Bobbi placed a hand on her hip, entirely undeterred. “Oh, I don’t know. Someone creative could figure it out.”
I leaned into my man, smiling against his shoulder. “I’ll work on that,” I whispered.
His head tilted down, eyes catching mine. “You will?”
I shrugged, feigning innocence. “You never know. Just in case.”
We shared a quiet look—one filled with all the things we weren’t in a hurry to name, but already felt. Then he dipped his head and kissed me, slow and soft, like there wasn’t a party happening around us.
Someone whistled. Bobbi cackled. And I didn’t care. Not one bit.
We weren’t rushing. We weren’t performing. We were building something real. And when the time came—when we were ready—we’d do it our way. Preferably in a small chapel tucked into the trees with terrible cell service and lots of cake.
But for now, I had champagne and a job I loved working alongside Bobbi as guest relations manager. Most important of all, though, I had the man who’d accidentally stolen my heart by pretending to be someone else, then proving to me who he really was.
Mine.
EPILOGUE
TREY
The chapel wasn’t fancy.
It wasn’t white marble with high ceilings or chandeliers that cost more than my truck. It was small, wooden, and tucked into the edge of town like it had always belonged there, right between the pines and the road winding up toward the mountain. The pews were full, reminding us that we were very, very loved.
And very, very lucky.
Lauryn was at the other end of the aisle, looking at me like she saw the rest of our lives. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life. She wore a dress that floated when she walked, like a breeze was blowing through the chapel but only affecting her. Her hair was twisted up, little loose curls brushing her cheek, and her eyes—those deep, brown eyes—never left mine.
I used to think love was quiet. Simple. Something that sat in your chest and made you feel warm now and then. But with Lauryn, it was so much more. It wrapped itself around me. I felt warm even when she wasn’t nearby, just knowing I had her love.
She reached the front and slid her hand into mine, and I swear the whole world stilled. I wanted to memorize the wayher fingers curled between mine, how her smile wobbled right before she whispered, “Hi,” like this wasn’t the biggest moment of our lives. I wanted to remember every second forever.
Because we’d earned it.
We’d worked side by side for months, rebuilding the inn into something we were proud of. She helped pick out furniture, light fixtures, and curtain rods like it mattered—and it did. It wasn’t just an inn. It was my family’s business. The place where we first saw each other. The place where she now worked alongside my aunt every day.
I’d proposed right there in the bed of my truck, parked beneath the stars at the same drive-in where she gave me her first kiss. The same night she gave me her first everything. I’d laid out a blanket and packed a little basket of snacks she loved—half of which I forgot to take out of the grocery bag—and I was sweating through my shirt like a teenager.
She thought we were just watching some old black-and-white film projected on a plywood screen. But when I asked if she wanted to fast-forward to our happily ever after and pulled out the ring, she cried. Then she tackled me. I took that as a yes.
Now here we were, standing in front of our friends, who’d become our family, with Mackenzie in the front row grinning like she’d planned the royal wedding. Bobbi sniffled loudly behind her tissue, muttering, “It’s about time” to no one in particular. Logan had a crooked tie and a smirk, and even Blade—stone-faced as always—nodded once when we said I do.
I kissed her like she was oxygen. Like the last two years had all been leading to this one moment. And maybe they had.
We walked out into a flurry of flower petals and cheers, hand in hand, our faces aching from smiling. I helped her into my truck, which our friends had covered inJust Marrieddecorations—streamers, glittery hearts, and about thirty tiny bells someone had zip-tied to the bumper.
She looked over at me, radiant and flushed. And then her hand landed on my thigh.
“Lauryn,” I said, aiming for stern, but it came out rough and low.
Her fingers slid a little higher. “Yes, husband?”
“Don’t say that like I won’t pull this truck over.”
She just grinned and leaned in, whispering, “Save it for the honeymoon?”
“Just a few more hours and you’re all mine.”
