“The future Mrs. Wolfe Boy!” she shrieks.
I turn to see her beaming face, mascara running down her cheeks. Behind her, Beau stands in the doorway, his usual stoic expression cracking as a reluctant smile spreads across his face.
“I’m not crying, you are,” Whitley insists, furiously wiping at her face.
My hands tremble as I stare at the ring on my finger, the emerald catching the light from the strings overhead.
“It’s almost midnight!” Whitley announces, checking her phone. “We should get back to the house.”
Rowan’s arms tighten around me. “Give us a minute,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.
Once Whitley and Beau take off toward the house, Rowan nudges my hand. “Check the inside of the ring.
I slip it off my finger, tilting it until I notice the tiny engraving on the inside.
Always yours.
Tears blur my vision, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “You really did this.”
“I did,” he says, his thumb brushing over my knuckle. “I want you to know, every single day, that I’m yours, Violet. And you’re mine. Always.”
He helps me slip the ring back on, and I rest my forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Everyalmostandwhat ifare nothing but distant memories now.
Rowan was my first love. The one that gave me butterflies in my stomach that I clung to when I didn’t know better.
Rowan was my second love. The unraveling that taught me how to survive heartbreak.
But above all else, Rowan is my third love. The love that found me when I wasn’t chasing it anymore.
The love that’s here to stay.
epilogue
. . .
Violet
Two Years Later
The air smells like cedar and the promise of spring.
It’s a little early for green, but the world is finally waking up again. I’m standing just beyond the back porch, boots planted in the damp grass, hand resting on the small curve of my stomach.
Bramble barks somewhere off to the left, chasing Echo.
This is the life we built.
One fence, one kiss, one truth-telling, heart-healing moment at a time.
Rowan joins me, arms sliding around my waist from behind. He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, right beneath my ear. He says it’s his favorite spot because it always makes me shiver, no matter how warm it is.
“You good?” he murmurs.
“Mmhmm.” I lean back into him, letting the weight of his body remind me that this isn’t a dream.
“Do you ever think about us back then?” I ask, looking up at him.
“All the time.”
