When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"Go," he said softly. "Pick out your dress. Build your dreams. I'll be right here when you get back."
I pressed a hand to his chest, felt the strong beat of his heart underneath. "My home," I breathed.
"Always," he whispered.
He straightened, placed his hat back on his head, and gave me that crooked cowboy grin that melted every last piece of me. As Maggie herded me toward the truck and Klaus shouted that he wanted to ride horses again and Hilde clapped her hands in delight, I looked back one last time.
Gideon sat tall in the saddle, turning his horse toward the pastures, sun crowning them both in gold. And I knew—without doubt, without fear, without hesitation: my story had begun the moment he walked into that bar in Berlin.
But this… this was the happily-ever-after I had always dreamed about and never dared to hope for. This was the life I'd fought for.
This was love. And at last…
This—him, his family—was home.
EPILOGUE
Montana — August 16, 1948, Monday, late morning
The house buzzed like a beehive.Women rushed up and down the hall with flowers, ribbons, and baskets. Somewhere outside, someone was hammering the last wooden arch plank into place. From the porch came bursts of laughter and the thumping hooves of restless horses.
I stood in the center of one of the upstairs master bedroom suites—a suite that after today would be mine and Gideon's—in my wedding dress, hardly recognizing myself.
The gown I had picked was simple but breathtaking: soft ivory, cinched at the waist, the skirt falling in layers that brushed the tops of my new boots. My hair was pinned half-up, the rest cascading in curls down my back. WhenI moved, the dress whispered like something out of a dream.
Behind me, Molly groaned dramatically.
"I swear, if one more person tells me howprettyI look, I'm gonna throw myself into the horse trough," she grumbled, tugging at the soft blue dress Maggie forced her into.
I laughed. "You look beautiful, Molly."
She pointed at me suspiciously. "You only say that because you're glowing like a saint. It's unfair. Some of us are not made for lace."
She grumbled even harder when Hilde, who was twirling in her tiny flower-girl dress, said, "Molly, du bist sooo hübsch!"
I grinned, "She thinks you're pretty."
"See?" Molly muttered. "Now I can't even argue with a six-year-old."
I reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you for being my maid of honor."
She softened instantly. "Of course." Then she added, leaning close, "But if you later want to demote me to bridesmaid, I won't be hurt."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
She just winked. "We'll see. Griffin men can be full of surprises."
Before I could question that, a sudden commotion erupted downstairs, shouts of surprise, hurried footsteps, and Maggie's unmistakable squeal.
Molly's grin spread slowly, wickedly, as she straightened the bodice of her dress.
"Oh," she said, eyes sparkling, "that'll be your surprise."
"What surprise?" I asked, heart skipping nervously.
But she only nodded toward the stairs. "Go look."
