“You can say that again.”
Epilogue | Leah | Six Weeks Later
The same dinner cruise boat that changed my life three years ago rocks gently beneath my feet, but this time, I’m not gripping the railing. Now, I’m Mrs. Hays Granger, and the only thing making my pulse race is the way my new husband keeps looking at me as if he wants to devour me whole.
Six weeks. That’s how long it took us to plan this wedding once Hays won the U.S. Open. Not because we were rushing, but simply because we’d already waited long enough. And when I called to book the date—exactly three years from the day we met, smack in the middle of our birthdays—and the boat was available, it felt like the pieces falling perfectly into place.
The overhead string lights cast the same magical glow they did that first night, but now, they’re celebrating us. Champagne flows freely and laughter echoes across the deck. Everywhere I look, our two worlds have blended seamlessly. Hays’s buddies are sharing stories and, from the looks of it, tongues soon, too, with my friends.
A server appears at my elbow with a familiar drink on a silver tray. "Rum and Coke with a lime for Mrs. Granger. Compliments of your husband."
I laugh, accepting the glass. "Thank you."
Barely a second later, my husband approaches with a wide smile.
"The drink that got me to follow up with you that first night," I say, lifting the glass as I smile at the memory. "I was so nervous."
He presses a kiss to my hair. "And now?"
I look at him, even more devastating than I remember. "Now I know exactly where I belong."
“Glad you finally realized it.”
“Hey, I agreed that night, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” he admits, taking a sip of his own drink, “but it was touch and go there for a little bit.”
“True.”
I look around and spot Hays’s mom, deep in conversation with Tabitha about something that has them both doubled over with laughter. But it’s the sight of Rory, today’s best man, leaning against the bar, completely captivated by whatever my gorgeous maid of honor is laughing about, that makes me smile the widest.
“Look at that,” I murmur, nodding toward them as Hays’s arms slip around my waist from behind.
“About damn time,” he says, his breath warm against my ear.
“She’s been asking about him since that first night.” I lean back against his solid chest, the soft fabric of his mint green dress shirt smooth against my bare shoulders. “Though, I think your matchmaking skills need work, hotshot.”
His laugh rumbles through me. “My matchmaking skills got me you, didn’t they?”
“Sean’s taking credit for that.” I lift my chin toward where his brother is regaling a small crowd with the story of his proposalnight, complete with a dramatic reenactment of his popping the question.
“He’s not wrong,” Hays murmurs against my temple, a smile in his voice. “Without his romantic dinner cruise idea, we never would have found each other.”
“Because I certainly wasn’t to be found at the Harbor course.”
“Come with me,” Hays says suddenly, taking my hand and swiping a half empty bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket as he leads me away from the crowd.
I follow without question, my heels clicking against the deck as he guides me to the exact spot where we made our impossible pact three years ago. The same railing, the same view of the harbor stretching out toward the lighthouse, the same feeling that anything is possible.
But everything else has changed.
“You’re even more gorgeous tonight than I could have imagined,” he says, his voice dropping to that velvet tone that still makes my knees weak.
“Wait until you see me later…in white.”
He hums under his breath. “Please tell me you ordered all the colors.”
I chuckle. “You remember that?”
