We stop, eventually, both safe in the knowledge we can do it again and again, whenever we want.
‘Do you fancy going to the wedding?’ I reply. ‘They keep bringing more food out, there’s music, dancing, and Andy said something about surprise entertainment.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ he replies.
‘And the great news is that we missed doing the dance with them,’ I point out. ‘Huge relief there.’
‘Aww, but I love dancing with ya,’ he replies.
‘We can still dance, just together, on the dance floor, without everyone staring at us,’ I say.
‘Whitney, if there’s one thing I’ve realised, it’s that wherever we go, everyone’s eyes are always on us.’
I take his hand, lacing our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, so that we can go back to the wedding together. We’re almost there when a huge firework display fills the night sky.
‘Looks like the big finale,’ he says.
‘Actually, I think it’s only the beginning,’ I reply. ‘Whatever happens next, I’m glad it’s with you.’
‘Same here, darlin’. Whatever happens, we’ve got each other’s backs.’
I smile, leaning into him as the fireworks continue.
Maybe sometimes love stories start with the fireworks, rather than ending with them. Whatever does happen though, with Jake by my side, I know it’s going to be perfect. So long as we have each other.
34
DECEMBER 2027
I thought summer at Rosewood was beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to winter – especially Christmas.
Fairy lights wind through the bare branches lining the drive, glowing softly against the dimming sky. The lodge glows with warmth, music drifting out of open doors, the smell of pine and cinnamon and mulled wine.
I grab the firewood and carry it back inside, being welcomed back in by the sound of love and laughter from the people inside.
I pick up my mulled wine and warm my hands, glancing back out of the window. It looks like it’s threatening to snow – well, let it. I have nowhere else to be.
Rosewood – our little pocket of it – is completely transformed. New stables, a place for horse-riding lessons, glamping pods and shepherd’s lodges decked out to be writing retreats. So many new reasons for people to visit the estate, and business is booming.
Jake comes up behind me without a sound, in that quiet, sure-footed manner you don’t expect from a big guy, and wraps his arms around my waist. He kisses me on the cheek.
‘You sneakin’ out on me?’ he jokes. ‘Leaving me with this lot?’
‘Just grabbing more wood,’ I reply. ‘I think it’s going to snow.’
‘I love the snow,’ he says with a sigh.
‘That’s because you didn’t grow up sliding on the sludge to get to school,’ I joke. ‘But I love it too now. Especially here.’
Between us, we’ve helped Arty to make Rosewood thrive. Weddings book out years in advance. The equestrian centre runs like a dream under Jake’s care. Kids learn to ride here. Writers come for a quiet and picturesque place to work. Most importantly, new stories begin every day, people meeting, falling in love, getting married, spending time with their families. I love to see it.
My own book came out this year and sold well – better than I expected it to, but I never had that much faith in myself. But Jake was always there, reminding me how great I am, and that mattered so much more than him pretending to be my fiancé.
I’m halfway through the next one now. A cowboy romance, obviously. I’d be lying if I said Jake wasn’t my main source of inspiration, although he does sometimes take issue with how brooding I make him out to be, and he thinks it’s hilarious that I find watching him do basic chores, like chopping wood or cleaning the gutters, so horny. Trust me, when Jake does anything, it’s sexy.
‘Okay, I’m here, and I’ve got the champagne,’ JJ announces as she walks through the door, dumping her bags down like we have staff that will put them in her room for her. ‘Now Christmas can begin.’
She never looks any different, never ages a day, never changes one bit. And I wouldn’t want her to. Some people are meant to stay gloriously and unapologetically themselves forever.
