Can't Turn Back Now, I'm Haunted (A Ben Willbond Rom Com)

Epilogue | The Present

"I'm so proud of you," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"I'm proud of you, too," I replied with an irrepressible grin, and squeezed his hand. We reunited with the entire Ghosts gang — Martha, Mat, Larry, Jim, Simon, Katy, Lolly, Charlotte, and Kiell, the group that had gone in one quick year from strangers on a screen to some of my very closest friends -- and made our way into the theatre.

A few hours later, Ben and I were back at home, curled up on our king-sized bed under a blanket wearing cozy sweatpants and splitting a massive tin of Quality Streets.

"Hold out your hand." I felt Ben's voice rumble in his chest against my cheek, and I obliged. He dumped a handful of the pink ones into my hand and I grinned -- he knew the fudge ones were my favorite. I plucked one out and passed it back to him.

"Your tax," I said graciously.

"Funny," he said in a wry voice, taking the sweet. "I seem to remember your lot throwing an awfully big fit over taxation from our lot."

"Yes, but that's without representation," I said. "You're not on a throne thousands of miles away, you're right here."

"I am," he said, a content smile in his voice, and he dropped a kiss on the top of my head. I nuzzled in closer.

"What do you think?" He asked. "Pop the telly on, or should we just keep staring at those?"

I glanced over at what he was referring to -- my BAFTA and his BAFTA perched on the dresser, looking as exotic and bizarre as a pair of wild Amazonian birds. I chuckled.

"As lovely as those are to look at, I vote telly."

"Telly," he echoed quietly, straining to mimic my heavy American 'L's. He picked up the remote off of his bedside table and turned on the TV.

"Yes!" I grinned, opening one of my Quality Streets. "Come Dine With Me. You know I love the bitchy voice over guy."

He laughed.

"I do know that."

His arm tightened around me affectionately. We watched for a bit in contented silence, but I felt my gaze slip back over to the BAFTAs on the dresser.

"... they are pretty great to look at though, huh?" I asked with quiet giddiness. He chuckled again.

"You should've won Best Scripted as well as Best Performance."

"Nah," I smiled. "We've got plenty of time for that. You guys earned that one — we'll just have to kick your asses next year."

He laughed and kissed the top of my head again.

"You happy?"

The question, however rhetorical, made me laugh to myself. Am I happy?

I looked around the room — our cozy room — at the framed photographs on the walls and printed out scripts with colorful scribbled notes in the margins cluttering up the surfaces; at the soft white blanket covering us that was dappled with Quality Streets waiting to be eaten; at my glasses on his bedside table next to his because I always fell asleep in them and he took them off for me and placed them on his side, just like he had the first night here, before it had become the home we shared... If I could've dreamed up an image of happiness a year ago, it still wouldn't have even come close to how genuinely safe and content I felt in this moment.

My eyes flicked to the closet, where I knew his dark green suit jacket was hanging, containing a certain small box in the breast pocket. I knew he had no idea I'd found it while tidying, and I had no intention of telling him and spoiling anything. I knew we were taking a long-weekend trip to a beautiful little town in Scotland next week. I knew that Kamie couldn't even look at me without tearing up and cracking into a wistful smile, blaming it on "probably early menopause or whatever". I knew that my parents and close friends back home were terrible at keeping any kind of secret and had all been acting funny for the past week — one friend even going as far as to ask what "people wear in Scotland. You know, like in general. For no particular reason."

When it all happened, I would be nothing less than elated, and I was looking forward to it with giddy excitement. But just now, tucked up in bed eating sweets at two in the morning with Ben, curled up and watching television and talking about nothing, I didn't feel the need for anything else in the world. The recent past held the biggest achievement of my career, and the recent future would hold romantic, Big Life questions asked and answered, but the present was maybe the happiest I'd ever been.

"Yeah," I answered, pressing my face into his chest. "I'm happy. You?"

He stroked my hair and kissed my head again.

"Blissful."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: 
GUYS.
What can I even say? I am SO grateful to you for reading, commenting, being so supportive and funny and friendly. I have so enjoyed having this story as a creative outlet, and I'm genuinely going to miss Maggie and Ben and the gang. Let me know if you ever want any follow-up one-shots, I'm open to pitches!
And speaking of which, if you have any other celebrities or fictional characters you'd like a story about, please let me know, I'd love to find a new story to tell!
Also, if you are looking to stay in the cozy frazzled British rom com vibes, I have two books you've got to read -- ASKING FOR TROUBLE and A PROMISING MAN, AND ABOUT TIME TOO by Elizabeth Young. They're two of my faves, and the latter takes place at Christmas, so its perfect timing! Her works are huge inspirations to me, and believe me, she nails the genre much better than I ever could.

Love you guys so much. Happy Holidays, and I hope to meet again in a comments section soon! Thank you again for everything.

Warmly,

-A