Kiss Me (Townsend Legacy)

Epilogue

Tania

“What. The. Hell?” I ask, staring at the contract granting me close to mid-six figures toward the charity of my choice. It’s signed and dated by Taehyun and is good for the next ten years.

“If your camp needs more, I can have my attorney draw up a new one, but I figured?—”

“Are you kidding me?” I screech as I turn to him, putting my back to the gigantic Christmas tree the Townsends have decorated and set up for tonight’s family dinner.

It’s Christmas evening, and after telling Taehyun I believed him and letting go of my anger, he, my father, Liza, Keith, and I all sat down and enjoyed the buffet style breakfast I’d ordered to my room for Christmas morning.

After that, we ended up exchanging gifts and watching Christmas movies in the onesie pajamas my dad brought for all of us. I got my wish to spend the day eating gingerbread cookies and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate while my dad laughed and enjoyed my favorite movies, too.

All while Taehyun refused to let me out of his arms.

Yes, that did earn him more than a couple of side-eyes from my father, but my dad let it go since he wouldn’t have been here at all if Taehyun hadn’t called him to make him realize what he was missing out on.

Now we’re at the Townsend family Christmas dinner and I mistakenly thought all of the gift-giving was done for the night.

“This is a joke, right?” I hold up the contract.

It’s Dae who leans over Taehyun’s shoulder and snorts. “Looks a little light to me. You should also make him pay for having to deal with him.”

He juts his head toward the contract. “Double the amount. He can afford it,” he tells me before walking away.

I cock my head to the side at Taehyun. “Exactly how much money do you have?”

“More than enough to double that amount if that’s what you want.”

“Stop,” I say, laughing and trapping his hands in mine when it looks like he’s about to reach for his phone. “But really, is this for my camp?”

He nods, a serious expression in his face. “Your face lit up when you talked about creating that camp. The same way it does when you talk about meeting fans, especially kids who dream of entering the sport of snowboarding. I would triple this amount without blinking if it meant keeping that light in your eyes.”

And just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better or my heart couldn’t get any more full.

I look at the contract.

“Thank you.”

I had my own money to at least start a small camp, and I undoubtedly could get sponsors. Heck, my dad nearly started making calls already himself. That is after pledging a nice five figure amount from his own bank account to fund the camp.

It’s not the money that’s making me so emotional. It’s the fact that Taehyun not only tells me with words how much he cares for me. But he shows it with action.

Anyone can say they support your dreams, but do they show up when needed? He listens, takes notes, and delivers. Just like landing perfect back-to-back one-eighties.

I place my arms around his neck, and though there are tens of people around us, Christmas music playing, and yes, my dad’s eyes on us, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “I told you to stop thanking me for the gif?—”

I press a finger to his lips, cutting him off.

“I’m not thanking you for the money,” I say. “Thank you for blackmailing me and making me fall in love with you. Thank you for being the man of my dreams.”

The truth is, if Taehyun hadn’t set me up the way he did, I would still be trapped in the cycle of doing my damnedest to please my dad and everyone else around me. I would still be lying in order to save face, or just to get a few days off.

“I love you,” I tell him.

I have no idea what’s going to happen for us after this week is over. What I do know, however, is that I’m completely in love with this man.

He cups my face, his taking on a magical expression. “I made you fall in love with me in only a week?” he asks, grinning.

I nod. “Are there any other wishes I can grant for you?” I joke.

“Just one.” He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it over our heads.

I glance up to see its mistletoe.

“Kiss me,” he insists.

And I do.