Epilogue #2
She arches a brow, teasing. “Careful. You’re giving me permission to blow the budget on flowers.”
I huff out a laugh, but the sound sticks. This is the moment. I don’t want to keep anything back, not now, not ever again.
“Janie,” I say, and my tone makes her still. “There’s something you should know.”
Her smile falters. “What kind of something?”
I take her hands, both of them, anchoring myself.
“After my father died, I learned there was an irrevocable trust he couldn’t dissolve.
I tried to refuse it, but that wasn’t an option.
It sat untouched for the last year while we built our life.
But now, with our baby on the way, Beckett, you, it’s clear now that it's meant for us.”
Her brows knit. “I don't understand. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you don't have to think about flower budgets."
"How much are we talking?”
I let out a slow breath. “Enough that you will never have to worry. Not about money. Not about security. Not ever.”
She blinks at me, once, twice, like she’s waiting for the punchline. Then she laughs softly, shaking her head. Her fingers tighten around mine, eyes wide. “You could have told me.”
“I wanted to earn my way back first.”
She studies me, her eyes searching. Then she exhales slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. Her grip on my hands tightens.
“Thank you for loving me, for believing in me and our family. I know I've been hard on you after everything we've been through. And you never stopped showing up. You more than earned your way back first. I love you, Warren Carter."
"I love you, Janie Harrelson. I'll never stop showing up for you and our family."
She leans into my side as we start walking again, her head resting against my shoulder. “No more damn secrets between us, though. Got it?”
“No more,” I echo.
Ahead, the lights of the center glow steadily in the dark, a beacon for everyone who will walk through those doors. For her. For our son. For the baby only we know about. For the family we’re building.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t just hope for a future and a family. I see it. With her. With us.
Always.
If you love steamy doctor one-night stands and second chances at love, check out Doctor Second Chance, the first standalone book in the Doctor Feel Good Series. Dr. Shep Duncan is a single father with a fierce protector vibe.
Who knew a trip to the ER in a strange city would bring me face-to-face with the man who shattered my world a decade ago?
A freak accident lands me in an unfamiliar hospital. The last person I expect to see is Shep, my ex from another lifetime.
The moment our eyes lock, the world stops turning. The same burning connection between us is still there, only now I hate him with every fiber of my being.
He chose med school in another city over me, breaking promises and my heart. Now, here in the flesh, there is an intensity in him that still makes me wet.
Stuck in his city for rehab, I can't escape him or my feelings. Each touch and lingering glance erodes my defenses, devouring my resolve.
As I recover, Shep's unwavering support forces me to reconsider everything. Can I leave the past behind and make it work, or is there too much baggage and distance to undo the past?
Sneak Peek of Chapter 1
Isabella’s House, Birmingham, AL
Five of us from college are here, executing my party battle plan for our friend’s engagement party like it’s a military operation.
Because if we don’t nail tonight, I won’t sleep, wondering why everyone else gets a love story, and I’m always organizing the backdrop… and somehow screwing that up too.
“I don’t want it to be fine. I want it to be perfect,” I tell Sophie as she wrestles with the lights.
“It’s a backyard party, Elle. Not a royal wedding.”
The Birmingham heat clings to me like a second skin as I nudge the terracotta pot a quarter inch to the left. The ferns still look wrong, though, and I can’t figure out why.
A horn blares in the distance, breaking the spell for a second.
This yard might look peaceful, but we’re still in the city, and being here stirs up more complicated feelings than I’m ready to unpack.
Mostly because he’s somewhere out there, probably living his best life while I’m sweating through my tank top, alphabetizing cocktail napkins.
God, even now, ten years later, just being in this city makes me think of him.
Izzy’s getting her happily ever after. I’m the best friend who’s making sure it photographs well.
At least I’ve got that.
“It’s Izzy’s night,” I say again. “She deserves perfection.”
I nudge the pot again. If I can get it just right, maybe the rest of my life will follow.
I plant my hands on my hips and let my gaze sweep over the yard.
“Elley-Bell. We’ve been at this for over four hours.” Charity wipes sweat from her forehead. “Everyone is exhausted, and it’s hot as hell. Don’t you think we’re done? I mean, it looks good to me. Better than good.”
I know most people don’t have my insane meticulousness, but this is the one party we are throwing for our best friend. I want to tell them to suck it up, but I smile instead.
