Epilogue
Camila
The sun dips low, painting the horizon in golds and pinks, and the air smells like warm dust and wild grass.
Here on the ranch, I feel centered, like we’re a million miles away from the stresses of the city.
I used to think I’d hate this kind of slow-paced life, but it suits me more than I ever expected.
So does my husband.
It’s only been one week since the divorce freak-out, but it’s been the best week of my life. Like a late honeymoon we finally got to take, only spending it at home with each other. Simple and romantic.
Hess comes striding out of the corral as if he walked straight off the cover of some cowboy magazine—boots scuffed just right, belt buckle gleaming, jeans hugging his hips, that hat tilted low enough to cast shadows across those blue eyes, and my favorite part: his light hair curling over his ears.
He gives me that grin that always threatens to undo me as he leads Daisy Duke by the reins, her pawing the ground, ready to go. “Your girl’s itching to stretch her legs.”
But instead of reaching for the reins, I glance past Daisy Duke to where Cactus Jack waits. “Actually, I was hoping we could ride together.”
Hess pauses mid-step, eyebrows kicking up beneath the brim of his hat. “Together? I thought you said you’d never ride in the same saddle as me.”
I let my lips curve slowly, the way I know makes him pay attention. “I was lying.”
For a second, he just stares at me, and then that smile of his tilts, carrying that edge of heat he saves just for me. He steps closer, lowering his voice as his hands grab my waist. “This might just be the best day of my life.”
I laugh, climbing up onto the fence rail so I’m nearly eye-level with him. “Not the day you married me? Not last week, when I came to the Waffle House and told you not to sign the divorce papers?”
He tips his hat back, eyes sparking as he leans in close, close enough for his breath to brush my cheek. “Those were miracles. This? This is pure fantasy.”
My head falls back with laughter, giving him the opportunity to kiss the soft spot under my jaw.
I swat his shoulder. “Hey, if you keep that up, the sun will go down before we ever get our ride in.”
“Okay, okay.” Hess releases me and swings up into Cactus Jack’s saddle like it’s second nature—because for him, it is. Every movement is smooth, controlled, and deliciously attractive.
Then he turns those steady hands toward me. “Your turn.”
Before I can protest, he hooks his arm around my waist and lifts me like I weigh nothing at all.
A little squeal slips out before I’m set firmly in front of him, nestled against the solid wall of his chest. His thighs bracket me, strong and steady, and his arms curve around to gather the reins, trapping me in a circle of warmth.
“See?” he murmurs, his lips so close to my ear that his breath tickles across my neck. “Riding double is where it’s at.”
I nestle back into him. “Yes, I see the benefits.”
My heart skips as the horse shifts beneath us, but Hess’s body presses closer against my back, anchoring me. I feel the hard lines of muscle through his shirt, every exhale brushing over me.
He chuckles low, the sound vibrating through my spine. “So what’s next?”
I tilt my head back just enough to catch his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Every movie ends with a ride off into the sunset.”
“Not us.” I lean into him as his arms tighten around me. “This is where our life starts.”
The kitchen smells like roasted peppers and onions, with the scent of cumin and garlic sizzling in hot oil.
Selena’s got her hair tied up in a messy bun, her apron already streaked with sauce, while Mamá hums along to the music blasting from the little speaker on the counter. An old '90s mix she always plays.
I’m wearing an apron too, though it looks ridiculous on me, and I’ve got no idea what I’m doing. My spoon clanks against the pan too hard, and the beans nearly slosh over the side. I step back like the food might bite me. “Okay, but no one warned me cooking was dangerous work.”
Selena twirls past me, bumping my hip with hers. “It’s black beans, Camila. Not dynamite.”
Our mom leans over my shoulder, her hand gently covering mine to guide the spoon. “Keep stirring. You don’t want to scald the bottom.”
I follow her motion, and the beans settle into a slow simmer instead of threatening to escape. “See?” she says softly. “Perfect.”
It hits me then, how strange and wonderful this is. Six weeks ago, Selena got married, and somehow that changed all of us. We’ve been spending more time together, cooking, shopping for household items, talking, and actually learning who we are to each other outside the roles we used to be stuck in.
I used to carry around my family like a scar that refused to heal.
They were something I distanced myself from, like the space would somehow prevent me from being like my mom and Selena.
