Epilogue
EPILOGUE
SPRING - DERRICK
I kiss my wife beneath the gazebo I built for her, in the shadow of the house I’m constructing for us, too.
Today, I finally get to call Izzy my wife.
I let her go to a chorus of cheers and whistles.
A year ago, to the day, I walked into my house to find her crashing there. She’s never left, and I certainly don’t plan on letting her go.
Our romance happened quickly, but when it’s right, what’s the point in waiting?
I knew early on, long before I wanted to admit it to myself, that this is exactly where we would end up.
The lake glimmers behind us, the setting sun glinting off the surface.
Izzy, as if she’s thinking the same thing I am, kicks off her heels and takes off toward it.
I follow, grinning at the collective gasp behind us. I catch up quickly and scoop her into my arms. The skirt of her dress is loose and flowy, allowing her to put her legs around my waist.
“Do you care if your dress gets wet?”
Arms looped around my neck, she shakes her head. “It’s just a dress.”
The water is only a couple of feet deep around the dock, but when I launch myself into it, I go under. I hold her up as best as I can, knowing she’d probably want to keep her hair dry and her makeup fresh, and when I emerge, I take her in. Her green eyes, her wide smile, the dress flowing behind her with the soft current.
She wraps her arms around my neck again. “Do they all think we’re crazy?”
“Probably. But it doesn’t matter.”
With her pale pink nails, she scratches my scalp in a way that sends shivers down my spine. “Why is that?”
“Because”—I smile, memorizing every detail of this day, the way the sun shines on the diamonds embedded in her wedding band, the happiness in her eyes, the exact pattern of the lace on her dress—“nothing can take away from how happy I am now that you’re my wife.”
She bites her lip, fighting a smile, but the effort is futile. “You’re my husband.”
We stay in the water for a moment, soaking it all in, just the two of us, while our guests move to the reception tent .
When everyone is gone, we walk out of the water hand in hand.
“What next?” I ask her, spinning her into my chest.
“Whatever it is,” she says, peering up at me, “we’ll figure it out together.”
“Until then?”
“Yeah.” She stands on her tiptoes in the grass, arms winding around my shoulders. “Until then.”