Epilogue
EPILOGUE
1 YEAR LATER
“I think this blue is going to look great,” I smile as I dip my paint roller into the pan of paint sitting on the floor.
“It’s a great color for a nursery, Campbell,” Blake smiles, leaning on the door frame of the room I’m currently standing in.
“Not funny, Fisher,” I grunt, turning back to the wall. “Blue is supposed to be calming. It’s the perfect color for my new office.”
I laugh it off, but Blake’s comment makes my heart jump. He’s been doing that since the minute we decided to give this thing another shot.
“Are you going to stand there and look pretty, or are you going to help?” I say, turning around and placing my free hand on my hip for good measure.
My heart stammers again at the sight of him. I have seen every inch of Blake Fisher, but somehow, I always feel like that same eight-year-old just begging for a bit of attention from her crush. I am undeniably in love with the man standing across the room, and I want to shout it from the rooftops.
“I know how much you like to look, Campbell. Why deprive you of such a treat?”
“Ass,” I mutter under my breath before continuing my handy work.
Blake and I moved into our apartment in Honey Grove a few weeks ago, and this was the first free day I had to finally paint my office. Based on the pale pink currently painting the walls, I assumed it was a child’s bedroom. I liked pink, but I liked the idea of a fresh start for my new office.
My office , I repeat in my head. Sometimes I have to pinch myself when I think about how far my small business has come in such a short amount of time.
I am currently handling content strategies for five different small businesses in town and the surrounding area. Now I am at the point where I need to bring on a part-time employee to help with the influx of work.
Everything is going great. I love my job, I have my friends and family close, and I have Blake. I am happy, and all it took was finding my home again. My true home.
“Did you talk to Emma today?” Blake asks from behind me.
“Yeah,” I answer while continuing to roll on more paint. “She moved the last of her stuff into her mom’s place today.”
“How is she taking the divorce?”
I contemplate his question for a moment while I continue to coat the wall in its first coat of light blue. Emma revealed the extent of her relationship issues with Colt to me last summer, and since then, it seemed to get worse.
Initially, they tried couples counseling, but after a while, it was clear that they’d both been checked out of the relationship for some time. Emma even admitted to me that if it wasn’t for Milo, she would’ve pulled the plug two years ago.
“She’s fine, I think,” I say before setting the paint roller down. “She seems really good, actually. Maybe too good, if that makes sense.”
It’s true. Emma and Colt filed for divorce three months ago, and everything was finalized a few days ago. I expected her to have some sort of reaction, but she didn’t seem fazed at all. A ten-year-long relationship, and she didn’t even shed a tear.
The entire separation had been amicable, which was odd to me. My entire life, I saw divorce as such a life-altering thing. It’s almost like divorce wasn’t an option in our small town. You were either happy, or you became complacent. There really wasn’t any in-between.
But Emma seems lighter now in this new chapter of her life. I know there are great things ahead for her, but I do worry about how this town will treat her after hearing the news. There are still a lot of old-fashioned people in Honey Grove, and they are not easily silenced. All I know is I will be there with her every step of the way.
“If you want, I could offer to watch Milo while you girls have a night out,” Blake offers, taking a step closer.
“I don’t think she’ll let you watch him after the last time,” I remind him.
“Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad.”
“You taught him how to fetch beer out of the cooler. He’s a human child, Blake. Not a dog,” I say, shaking my head. I thought it was hilarious, but I can see why Emma was upset. In two more years, he will be starting preschool, and that isn’t exactly icebreaker material.
“Colt thought it was cool,” he mutters under his breath.
When Colt and Emma broke up, I figured I’d have to take sides, but again, I was wrong. Em and Colt were excellent co-parents, and we all still get along great.
They were just two people who weren’t meant to be together forever. I’m just grateful they were able to recognize it before things turned ugly.
I roll my eyes and shake my head before turning around to pick up the discarded paint roller. Today is the only day I have to get this office painted, and I intend to finish it. There just happens to be a very big distraction across the room, taunting me with his perfect smile and impeccable Wrangler-clad ass.
As I finish rolling on the first coat of paint, I feel two strong arms wrap around me from behind. “Blake, I need to get this done today,” I whine.
