Tomorrow, we begin our life—the one she chose, the one I never dared hope for.
Together.
EPILOGUE
EMMA
Iwake to sunlight streaming through the window and Wyatt's arm heavy across my waist. The cabin smells of coffee and pine, a scent I've come to associate with home in just a week. My home. Our home.
Cain jumps onto the bed, circling three times before settling against my legs. Abel follows, predictably attacking his brother's tail. Their skirmish sends ripples of movement through the quilts.
"Those damn cats," Wyatt mumbles into my hair, his voice rough with sleep.
I smile and nestle deeper into his warmth. "They missed me too."
His arm tightens around me, a silent acknowledgment of the month we spent apart. We don't talk about it much anymore. What matters is now—this bed, this cabin, this life I've chosen.
Wyatt makes breakfast while I feed the cats. We eat at the rough-hewn table he built with his own hands, discussing plans for the day. Simple. Perfect. Just us.
"I need to check the far ridge," he says, refilling my coffee cup. "Want to come?"
"Of course." I've accompanied him every day this week, learning the mountain that's now my permanent home. Sometimes I bring my camera, sometimes I just watch him work. Either way, I find myself storing these moments like treasures.
The ridge offersa spectacular view of the valley below. Wyatt moves with that fluid grace that first captured my attention, pointing out landmarks, teaching me to read the land the way he does.
"There's a storm system coming," he says, gesturing to clouds gathering in the distance. "Probably hit tomorrow."
I frame the approaching clouds through my viewfinder. "It's beautiful."
"Yes, very beautiful."
When I lower my camera, he's watching me with an intensity that still makes my heart race. I remember all those romance movies I used to watch, where I wished someone would look at me the way those heroes looked at their heroines.
Wyatt does the exact same thing to me. The proof is the butterflies fluttering in my belly.
He reaches for my hand, tugging me to sit beside him on a sun-warmed rock.
"I have something for you."
From his pocket, he withdraws a small wooden box, its surface carved with delicate mountain peaks. Oh my God, it's so beautiful.
"I made this last month," he says, "when I thought you weren't coming back."
He opens the box. Inside sits a ring—a simple band of white gold with a princess-cut diamond at its center. The stone catches the golden light of the sun, throwing tiny rainbows that dance across the rocky outcropping where we sit. It's not huge or ostentatious, but perfectly cut and clear, sparkling against the backdrop of the valley spread below us.
"Wyatt," I say, unable to look away from how the diamond seems to capture the very light of the mountains themselves.
But Wyatt is already down on one knee before me. "I've loved you since the moment you stumbled into my life, and I will love you until I take my last breath. I was going to say you changed my life, but that's not exactly true. You, Emma, baby, youaremy life. Will you marry me?"
Tears blur my vision as I take the ring from its nest, hand shaking so hard I almost drop it.
"Yes," I say, letting him slide it onto my finger. "Yes, of course, yes."
He kisses me then, and the mountains around us fade away. It's just him and me and the rest of our lives together. Whenwe break apart, I can't stop staring at the ring—this perfect embodiment of us.
"It's beautiful," I whisper.
"Like you." His forehead rests against mine. "I was going to wait, but I couldn't. Needed you to know you're it for me."
