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She throws me a mischievous look over her shoulder like oops, did I do that? Then she disappears inside with the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
Less than a minute later, the front door flies open again—this time like someone drop-kicked it off its hinges—and the band floods into the cottage like we just won Album of the Year and they’re the ones giving the acceptance speech.
Thorin’s first through the door, scooping Mya into a one-armed hug that lifts her right off her feet and earns a breathless laugh. Benji’s whooping like a kid hopped up on birthday cake and chaos, and Carson barrels in behind him, shouting “CONGRATULATIONS!” so loud one of the twins startles in his car seat and lets out a squawk of protest.
“Volume, bro,” I mutter, reaching down to pop Kody’s pacifier back in.
And just like that, the cottage transforms—buzzing with noise, heat, and that brand of messy love you only get with people who’ve seen you at your worst and stayed anyway. Cheers and chest bumps. Bear hugs and happy tears. Teasing and toasts with sparkling water and juice boxes, because we’re all either parenting, recovering, or just trying to keep our shit together.
It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.
Reese is already mid-spiral, talking a mile a minute as she paces across the kitchen barefoot and glowing like a woman possessed. She’s tossing out ideas like she’s had them saved in a secret folder since I first hinted at the proposal.
“Rustic meets romantic,” she says, spinning toward Mya like she’s pitching a client. “I’m thinking long farm tables under a canopy of twinkle lights. Gauze runners. A floral arch. Ooh—the twins in suspenders and little leather booties!”
Mya blinks, half-laughing, half-terrified. “You okay there, Pinterest?”
“She’s been planning this since I told her I bought the ring,” I mutter to Mya, earning a swat to the shoulder from Reese as she pulls out her phone and starts scrolling.
“Breathe, baby,” Thorin cuts in gently, crossing the room with that calm, anchoring energy only he can pull off in a room full of chaos. He slides an arm around Reese’s waist and tugs her back down to earth. “Let’s slow down before you start booking a dove release and custom calligraphy menus.”
Reese makes a sound that’s part gasp, part scoff. “I was thinking signature cocktails.”
“Of course you were,” he says, kissing the side of her head. “But how about we keep it simple tonight? The kids are already winding down. We put them to bed, then light up the pit, toss some steaks on the grill, and celebrate with our people.”
She opens her mouth like she might protest, then exhales, her expression softening. “Okay. But I’m making s’mores. And I want at least one string of fairy lights.”
“Deal,” Thorin says.
The tension bleeds from the room like someone opened a window and let in something better. Easier. Real.
I glance over at Mya.
She’s standing by the couch, rocking Kody in her arms, his cheek smushed to her shoulder. One hand cradles his head. The other, her left, catches the low glow of the setting sun just right—diamond flashing on her finger like it knows it’s finally home.
She looks up and catches me watching.
And I swear time just… stills.
No big speeches. No confetti.
Just a look.
And everything in me settles.
“Bonfire sounds perfect,” I say, voice low, honest.
She nods once, eyes shining. “Yeah. It really does.”
Epilogue
MYA
A year and some change later
The air smells like summer and sugar—honeysuckle in full bloom, fresh-cut grass, and the faintest trace of baked vanilla wafting from the cottage kitchen. If heaven had a scent, it’d be today.
I stand in front of the antique mirror that Reese swore would give me “old-world bridal vibes,” and for once, she might be right. The glass is warped at the corners, edges kissed with gold leaf and history, and it reflects back a girl who looks like the inside of a Pinterest board brought to life.
