That everything would fall into place.
And it has.
My big sister’s more than happy to split secretarial duties with my wife—yeah, my wife.
We went and got hitched.
Vegas-style. Glitter champagne. A Wayne Newton impersonator with too much cologne and just the right amount of smarm.
Greyson flew us out himself in that tin can he calls a plane, and we came back Mr. and Mrs. McCrae.
No regrets. Not a one.
I never gave two shits about my bank account before. But now? I’m real damn grateful I’ve got more than a little something saved up.
Because spoiling Willow is my new favorite hobby.
Thing is, she’s not exactly hurting for money either.
That trust her father left her is no joke, and when she offered to invest in the mill, I told her to tuck that away—for herself.
For the family we’re building.
Because, yeah, we’ve talked about that too.
One or two kids, someday. Maybe more.
Whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her.
Meanwhile, she’s taken over the lunchroom and turned it into something permanent—like a real-deal mountain café.
Mill guys eat there free every day.
Customers show up for the food more than the lumber, I swear.
Even Greyson the hermit shows up once a week now, and Willow packs him care packages like he’s her weird mountain bestie.
He started bringing her little handcrafted gifts in return, and of course my wife couldn’t help herself—snapped pictures, made posts, and next thing you know the guy’s got rich city folk offering six figures for handmade furniture from a man who doesn’t even own a cell phone.
It’s a hoot. But that’s what she does.
She makes people feel seen. Valued. Important.
Hell, I’ve been living in Woodhaven my whole life, and I’m seeing this mountain through new eyes now—her eyes.
Every day I get to work beside her, then bring her home at night? That’s all I ever wanted.
And tonight? I’ve got a surprise waiting.
We’ve been renovating the house.
She still calls it alog cabinbut hell, it’s a damn fortress now.
Added an enormous wraparound deck. Pool. Hot tub. Double swing big enough to curl her up in my lap every sunset.
But tonight, it’s what’s next to the swing that’s the real gift.
“Ready?” I ask as I pull the truck around back.
