“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
I blink at him, slow and drowsy. “Still?”
He grins. “Even more.”
I reach across our snoring children and lace my fingers with his. “Me too.”
We lie there like that, tangled and tired and covered in spit up, and I think…
This is it.
This is the dream.
Even if it smells like formula and feet.
Epilogue
JOSIE
Summit Ridge Overlookis more beautiful than I have ever seen it before, the sun lazily sinking behind the mountains like it knows something big’s about to happen and wants a front row seat.
Fairy lights twinkle overhead. Wildflowers burst from mason jars and teacups on every surface. It smells like pine, cake, and fresh air, and beneath that, electric.
“Okay,” Maya says, adjusting the neckline of my dress for the eighth time. “You’ve got something old, those earrings from your mom. Something new, your dress. Something borrowed, Gracie’s clutch. And something blue… Dee’s eyeliner. On you. Accidentally. Sorry.”
Dee shrugs unapologetically. “Consider it a blessing from your cranky fairy godmother.”
I laugh, a little too breathy, a little too nervous. “How are my ankles? Do I look like I waddled here?”
“You look like a goddess who survived twin birth and still managed to make a grown man cry during rehearsal dinner speeches,” Maya says firmly, fluffing my veil like she’s trying to intimidate it. “Now get out there and marry your hot chef.”
A loud record scratch startles us all.
“Showtime!” Jude calls gleefully from their DJ booth… which is actually just the Timberline Inn’s buffet table turned sideways and topped with a laptop, a mixing board, and a light-up sign that saysDJ JUDE JUICY BEATS.“Walk slow and dramatic! Think Oscar acceptance speech meets indie movie trailer!”
Eli, crouched beside them with a DSLR and a gimbal, gives me a thumbs up. “This is going to be so aesthetic.”
“Please don’t fall,” Dee murmurs, looping her arm through mine.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
We step out into the clearing, and the town collectively awes. Someone actually gasps. Pretty sure it’s Mayor Willa, who’s dabbing at her eyes with a lace hanky and whispering to Dale about seating logistics. Dale, naturally, just grunts and says something about the forecast.
I focus on one thing: Knox.
He’s waiting at the end of the aisle with the twins strapped to his chest in matching cream colored slings. They’re both somehow asleep, even as Tuck trots down the aisle ahead of me with the rings tied to his collar, pausing to sniff Gracie and pee near a daisy arrangement.
But all I can see is Knox.
Knox, in a tux that fits him like a sin. Knox, with our children bundled against his chest like the world’s most chaotic wedding accessory. Knox, smiling like I’m the only thing that exists.
My chest tightens, then expands so fast it hurts. This man, this gorgeous, stubborn, steady man, is my home. My heart. The father of my babies. And somehow, he’s still looking at me like I’m magic.
For one wild second, I almost forget to walk.
Jace shouts, “Atta boy!” like it’s a touchdown.