Before I can argue anymore, he gently takes the paint roller from my hand and sets it safely on the ground. In one swift motion, he grabs my hips and turns my entire body so I’m facing him.
“You can take one little break, Campbell,” he reasons before planting his lips on mine. It’s a simple peck, but it leaves me wanting more.
Before I can go in for another kiss, Blake is leading me into the other room. I try to pull back, but he insists. I let out a heavy sigh and follow him.
When we enter the small dining room of our two-bedroom apartment, I instantly notice a medium-sized package sitting on the counter. My stomach drops when I try to think of a special occasion or anniversary I might’ve forgotten about.
“What is that?” I question as Blake drops my hand to pick up the package.
“Just open it, Campbell,” Blake says with a crooked smile. God, I love his smile.
My heart rate slightly speeds up as I undo Blake’s stellar wrapping job. He still hasn’t mastered the art of wrapping presents after all these years. I am just thankful there is no duct tape involved.
When I finally get the box open, there is a lone piece of wood nestled in some crumpled-up tissue paper. The crease between my eyebrows deepens as I try to figure out why Blake would give me a stick.
He instantly registers my state of confusion and says, “Pick it up and turn it over.”
I do as he says and carefully pick up the piece of wood, making sure to avoid any unwanted splinters. When I turn the piece over, my heart stops for a moment.
I didn’t recognize the wood at first, but now that it’s in my hands, I know exactly which stall the old piece came from. There, carved deep in the old oak, are our initials that Blake carved when we were thirteen.
I’m transported back to the moment when I saw these initials for the first time in a long-time last year. I was so lost, desperate to find somewhere I felt at home. Little did I know, everything I needed was right here in Honey Grove.
A small tear trickles down my cheek, and a warm feeling starts to spread across my entire body. I turn around to thank Blake, but my eyes sink to his six-foot frame kneeling on the kitchen floor.
“Blake,” I whisper in complete shock. My hand automatically goes to the ring that’s been hanging on a chain around my neck for the past year.
My skin begins to heat up, and my heart starts racing out of control. You always think you’re ready for the moment that will change your life, but then it hits you like a freight train, not stopping to let you catch up.
“Relax, Campbell. I was just tying my shoe,” he says with the biggest grin on his face.
“Not funny,” I yell, giving him a good shove when he stands up.
When Blake regains his footing, he takes me into his arms, and my body melts into his. “Did you want me to propose?”
The question stumps me. I would marry Blake tomorrow if I could, but our lives are just too chaotic right now. I am still getting my business off the ground, and he has three more years of school. We also just moved into our new place, and it will be a while before we have any extra money.
I’ve known I want to marry Blake Fisher since I was eight years old, but I am not in any hurry. I have the rest of my life to love him, and that’s all that matters right now.
“I want to get married, but I want to wait. Not that long,” I specify. “Just until we get our feet off the ground.”
Blake squeezes me tighter, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Whenever he holds me, the rest of the world melts away. I feel at home in his arms.
“If I knew you wanted me to propose, I would do it tomorrow, Campbell. Just let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll make it happen.”
I peel my head away from his chest and tip my head up. Blake leans in and gently presses his lips to mine. We stay like that for a moment.
The kiss isn’t desperate or needy. It’s just the warmth and comfort of knowing I’m right where I belong.
When Blake finally pulls back from the kiss, I remember the present sitting on the table. “What’s the special occasion?” I question, motioning towards the piece of wood on the table.
“Chris was having new stalls put in, and I hated the idea of not seeing those initials together. I thought we could put it on the mantel over there,” he suggests, pointing to the tiny fireplace in our new apartment.
“I love it,” I declare. “And I love you.”
“I love you too, Campbell.”
As Blake leans in for another kiss, I think about our future together. I think about a little while down the road when we plant our own roots in Honey Grove. Most importantly, I think about the feeling of not being homesick anymore.
“Well, let’s get your new office painted,” Blake says, pulling away from our embrace.
My body cries out at the loss of contact, so I grab one of his belt loops and tug him closer.
“I think it can wait just a little bit longer,” I say before leaning in for another kiss. This time, the kiss is a little more desperate, and I welcome the excitement pooling at the base of my stomach. I will never get tired of that feeling.
Home is where the heart is, and my heart belongs to Blake Fisher.