But standing here, dancing clumsily in the kitchen to Salt-N-Pepa, hearing my mom laugh as she tries to teach me how to chop cilantro without nearly taking off a finger, I feel something inside me stitching back together.
I don’t want to spend the next twenty-six years looking backward, cataloging the mistakes and the hurts. We’re not perfect. But we’re trying. Forgiveness is strong and important and heals my fears more than anything in my life ever has.
Well, anything besides Hess.
The conference room is bright, all glass and polished wood, as I sit across from Landon and his father, Clyde Hamilton.
Never in a million years would I have thought I would be in a job interview with my brother-in-law to join his legal team, where I would draft and review real estate purchase agreements, leases, and address zoning issues, but life keeps sending me in new and unexpected directions, and it’s exciting.
My palms are smooth against the folder of references I brought, though I keep my smile easy and professional.
“So,” Clyde begins, leaning back in his chair, “I hear you were quite a star at Van and Wendtz Law.”
I let out a small laugh. “I was for a while, and then I lost my passion for those kinds of cases.”
“Divorce cases?” Clyde clarifies.
“Yes.”
“I can imagine that would be an emotionally taxing line of work.”
More than you know.
Landon grins as he flips a pen between his fingers. “Camila is quick,” he says to his father. “And a hard worker. Selena brags on her all the time.”
“I’ll take hard work over anything else,” Clyde replies then fixes his gaze on me.
“Tell me about yourself. Let’s see if you’re a good fit for this company.”
The question hangs in the air. For a moment, I think of all the ways I’ve answered it before: law school credentials, experience, case history. But none of that is what comes to my lips now.
“I’m sure you’ve heard from Landon, but I’m married to Hess.” I say the words confidently, as if being his wife is my greatest achievement. “That’s an important part of my life. I’ve learned that, while I’ll always work hard at my job, I also believe family and relationships need to come first.”
Even as I say it, I feel a flicker of surprise, an imposter syndrome I can’t quite shake.
I don’t even recognize myself in this answer.
The old me would have led with ambition, with late nights and wins notched like battle scars.
But this version—the one who sets her heart right beside her career…
she feels like someone I want to know better.
Someone I’m proud of being at the end of the day.
I meet Clyde’s gaze again, sitting straighter in my seat. “What that means is, I’m committed. When I take something on—whether it’s my marriage or your portfolio—I give it everything I’ve got.”
For a beat, the room is quiet. Then Clyde’s mouth curves in approval, slow but certain. “That’s the kind of loyalty we value in this company, and I think you’d be a great asset here.”
Landon’s eyes meet mine, and there’s something like respect there—maybe even admiration. I’ve come a long way from the girl who tried to break him apart from Selena.
I breathe a little deeper, a little easier.
I like this new me.
I like the woman who is working just as hard to make her marriage last as she does to build her career. And for the first time, I believe I can have both.
Sunday dinner at Bart and Anita Taylor’s house is nothing short of controlled chaos.
Hess’s mom insists on serving everything family-style, which means the table is crammed with bowls and platters of meat so heavy you’ve got to pass with two hands or risk disaster.
Everyone talks at once, and instead of making me feel overwhelmed, it makes me smile.
Anita fusses about who let the serving spoon fall into the potatoes, Bart argues the green beans need more salt, Ashley is topping off glasses of punch on the kid table behind us like she’s racing to finish before they spill, while Hess and his brothers passionately discuss yesterday’s ASU game.
I grew up with dinners in front of the television, where the only discussion was who Selena and I thought would get kicked off of Dancing With the Stars next. Here, everything is a messy, loud, tangle of voices, and I love it.
I’m reaching for the cornbread when Rhett suddenly leans forward, fork raised like he’s purposely calling me out.
“So, Camila,” he says, loud enough to silence at least half the table, “what cinched the deal? What made you actually want to stay married to my brother? ‘Cause we all know it sure as heck wasn’t that lame kiss he gave you at the cabin.”
Dane wipes his lips with his napkin. “I think it was whatever Hess did to break the bedframe.”
Ashley bursts out laughing, while Anita gasps.
“I thought the kids broke the frame from jumping on the bed,” Bart says, confused.
“I don’t think jumping is the word I’d use.” Noah winks at Hess.
“This is inappropriate talk for Sunday dinner, especially in front of the K-I-D-S,” Anita lowers her voice as she spells out the word.