EPILOGUE: JULIAN
4 MONTHS LATER
The wheat field blows gently with the breeze while the sun shines in the pristine blue sky. It’s tranquil out here. It started out as our weekend home, the perfect escape from the city. A house in Everhope was a surprise I casually sprung on Savannah when she moved into my place in the city. We still have it, as we do need to be at the office. If it weren’t for the company office, we would be here most of the time. For now, I enjoy walking down Main Street and grabbing a cup of coffee in the morning. There’s always someone talking about the high school’s upcoming Friday-night game; they’re good this year.
Savannah beams as she surveys the patio, clearly impressed by the organization. “Wow, the purple and silver balloons are a nice touch.”
“Your replacement arranged them.” Because it pained both of us to admit that Savannah and I were right, that working together isn’t for us. We want to keep ourselves separate; plus, she has gone freelance with recruiting PAs forcompanies. Still, the new assistant doesn’t have the same sense of sass to keep my day moving, but she is organized.
I survey the beer on ice over on a table near the pool and BBQ area. There’s comfort in the simplicity. No need for overpriced champagne bottles; instead, classic bottles of beer and pitchers of iced tea. It’s not going to be too big a gathering, but still large enough. It’s Savannah’s birthday, and I had to persuade her that we should do something. It could be anything. All she wanted was modest, similar to what she would have with her family.
“My aunt is bringing the cake. Elodie has a salad. And you are going to impress us with your grilling skills,” she goads me.
I snake my arm around her middle, pulling her against me with a playful grin. “Hey, don’t be like that. I’ve improved on that. I even took a grilling class,” I remind her.
She chuckles. “That was a good present, wasn’t it?” She smirks. For my birthday, she sent me to a grilling class since that skill needed some tips. I was a little offended, but she made up for it two minutes later when she revealed present number two underneath her dress.
“I do believe, however, I win on the present front,” I challenge her as she drapes her arms around my neck and gives me a beaming smile.
“Oh yeah.That,” she teases me as she raises her hand and appraises the new diamond on her ring finger. We’ve been moving fast. Somehow it feels like our speed, though. “I won myself a fiancé during a match of Go Fish last night.”
It wasn’t a plan—just a sudden burning need. I’d kept the box, heavy with hope, hidden in my pocket, expecting to propose today, surrounded by those we love. Yet, when she asked for sixes, and I was stuck holding nines, the impulse seized me. Her laughter at my blurted proposal loosenedevery nerve, and when she crashed into my arms to kiss me hard, joy burst through me like fireworks.
“Everyone is going to flip,” she notes.
My face squinches. “Will they?” I feign doubt. “Because I’m positive they have a betting pool going on.”
“Very true,” she agrees matter-of-factly.
She pulls back so my hands can frame her beautiful face. Our eyes meet, and every time, I’m reminded how lucky I am. Half her mouth stretches; she’s probably reading my mind.
“Yes. You’re lucky. I’m lucky,” she informs me. Point proven.
I shake my head side to side, amused, before diving in for a kiss, one that allows my tongue to slip in. She murmurs from the power of the kiss. Not exactly chaste for a family festivity, but luckily, we’re still alone while the sound of cars pulling up to the house is in the background. We reluctantly part, only to snag one more quick kiss.
“Tell me something to kill the dirty thoughts in my head,” I beg her in a whisper.
A bright smile appears. “No can do. I keep revisiting myself naked with only your ring on last night.However, for the sake of trying to remember that you have to bless us all with your grilling? No pressure or anything.Ooh, and someone is bringing an ambrosia salad.” She pats my chest.
I step back, putting some space between us as I cringe. “I thought they outlawed that in the 1970s.”
She starts to walk away, then glances over her shoulder and points at me. “Remember, no refined personal-chef palate. We're doing family style, and don’t pretend you hate it. Betty down the street told me the lie you fed.”
“Fine. Only if she ditches the tangerines for pineapple.”
Savannah continues her stride toward the open slidingdoors to our renovated kitchen. “Start the grill,” she orders aloud. “I need to find the juice boxes for Lola.”
“Bossy,” I call out.
A few minutes later, I’m successful at preparing the grill and checking my seasoning inventory next to the plate of burgers. The backyard is now bustling as people arrive. Hugs. More hugs. And if in doubt, just hug. I’m mentally preparing for what happens when we share the engagement news.
I tip my head up when Hayes arrives. He grabs two bottles of beer from the bucket and beelines straight to me.
“Look what the cows dragged in.” I grin as he hands me a drink.
“Only for you did my navigation send me through corn fields to get to your weekend chalet.”
I take the bottle, line it up on the edge of the cooking station counter, press down to pop the cap off, then hand it back.
