Epilogue
Six months later
There’s a saying in my little town just outside Mystic Meadows, Georgia: Bad luck begets more bad luck. And if you’re Rowe Wadley, you won’t just attract bad luck—you are bad luck.
Or at least, that’s what they used to say.
I glance out over Wadley Farms and my heart swells.
The piggycorns prance beneath the towering oaks, their tiny hooves tapping against the grass.
Wherever they step, soft golden light pulses in rhythmic waves, bathing the yard in a dreamlike glow.
The air is rich with the scent of honeysuckles and fresh earth, and for the first time in my life, I feel like luck is finally mine.
“You ready, honey?”
I turn at the sound of Mom’s voice. She stands in the doorway, elegant in a pale-pink dress with a matching jacket, a look of warmth and pride in her eyes.
I press a hand to my waist, smoothing the soft ivory fabric of my dress, nerves and excitement tangling in my chest. “How do I look?”
Mom’s lips tremble just a little as she blinks fast, like she’s holding back happy tears. “Like a beautiful bride.”
A lump rises in my throat, but before I can respond, Bill steps up beside me, offering his arm. “Your dad would be proud,” he murmurs, his voice gruff with emotion.
I nod, swallowing hard, and let him lead me outside.
The farm is transformed. Twinkling fairy lights hang from every branch, but it’s the piggycorns who bring them to life, their magic sending a soft shimmer through each glowing bulb.
Stella is among them—my Stella, returned to me after I bought the farm from the bank.
Sally Ray and Luke practically tripped over themselves to take my money and run, but I didn’t care.
Stella was mine again, and she was home.
The wooden gazebo ahead is wrapped in white roses, the scent mingling with the crisp night air. And standing at the center, waiting for me, is Pane.
My heartbeat stutters.
He’s never looked more broodingly handsome, his suit crisp, his dark hair just messy enough to remind me of all the times I’ve run my fingers through it. But it’s his smile that undoes me—the slow, knowing one that says, I see you. I choose you. I love you.
My cheeks burn as I realize all our friends are here. The whole town turned out, along with Pane’s family. His father, his brother, his sister.
Not Sylvia, though. The rift between them is still too deep, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to come.
But she made one concession—Natalie is attending a prep school only an hour away now, which means we see her on weekends.
She’s an incredible kid. And somehow she has an unspoken bond with the piggycorns.
After all, they do let her crowd-surf on top of them.
Pane’s brother, Stone, left the Maddox Group, too. He and Pane are now business partners, determined to build something all their own. And they’re already off to an incredible start: Their resort, built right here on the magical land of Mystic Meadows, opens next year.
Turns out, when you’ve got an enchanted landscape, piggycorn yoga, and a spa infused with actual magic, people will flock to book a session.
Bill releases my arm as I step up to Pane, and Pane bends down, voice husky as he murmurs, “You look beautiful, Sunbeam. And you smell so good.”
I giggle, my heart fluttering. I’m wearing the perfume he had created just for me. “You like it? I might know someone who can have a one-of-a-kind scent made just for you.”
His eyes narrow playfully. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You’ll have to reveal your secret,” he whispers, but before I can reply, Ron clears his throat from where he stands, officiating.
We turn, but all I can think is that I’m marrying Pane Maddox. The love of my life. My partner. My home.
The ceremony passes in a blur of laughter, vows, and the steady warmth of Pane’s hands in mine. Then, suddenly, we’re married.
The celebration explodes around us—music, dancing, piggycorns twirling between the guests. Pane and I spin together beneath the strings of glowing lights, lost in each other.
By the time the night grows late and my feet ache from dancing, Pane pulls me close, his arm tight around my waist. He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “Watch,” he murmurs.
I tilt my head up just as fireworks burst above us, painting the sky in ribbons of gold, pink, and violet. The piggycorns respond with joy, prancing around the crowd with their horns lifted, their soft glow shimmering like stardust.
I sink into Pane’s arms, my back against his chest, his warmth surrounding me. He drops his lips to my ear, voice low and sure. “I love you, Mrs. Maddox.”
A shiver of happiness runs through me. “I love you, too.”
For a moment, I let myself feel it—all of it. The wedding, the magic, the piggycorns.
Life could literally get no better than this.
Or so I think.
A bush near my feet rustles. My nose wrinkles. “What’s that?”
Pane presses a quick kiss to my temple before bending down to part the leaves. He stills. And then . . . he laughs.
“You’re never going to believe this.”
I crouch beside him, peering past the waxy branches. My breath catches.
A tiny, delicate lamb stands in the shadows, its wool soft and curled like fresh clouds. It takes a timid step forward, blinking up at me with impossibly big eyes.
And then, the light catches it.
A slender, golden horn, barely longer than my pinkie finger, protrudes from its forehead.
I gasp. “Is that—”
“A lambicorn,” Pane confirms, scooping the tiny creature into his arms with a grin that makes my heart stumble.
I press a hand to my chest as he lifts the baby toward me. Carefully, I stroke its soft coat, wonder blooming in my chest. “Welcome to the family, little lambi.”
Pane shifts closer, wrapping his arms around both of us, his lips brushing my forehead before his fingers skim over the lambicorn’s tiny horn.
“Yes, little one,” he murmurs, voice thick with something deep and sure. “Welcome.”