Choosing You (Gravity Hill #3)

61. Epilogue

G raduation.

After playing catch up after one hell of a first year, we all made it. In green and gold, wearing caps and gowns. Our dads crowd us all together, snapping pictures and rotating in and out, capturing all of us together.

It’s been a wild ride, and at some points I didn’t think we’d all be here together.

After Henry takes pictures with Fern, I slide my arms around his waist and bring him into my chest. Planting my lips on his, he smiles. Hoots and hollers sound all around us, but I don’t care.

“Come with me,” I command more than ask. He nods with a ridiculous smile, making me dive in for one more kiss.

“We’ll meet you at the house!” I yell over my shoulder, gripping his hand and pulling him toward the parking lot.

I couldn’t have asked for a better spring day. The weather’s sunny, and the air is balmy. We throw off the gowns and hop in my Audi.

“Where are we going?” He asks, rolling down his window.

“You’ll see,” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes and grabs my hand, turning up the radio with the other, and starts to sing along. I love it when he sings. A little off-key, practically yelling and full of joy.

Pulling up to the mansion, he eyes me suspiciously but follows my lead when I exit the car. Walking through the house with our hands locked, he spots the golf cart waiting past the glass doors in the back.

“Banks.” He says, but I ignore him.

“Get in,” I tell him with a wide smile. He does as I ask, hopping into the golf cart. Driving through the fields, passing by Daisy and Rambow, I drive to our spot. The spot where we first made love, the spot where I’ve brought him every year since I got my shit together.

His eyes grow wide at the spread.

I’m so happy Fern got everything out here. The red and white checkered blanket boasts plates of his favorite foods. Champagne rests in a bucket of ice, along with water.

When I park the golf cart, I turn to him, and he grabs my face, kissing me with such force that it makes me laugh.

“I love you,” he says, never missing an opportunity to say it since my stint in the hospital.

Grabbing his hand, I pull him from the cart and walk him to the blanket. He doesn’t let us get settled, instead, he dives into my arms and kisses me until I feel like my lungs only work because of his breath.

His hands roam my body, pushing up the t-shirt I wore beneath the gown to brush his fingers over the scar on my stomach.

Grabbing his chin, I force his eyes to mine, “I love you, Henry Forbes. And I’ll show you every-fucking-day that you let me. Choosing you was inevitable, Fancy.”