I exhaled and gripped the bed.
She wasminenow.
Mine.
And I washers.
We belonged to each other, heart and soul.
Epilogue 2
Leah
Five years later.
I had butterflies in my belly watching Cindy fuss with her necklace in the mirror.
The Little Pink Wedding Chapel lived up to its name in every possible way. Pink was everywhere.
Becky and Leland had built something special here, a place where love stories got their happy endings, and today it was Cindy’s turn.
“How did you know?” Cindy asked.
Her eyes were bright with nervous excitement, and the vintage lace gown she’d chosen made her look like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. “With Jameson, I mean. How did you know so fast that he was the one?”
I smiled, settling deeper into the pink velvet chair in the corner of the bridal suite.
“When you know, you know. That’s what everyone says, and I always thought it was such a cliché until it happened to me.”
“But you’d only known him foronenight,” Cindy pressed. “One night in some old cabin in the middle of nowhere, and then you just… moved your whole life across the country for him.”
“It wasn’t just one night.”
I thought back to that storm, and the firelight dancing across Jameson’s face while he told me about his childhood and his parents who couldn’t stop fighting, and the sister he’d grown closer to as a result.
“It waseverythingthat happened that night. I took one look at your brother and knew my life would never be the same again. He’s the kind of man you grab and hold on to as tight as you can.”
From her spot behind Cindy, their grandmother Helen made a soft sound of approval.
Her weathered hands never stopped moving, pinning one last curl into place with practiced precision. “That’s how it was with my Harold,” she said. “One dance at a church social and I knew I’d marry that man. Fifty-two years we had together before he passed.”
Finding Helen had been one of the greatest gifts I’d ever given Jameson.
After we got together, I insisted we try to track down his missing family. He’d been resistant at first, convinced that the past was better left buried, but I’d worn him down with persistence and the promise of something he’d never had… roots.
It had taken months of digging through records and making awkward phone calls, but we’d recovered a grandmother on hismother’s side, plus a whole network of cousins and a few aunts and uncles scattered across the country.
None of them lived in the Ozarks, buteverysingle one had come for our wedding three years ago. And now they were all here again, filling the pews of the Little Pink Wedding Chapel to watch Cindy marry the love of her life.
Even Jameson’s mom and dad were here, under the promise that they stay on opposite sides of the aisle.
Jameson still wasn’t close with his mom, but he’d made good strides with his father.
And now it felt like he had a family. A real family. Something he and Cindy had never thought they’d have when they were growing up.
The door burst open and a tiny whirlwind of pink tulle came racing in, her flower basket swinging wildly from one small hand.
“Is it time yet? Is it time?” Olivia asked, bouncing on her toes. Her red curls, so like mine, were already escaping from the careful braids Helen had done this morning.
