassware is safe, his hands are on my face and he’s pulling me down for a kiss. “I love you so much, Isabella. Promise you’ll be mine forever.”
I smile against his lips. “Careful, Martinez. You don’t want to go around making a girl think you’re proposing to her or something.”
He hums. “I wouldn’t dare. Although, tell me. If this were your favorite romance book, how would I propose to a woman like you?”
I smirk as I whisper into his lips. “You know where we keep the Post-its. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Epilogue I
I'M ABOUT TO scramble off this couch and scribble the quickest marriage proposal known to man when my phone vibrates next to me.
It’s a text message from Nick.
Shit.
On my way out of the stadium, I saw him stalking furiously into his office with Luisa hot on his heels.
He probably wants to have my head on a pike.
I open the text and am taken aback by the fact that it’s a group text for the entire Monarchs team.
Nick:
Hi all, I know last night was a disappointing loss for all of us, but today is a new day. I am hosting a dinner party at my home tonight, and your attendance is mandatory. Plus-ones are encouraged, although nochildren, please. Make sure to wear your finer clothes and arrive ready for a celebration.
What in the actual fuck?
Isabella’s phone starts to go off, and I see it’s Daisy. By the way they’re texting back and forth, they too are at a loss.
Either way, after the stunt I pulled last night, I don’t have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to blowing this party off, so I guess we’re going out tonight.
Epilogue II
THE SIDEWALK LEADING UP to Nick Stonehaven’s brownstone looks like it was secured by the same people who work the MET Gala. Valets and security keep the long line of cars moving smoothly.
