“Forever,” I promise.
EPILOGUE
Hi, friends!!
Thank you so much for coming for Hallie and Jesse’s story. It means the world to me, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. Next is the epilogue, set two years after the engagement. It features pregnancy, something I always like to disclose in case my friends experiencing infertility, miscarriage, or mixed feelings about that topic aren’t interested or in a place to read. Please, please take care of yourself first—reading is supposed to be our happy place! Hallie, Jesse, and Emma get their happily ever after, and the next chapter doesn’t change that in the least.
Love, Morgan
I’m pacing the house, unsure of what to do with myself. Emma’s at school, her first week of high school going well so far, and Jesse is out on the farm, continuing to prep for the busy season.
I should be outside, taking pictures of the property, posting to the accounts I manage, getting stuff in the crock pot for dinner, cleaning, or doing any of a hundred different productive things.
Instead, I pace, trying to keep my pulse from skyrocketing. As I pass a gilded frame on the far wall, my steps falter to take it in like I’ve done a million times before. It’s just one of two dozen photos on the gallery wall Emma helped me hang last winter, something Jesse was very unimpressed by when he found out we’d teetered on chairs to hang the high-up ones instead of waiting for him.
It’s not even my favorite picture on the wall—that one’s the picture taken last June at Emma’s middle school graduation, Jesse and me on either side of her in her red graduation gown, pride on both of our faces, and Emma giving the most exaggerated eye roll possible. I don’t remember what she was annoyed by—probably that four different people had already asked her to stand for this same photo on six different devices—but it’s the perfect snapshot of our little family.
Instead, the photo that stops me is from Jesse’s and my wedding, almost two years ago to the day. It’s just like that one I saw on my stepsister’s social media, the one that sent me into a spiral and, in turn, into Jesse’s arms.
Except better, of course.
In the photo, you see the back of a woman in bridal white, though instead of her hair being brown, it’s a shining strawberry blond, the hair falling in waves down her—my—back, while a woman in a baby blue mother-of-the-groom dress slides a veil into my hair with tears in her eyes.
The moment I never thought I’d get, given to me freely.
Mrs. King—Mom, as she continues to remind me to call her gently, a name I always dreamed of calling her but can’t seem always to remember—has the same photo framed in her craft room, beside a matching one from Wren’s wedding last spring.
My girls, she says, the words carrying both lightness and nostalgia. I wonder sometimes if she always knew I’d end up here one day.
The day was beautiful and simple, a small occasion on the Three Kings property with barely forty people in attendance. Wren was my maid of honor, Nat was my bridesmaid, and Emma was my junior bridesmaid. I‘d had a full breakdown a month previously to Wren about who would walk me down the aisle, since as much as I love my dad, I thought Mr. King might be more fitting, or even Colt, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
Being the genius she is, Wren suggested I walk down the aisle with Emma to Jesse, and instantly, I cried, knowing it was the right decision. It was further confirmed when I saw Jesse’s face, the tears shining in his hazel eyes, when we started down the aisle, Emma and I walking hand in hand.
I probably should have warned him ahead of time, but, as he loves to remind me, I love the drama.
I held it together for the most part as we walked down the aisle to an instrumental version of Mumford & Sons’ “I Will Wait.” When we reached the end, he took Emma’s hand first, pressing a kiss to her forehead and whispering something softly to her before tipping his chin for her to stand beside her aunt. He turned back to me then, putting a hand out, a tear falling, and somehow, in that moment, I knew what he was thinking: that in ten or twenty or, more preferably for him, thirty years, she’ll be wearing white again as he walks her down that aisle to give her away.
That’s what made my own tears start.
Even though it’s not part of the ceremony, and even though Madden, who somehow convinced us to let him officiate, groaned aloud, Jesse pulled me into him, pressing his lips to mine, hard and fast. He whispered, “I love you,”one last time before we were legally tied together, like a reminder or a reassurance he knew I needed.
I stare at the photo fondly, marveling at how different my life was just a few years ago. I guess if I have one thing to thank my mother for, it’s pushing me to the place where I was always meant to be.
The alarm on my phone rings, and I race to the bathroom, checking to see the results before closing my eyes and letting out a shaky breath. Then, without a second thought, I make my way to the front door, where I put on a pair of boots, ugly as all get out, but since I’m headed out to find my husband on the farm, they’re my only choice. In a last-minute decision, I grab the thin jacket I wear when I go out to do farm chores with Jesse occasionally. Once outside, I slide out my phone and open up the app for Jesse’s location and find he’s not far, at the field closest to our house, and make my way there.
I’m not far from him when I spot her, and despite my desire to find Jesse as quickly as possible, my steps slow, a smile spreading on my lips.
She always finds me when I need her most.
Jane moves out from behind a tree and moves closer to me. Behind her, a smaller deer stumbles, white spots covering her back. I don’t speak as she comes up to me, then lets me pet her as is our way. Reaching into my pocket, I grab the treats I carry just in case, handing one to her and dropping another for her baby. They both chew happily, and I watch them in silence for a minute before Jane steps closer, her nose bumping at my still flat belly.
“How do you know?” I whisper, my eyes watering. It happens a lot lately, something I thought was because my period was impending. But when Emma’s came and went with no sign from mine, I wondered if maybe it had happened. I’d stopped my birth control in May, though we weren’t actively trying, instead going with awhen it happens, it happensmentality for a bit.
The test on my bathroom counter says it happened.
“I guess we did okay for ourselves, all things considered,” I murmur to her, my hand smoothing over the top of her head. As if she knows what I’m saying, she looks behind her at her baby, then back to me. Her baby nibbles on some grass, impatiently waiting for her mother to finish. “We’ll give them what we didn’t have.” The words come out in a croak, my throat aching. When Jane nudges my stomach again, I shake my head.
It might be strange, talking to an animal, but I’ve always thought of Jane as like me—a lost girl, navigating things alone, as well as someone who, by some chance, brought Jesse and me together. “I haven’t told him yet,” I murmur. “That’s why I’m looking for him. Have you seen him?”