“We’re so close, y’all. This looks amazing. Seriously. Just a few more touches and we can call it. Deal?”
Vic, our most dramatic male friend in our group, groans from the bar as he swipes his hat on the bar. “Why does that sound exactly like what you said an hour ago? Is this some Severance nightmare?”
Charity laughs. “God, I’m obsessed with that show. The goats still haunt me.”
"Right? And Milchick? I swear he's way more involved than we know."
“I’m counting down the days to the next drop,” Charity says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Obsessed doesn’t even cover it.”
“What are y’all talking about?” I eye the runner on the table, half interested.
“Severance, Apple TV+,” Sophie jumps in. “Elle, don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”
“Who has time for TV? Y’all need to get a life,” I chortle. “After you fix that light strand, of course. Chop-chop.”
Vic grunts. “She wouldn’t like it anyway. Too much mystery. Not enough dolphins.”
Sophie raises that one eyebrow she’s so good at doing as she nudges one of the big planters. “I don’t know. I think Elle might love it. Endless rules. Color-coded departments. You’d have that place running smoother than Lumon’s creepy wellness floor.”
I act like I’m considering what they are talking about, but my eyes are already moving. I can’t help it.
“Vic, the lights. See that strand by the fence? It’s sagging at the end. Can you pull it tighter? It’ll balance the whole thing.”
He mutters something under his breath, but he’s already reaching for the ladder. Such a good boy!
“Charity, love of my life and table-setter extraordinaire…”
“You know just how to butter me up.”
“The runner’s bunched on the buffet corner. It’ll show in pictures.”
Charity groans but smooths it out. “You’re lucky I love you. And fine, you're right. Barely.”
“I do appreciate it.”
“And Sophie, the pot by the far corner. You did amazing with those, by the way. They frame the patio like they were created for this exact purpose.”
“My specialty!”
“The one with the ivy needs to shift it toward the post just a bit, right? Or am I imagining things? From here, it doesn’t look like it’s lined up with the other one.”
Sophie gives me a long look, but there’s a smile at the edge of it. “You missed your calling. You should’ve been an event planner.”
I shrug, wiping my hands on my shorts. “I’d work myself into an early grave if I did this for a living. It’s never done. Never perfect enough. I need order I can actually control.”
Sophie drags a chair across the patio, loud on the herringbone brick. “Jury’s still out. You may just get yourself that if you don’t chill soon.”
“So melodramatic.”
I nudge the napkin stack on the buffet table into alignment as Charity gives me the side eye. I blow her a kiss.
I scan the setup again. The candles on the mantle aren’t evenly spaced, and the bow on the left side of the mantel is cattywampus. God, how did I miss that? That was my specific job!
Charity dumps a box of tea lights onto the table. “Elle, thank you for being so on this. As much as we complain, we need your attention to detail. The set-up is stunning, and it is going to be the party of the year. You really did make this yard perfect.”
I bite back the urge to grab the ladder right then. The yard looks beautiful. I can fix the mantel in a minute.
“It’s Izzy’s night. It’s got to be—”
“Magnificent?” Vic blurts as he tightens the light strand, muttering under his breath about slave labor.
“Yes,” I reply, lighting up. “Good word choice, Vic. She’s landed the love of her life. Now we get to celebrate. We should all be so lucky.”
Lucile, always in her Southern maxi dress, even in this weather, appears at the fence. Ice clinks in the full glass pitcher she’s carrying. “Lord, Elle, you’re gonna work yourself to death out here. Y’all need a staff. Brought some fresh iced tea for everyone.”
She sets the pitcher down on the silver-plated coaster on the table. I glance at the pitcher, willing it not to drip condensation onto the white tablecloth. That coaster is beautiful, but it will do nothing to protect it.
“She has a staff,” Vic quips. “We are the staff.”
Sophie stands from and brushes off her hands into the pot, eyeing me like she’s debating knocking me flat. “Elle. Have some tea.” She grabs a red Solo cup and fills it from the pitcher. “You’re overheating.”
She hands me the cup.
I take a sip, mostly to appease her. The sweet, sharp taste hits my tongue, cold for half a second before the heat swallows it up. I set the cup down on the brick ledge, already reaching to straighten a chair leg that’s shifted on the brick.
Charity laughs. “Remember Izzy’s birthday cake in college? When she tried to bake it herself and nearly set the dorm kitchen on fire?”