"Sorry," Ridge called out, not looking sorry at all. "We were helping load equipment and heard you. Wanted to make sure everyone was okay."
Trace kept his arm around me as more people gathered: friends, a few lingering vendors, even the photographer with his camera already clicking away.
"You know," the photographer said, "I've got this gorgeous setup and the light's perfect right now. It would be a shame to waste it."
Nico appeared at his shoulder, his eyes bright with a prospect of a new kind of story. "The Ex-List couple getting married at the site of the celebrity wedding disaster? This is the kind of content that goes viral for all the right reasons."
I looked up at Trace, expecting him to laugh or suggest we wait. Instead, he was looking at me with an expression of wonder and pure love.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Ready to give this town the wedding it deserves?"
An hour later, I stood at the back of the transformed ceremony site in a dress Haven Hart’s stylist had fashioned out of thin air like a modern-day fairy godmother. I held a bouquet of flowers mixed with greenery that Trace had gathered from the woods behind the Inn while I'd frantically called my parents who were visiting my aunt in Vancouver and his mother who was sitting in the stands of a hockey arena and watching Alex execute a hat trick.
The photographer snapped away, capturing every moment of what was already being called "the most romantic plot twist in Montana history." The podcaster, for once, seemed genuinely moved rather than just looking out for himself.
As I walked down the makeshift aisle toward Trace, who stood waiting for me in his best flannel shirt and a tie that Holt had found somewhere in his truck, I caught sight of faces I'd known my whole life. Nellie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Gillian smiled and took pictures with her phone. Even the other men from the Ex-List were there, grinning and calling out good-natured encouragement.
But all I really saw was Trace, solid and sure and waiting for me with an expression of love that it took my breath away.
"Hard Timber gets its celebrity wedding after all," he said when I reached him, just loud enough for our friends to hear. "But I only care about marrying the woman who showed up at my cabin with coffee and honesty and wrecked my life in the best possible way."
"I love you too," I whispered as the minister began the ceremony that would bind us together in front of our friends and Montana and the internet, apparently.
And as we exchanged vows under the big sky with the mountains as our witnesses, I realized that maybe Nellie posting the Ex-List was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because it led me here. To this moment. To this man who chose me, finally and forever. To this love that was worth every mistake, every heartbreak, every moment of doubt that brought us to this perfect, chaotic, absolutely right beginning.
Hard Timber got its viral wedding moment after all, just not the one anyone expected. And as Trace kissed me for the first time as my husband, the whole town cheered. I knew we'd given our town a love story worth talking about for years to come.
Maybe someday they’d forget about the list, the rumors, and all the mistakes, but I hoped they’d remember that even in Hard Timber, love gets the last word.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Trace
I woke up like I usually did, to the smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls drifting in from the kitchen. Sabrina had been up for an hour already. I could hear her humming downstairs along with the familiar sounds of the espresso machine she’d bought so we could have one at home.
I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, pausing to look at the framed photo on our dresser. It was from our wedding day. Not the posed shots the professional photographer had taken, but a candid one Gillian had snapped of us laughing during the reception. Sabrina's hair was coming loose, my tie was crooked, and we both looked slightly stunned by what we'd just done. It was perfect.
Hard Timber had never quite recovered from what the media dubbed "The Montana Wedding That Broke the Internet." The photographer had sold the shots to three different magazines, and we made him donate half the proceeds to the town. Nico had done a follow-up episode called "From Ex-List to Wedding Bliss" that had somehow made us sound like romantic heroes instead of small-town disasters.
Sometimes I still heard people whisper about the list. But now, when they did, it wasn’t with bitterness. It was with a kind of wistful affection. Like the town had finally learned that hearts can heal, reputations can mend, and even Hard Timber can let go of old mistakes.
The result was that Morning Wood Coffee had become a legitimate tourist destination. People drove hours just to get coffee from "the place where love went viral." Sabrina had handled the attention with her usual grace, hiring two more employees and expanding the menu to include what she called "celebrity wedding cake" which was really just her grandmother's pound cake recipe with fancy icing.
Downstairs, I found her leaning up against the counter in jeans and one of my flannel shirts, her hair twisted up in that messy bun I loved. She had her phone pressed to her ear and a smile on her face. When she saw me coming down the stairs, she set the phone on the counter and put it on speaker.
“Trace just walked in. Tell him what you just told me,” she said.
Paige laughed and I could practically hear her eyes roll. “Good morning, Trace. I was just telling Sabrina a couple from Calgary just came in. They drove all the way down here because they heard your story online. This place is turning into some kind of love cult attraction.”
I stepped up behind Sabrina, wrapping my arms around her waist. She leaned back against me automatically, fitting perfectly like we’d been made for each other because we had.
“Nothing wrong with that. Sounds to me like you’re serving coffee with a side of hope,” I teased.
“And love makes the world go round,” Sabrina added. “Make sure you have them put a pin on the map before they leave. I love knowing where people are coming from.”
“You got it, boss. Enjoy the day off.” The phone clicked as Paige hung up.
