Strictly Pretend (The Salinger Brothers #6)

Epilogue

brOOKS

“You ready for this?” Linc asks me, straightening my tie. He’s deliriously happy because this is the first time he’s gotten to be the best man to one of our brothers. Over the last few months I’ve had to endure him making mood boards for every occasion. His board for the bachelor party had a James Bond theme, tuxedos and cocktails in the South of France, but after I intervened it ended up being the six of us brothers shooting the breeze for one solitary night at our cabins.

His mood board for the wedding had a navy blue theme, which Emma liked but I had to veto, because there was no way I was letting any of my brothers choose the colors for my wedding.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, because I’m so damn ready it’s not funny. It’s been two months since Emma accepted my second proposal. She says it’s the first and only proposal but I maintain it was the second because I was already mostly in love with her by the time we got to Montana. I just didn’t realize it yet.

We’re on a little beach on an island right off the Atlantic coast. This has been Linc’s crowning glory. His friend owns this private island complete with a secluded beach and was all too happy to lend the location to us for the weekend. There’s just us, our family, and a few friends.

Exactly how we want it.

The sun is going down, casting a candy pink glow over the little spit of water – technically the Atlantic Ocean – that separates us from the mainland. There’s a string quartet on the stage playing a Taylor Swift song I’ve forgotten the name of, though Linc is humming away because he’s the world’s biggest Swiftie.

I turn to look at the chairs laid out on the risers that we had erected to cover the sand. They’re full of our family and friends, but we still managed to keep the numbers low. My brothers and their families are here, along with my dad and moms and a few old friends we both invited, including Cassie and Mia and their husbands. Plus our guest of honor, Tex, who’s proudly wearing his mom’s wedding ring around his neck again.

Linc clears his throat and I see Emma walking down the path that leads to the beach, her hand tucked into her Granddad’s arm. The ocean breeze lifts her hair as they make their way to the water’s edge to join us.

The string quartet seamlessly switches over to a beautiful version of Pachelbel’s Cannon. My breath catches as the woman I love walks closer. She’s wearing a simple lace dress, one I know Rita spent weeks making, using Emma’s grandmother’s dress as the base. It’s high on the neck and long on the sleeves and emphasizes every single curve on her body.

Her red hair is loose, tumbling over her shoulders. She looks like a character from a Thomas Hardy book, all rural and pretty and more than a little bit wild.

And then our eyes meet. Her lips curl into a smile and I’m grinning back.

She’s about to be even more mine. And I’m here for that.

As they walk down the aisle, Emma and her granddad are all smiles. They’re nodding at friends and family, and then one of my nieces calls out to Emma that she looks like a princess and everybody laughs.

Like me, my nieces and nephews are in love with this woman. She’s a natural with kids. We’ve talked a lot about whether we want children of our own – either by adopting or with medical intervention – but right now we’re in agreement that we’re good. We love spending time with my family. And whenever we do we’re surrounded by kids.

But we like it being just the two of us, too. Or three – because when we’re not alone or with my family, we’re with her granddad and his friends, listening to them shoot the breeze. They’re fun and they’re irreverent and most of all they’re goddamn card sharks who are constantly trying to swindle me.

And I love every single one of them.

“Here she is,” Granddad says, his voice sounding like he’s a delivery man. “All yours.” He holds her hand out and I take it.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “I’m all hers.”

“You’re both each others,” he tells us. “That’s how it works. Now shut up, I have a reading to do.”

This was the one thing Emma insisted on. That her granddad did a reading before we get married. I take her hand, my eyes never leaving her face as I hear the shuffle of her granddad’s feet as he walks to the podium.

“This is Love Poem Number Three ,” he says into the microphone. “By Sally Robbins.” He clears his throat and slides his reading glasses on.

Two souls, like wandering streams,

meeting in a boundless sea ? —

gentle tides, weaving through time,

now flowing together as one.

Love, pure in its essence,

a dance of joy and grace,

where every touch,

every whisper,

brings us closer still.

We are stardust from distant skies,

designed for one another

in the pauses between breaths,

in the quiet that speaks forever.

Here,

in this moment,

we are complete ? —

two hearts,

one song,

forever in tune

He ends the words, and looks at us both. “She was a good woman,” he says, his voice cracking. Next to me, I hear Emma’s breath turn ragged. “She would have loved you, Brooks. She would have loved you because you make our girl smile. You make her laugh. You know her worth.”

He lifts a brow and I nod, because I do.

“Be good to each other. Don’t let the sun go down on an argument. Don’t let a day go by without telling each other how much you love them. And most of all, cherish every moment together. They go way too fast.”

EMMA

As Granddad finishes speaking and closes up the book, Brooks’ eyes catch mine. There’s so much emotion there, it hits me in the center of my chest. I love this man so much. I’m so lucky to have him.

For a moment the whole beach is silent, save for the lapping of the waves against the shore, but then a little voice pipes up.

“Is it time for cake yet?”

Brooks eyes catch mine and we both start to laugh. He turns to look at his nephew, Oliver, who’s standing on Myles’ lap. Like all his boy cousins, Oliver is dressed up for the ceremony, wearing a pair of the tiniest dress pants I’ve ever seen, along with a shirt, vest, and a perfectly knotted tie.

