I love you all, but you’re going to have to figure this one out without me. I’ll call you next week.
Something warm spread through my chest—hope, unmistakable and fragile. “Next week?” I teased.
“I’m going to be busy,” he said, sliding into my side of the booth. “Taking things slow. At your pace.”
“Even the microphone talk?”
He laughed softly against my hair. “Especially the microphone talk.”
I kissed him then—gentle, grateful, full of everything I couldn’t quite put into words yet.
And for the first time in a long time, letting someone choose me didn’t feel terrifying.
EPILOGUE
TEDDIE
The baby monitor on my desk showed two sleeping angels—Naomi in her crib, thumb in her mouth, and three-year-old Josiah sprawled across his toddler bed like a starfish. Knox had finally gotten them both down after a marathon bedtime routine that involved four books, two glasses of water, and one very dramatic retelling of how Daddy rescued a cat from a tree last week.
My husband was a hero to more than just our kids. But watching him do the voices forSquirrel Adventureswas when I loved him most.
I turned back to my computer screen, adjusting my headphones. The home studio Knox had built me two years ago wasn’t fancy—just a converted spare bedroom with acoustic panels on the walls, a decent mic setup, and a secondhand mixing board he’d found online. But it was mine. And somehow, against all odds, it had become a real career.
Two hundred thousand followers. A modest but steady income from streaming. A song that had been picked up for a truck commercial last spring, which still made me laugh every time I heard it on TV. Not exactly Nashville, but I wasn’t inNashville. I was in Wildwood Valley, with my family, doing what I loved.
I was working on something new tonight—a slower song, more personal than my usual covers. I’d been picking at the lyrics for weeks, trying to get them right. The melody was there, haunting and soft, but the words kept slipping away from me.
I sang the chorus again, eyes closed, letting the music carry me. The red light on my mic glowed steadily, capturing everything.
Warm hands settled on my shoulders.
I startled, pulling off my headphones, and found Knox standing behind me with that slow, lazy smile that still made my stomach flip after four years of marriage.
“Kids are out,” he said, his voice low. His thumbs traced circles on the back of my neck, and I shivered. “You’ve been in here for two hours. I’m feeling neglected.”
“I’m working.”
“Mmm.” He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “Keep working, then. Don’t let me distract you.”
His hands slid from my shoulders down my arms, then back up, fingers trailing along the neckline of my shirt. I sucked in a breath.
“Knox.”
“Teddie.” He said my name like a prayer, like a promise. “That mic’s still on, you know.”
I glanced at the desk. The red light glowed back at me, steady and unblinking. Recording.
“I should turn it off,” I said, reaching for the button.
His hand caught my wrist, gentle but firm. “Leave it.”
I turned to look at him, heart hammering. “What?”
That slow smile again, darker now, full of heat. “I want to hear what you sound like when I make you come. A private track. Just for us.”
My pulse spiked at his words, heat flooding through me like wildfire. Knox’s eyes were dark, intent, the same look he’d given me that first day we’d crossed the line from strangers to something irreversible. Only now, there was no hesitation, no holding back. Just us—husband and wife. Parents by day, lovers by night.
I swallowed hard, my hand hovering over the controls. “You’re serious.”
