I wouldn’t have Margie.
I wouldn’t have Sawyer, Sorcha, and Denver.
Denver’s kids.
I wouldn’t have any of them, and Eddy and I would’ve definitely been in different places in our lives.
Without the support of the Windsor matriarch, where would we be?
Boone came back into the room, dropped down to one knee, and cupped his gram’s face.
There was a soft smile there, as if she was peaceful and happy when she’d gone.
“Fuck.”
I wrapped my arms around Boone’s shoulders from behind and kissed his neck.
“I’m sorry, Boone.”
He made a soft, broken sound in his throat. “She went a hell of a lot longer than I could’ve without you.”
Margery told us once that her Sol was the love of her life, and she dreamed about being with him again one day.
But Boone was right.
How long could I live without him here?
Just the thought of a world without him in it was debilitating.
“She’s back in his arms, Boone,” I whispered. “Right where she’s wanted to be since he left her here.”
He squeezed my arm. “Fuckin’ sucks, though.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It does.”
Six days later, we buried Gram beneath the weeping willow behind her old cottage next to her husband.
It was the most beautiful, sunny day we’d had in a while.
Margie giggled and screamed happily throughout the entire service.
The Windsor family was silent.
My heart was still broken.
But I knew it would heal.
With Boone at my side, anything was possible.
And as a pair of white doves landed on the headstone of Sol Windsor, I knew that they were once again together.
A sign that she was finally where she was always meant to be.
Epilogue
Life would be a lot more fun if everyone’s middle name was motherfuckin’.
—Nettie to Boone