The Salinger family breed beautiful children. I barely go a minute when I’m with them without one of them hugging me or kissing me or asking me for help. It’s the best of all worlds. I get to love them all day and their parents get to deal with the tantrums at night.

“Not yet, buddy,” Brooks tells him. “But we’re gonna do this thing real quick and then the first slice is yours.” Then he blinks and looks at me. “Sorry, that was the most unromantic thing I’ve probably ever said. At my wedding, too.”

I grin at him. “It wasn’t unromantic. I want to get this done real quick, too,” I tell him, rolling onto my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his. “Because I have plans for you later.”

The officiant – who is thankfully not Mark – clears his throat. “Ah, we have a few words we need to say first,” he says. “May I?”

“You may,” Brooks intones, squeezing my hand, and I’m starting to think this is the best wedding I’ve ever been to. Not only because it’s exactly how I wanted it. Casual, full of love, full of kids and laughter.

But because I’m standing next to the only man in the world I’ve ever wanted to marry.

First we repeat his words. Then he asks us to read our vows. We both agreed to write our own, and I watch as Brooks unfolds the piece of paper he’s taken out from his pocket.

“Emma Robbins,” he says, his lips curling as his eyes catch mine. I have no idea what he’s about to say because he refused to let me look at his document. I even tried to sneak a peek at his laptop, but he password protected the file. “From the moment I saw you walk barefoot into my life, howling at the moon and stealing the whiskey bottle from my hand, I knew you were the one for me.”

There’s a ripple of laughter from the guests.

I lift a brow at him.

“It’s not just because you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Or the funniest, or the most well read.” His eyes are soft as they look at me. “Although you are. But it’s because you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, you’re vulnerable, you’re caring, and you’re protective. You’re the first person I want to see after I’ve had a good day, or a bad day, or a so-so day.” His smile is lopsided. “And you’re the last person I want to see before my eyes close at night. I’m the luckiest man in the world to get to be your husband. And baby, I’m not gonna mess this up.”

His brothers let out a whoop and I’m grinning right along with them.

“Well, all right,” the officiant says. “Now Emma will read her vows.”

I don’t take out a piece of paper. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to decide what to say while staring at a blank sheet of paper. But now I’m looking at him and my mind is suddenly so full of words I don’t know where to start.

“Brooks,” I say, taking his hands in mine. “Thank you for letting me love you. And for showing me how to accept your love back in return. Thank you for being there to share in my smiles, to wipe up my tears. On the good days and the bad days and the so-so days. Which are still the best days I’ve ever had.”

I’m beaming at him, even though my eyes are full of tears. “From the moment I saw you, sitting on the grass alone, avoiding weddings because we’re both not really fans…” I trail off as there’s more laughter.

He’s smiling back at me, and I feel it to the tips of my toes. “Somewhere in my heart I knew my world had changed forever. And now I’m the biggest fan of weddings, or at least this one. Because this wedding means I get to be your wife for the rest of my life. And you get to be my husband.”

“Damn right.”

I sniff, because my tears will start to fall soon, I can feel them. “I promise to always be here for you. To always listen without judgment. To support you the way you support me. But most of all, I promise to love you. Which isn’t much of a vow at all. Because you’re so easy to love,” I tell him, my voice finally breaking. “And I’m never going to stop.”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks now. He reaches out and wipes them away with his thumbs, then leans down to press his mouth against mine.

“Ah, we’re not quite… ah damn it.” The officiant lets out a sigh and quickly tells us, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

When we part, breathless, we’re laughing and crying but most of all we’re married.

“You can slide the rings on,” the officiant says.

Brooks winks at me as he does just that.

“And you can kiss the bride. Not that you need my permission, obviously.”

My chest starts to shake with laughter.

“Thanks for that, man.” Brooks nods. “I appreciate it.” Then he looks at me. “Ready to walk back down the aisle and start our lives together?”

“Yeah,” I say nodding. “I’m ready.”

So we do, our families and friends surrounding us and laughing as we all walk down the aisle together, taking our shoes off as we hit the sand then walk into the waves to let the cool water wash over our toes.

Two of our nephews run into the water fully clothed, much to their parents’ horror. I watch Ava run in after one of them, while Holden runs in after the other, hauling him out.

Brooks laughs softly, taking my hand in his. “You okay?”

I turn to look at him. “More than okay. This was the wedding I never knew I needed.”

He grins. “You’re the wife I never knew I needed.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I tell him.

“You should, because it is. You renewed my faith in relationships, in people, in… life.” He brushes the hair from my face, his expression suddenly serious. “By the way, you want to get out of here?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” He nods his head at the dock. “There’s a boat over there. It’s got a blanket and a bottle of whiskey in it. We can go anywhere we want. Or we can stay here if you prefer. Spend time with our family.”

“Are you asking me if I’d like to spend my wedding night howling at the moon with you?” I say, my eyes crinkling. Because this man… dear God, I love him so much. I love that he knows I hate the aftermath of a wedding, even though I desperately wanted to be married to him.

“Yes, I am,” he says. “I’m asking exactly that.”

I cup his cheeks with my hands, a smile pulling at my lips as I stare at my everything.

“In that case, Brooks Salinger, I do.”

Thank you for reading!