Q and A... and the Big A

The Q&A rolls along, easy. Kathryn, perched on the edge of her chair, fields the first barrage like a pro.

“First of all—thank you for keeping Claire’s edge,” a fan says, beaming from the mic line. “But uh… is there… gonna be any more, y’know… skin this time?”

A low ripple of chuckles breaks through the hall. A few whistles pepper the back rows. Cameras flash. Kim, sitting beside Kathryn, shakes her head with a long-suffering, motherly sigh—the classic don’t make me come down there expression.

Kathryn just shrugs, grin wide, eyes sparkling.

“Hey…” she says, holding her hands up, playful and unapologetic. “It’s HBO.”

The place laughs again, louder now, the energy electric.

Another fan throws a question my way—something about the tattoos, the style choices in the trailer, if I’m planning to cameo in the full film. I answer, my words steady, but my hand keeps brushing my chest pocket, feeling the weight of the ring burning through the fabric.

My pulse drowns out most of the next answer. The timing’s perfect. My nerves? Shot to hell.

I wait for the lull.

Then I cut in.

“Eric,” I say, voice steady but loud enough to snag attention. “Sorry. Can I… say something?”

Eric’s a pro. He plays it cool, eyes wide with fake surprise. “Of course.”

The mic passes to me. The room tilts. The nerves settle like concrete under my ribs.

I stand.

“I’ve been here since the jump,” I start, the words slow, raw, honest. “When Supernatural premiered, I was hooked. Hard. Every character. Every backstory. Every goddamn heartbreak they threw at us.”

The audience cheers, some clapping, some hollering in agreement.

“And when the chance came to help bring this next chapter to life—Wayward Sisters—I didn’t hesitate. Because their story? It deserved more. It deserved this.”

I scan the crowd, my hand still brushing that ring box. My eyes land on Emily.

“But that wasn’t the only reason,” I say, voice dropping lower, more personal now. “I had… another one. My muse.”

I lift my chin toward her.

“Emily,” I say simply. “Come up here.”

The spotlight shifts.

She freezes. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly parted like she just realized she’s in the splash zone of something huge. Iris nudges her—gentle but insistent.

“Go,” Iris whispers.

Emily rises, stumbling slightly, eyes darting as the crowd turns. Some applause already trickling through. She makes her way up to the stage, cheeks flushed, her expression somewhere between stunned and laughing.

I meet her halfway. Take her hand. Kiss her quickly—nothing showy, just grounding.

I turn to the crowd.

“This is Emily,” I say, voice cracking slightly around the edges. “She’s… a lot of things. The reason I don’t fall apart most days. The reason this project had any focus behind it at all. My partner. My calm. My chaos. My best friend.”

Her eyes well, her hand tightens around mine.

“I didn’t know I needed her… until I did,” I continue, the words thick with the truth of it. “And now? I can’t imagine a world where I don’t.”

I sink to one knee.

Her hands shoot to her mouth, eyes wide, sparkling with unshed tears.

Kathryn beams so hard her whole face lights up. Eric looks like he’s been waiting for this moment all week.

The rest of the cast? Shocked. Hands over mouths. Some snapping quick pictures. Some wiping their eyes already.

I pull the ring from my pocket.

Silver dolphins—sleek, minimal—curve delicately around the band, tails nearly meeting beneath. Tiny etched waves shimmer along the sides, curling around a single, flawless diamond set clean at the center—bold without being loud. Inside the band, just two simple words:

“I know.”

Emily’s breath hitches.

A shout breaks through the room—playful, unfiltered:

“SAY YES!”

Another voice, teasing from the shadows:

“DON’T DO IT!”

Laughter rips through the crowd. Emily chokes on a watery laugh, shaking her head.

Her hand trembles as she extends it, fingers spread, tears slipping free.

I smile, full, unguarded, more certain than I’ve ever been.

“Emily,” I say, quiet now, for her. “Marry me.”

For a beat, it’s quiet.

Then, with a shaky, laughing, tear-streaked nod, she says it.

“Yes.”

The applause hits like a wave. The cast is on their feet. Kleenexes—those goddamn mystery Kleenexes—are suddenly everywhere. Some fans cry. Some cheer. Phones flash. Kathryn’s eyes glisten, her smile wide enough to split her face.

Emily folds into me. My arms wrap around her tight, steady, grounding us both as the room spins.

I couldn’t be happier.

I couldn’t be more hers.

And this? This is exactly how it was always supposed to go.