Epilogue
The Next Summer
ELLIE
IREMEMBERED THE FIRST time I walked across Maple Street vividly.
I remembered my sweaty palms and how I checked my hair in the mirror just inside our front door before stepping onto the porch.
I remembered the blast of humidity and the symphony of bugs that narrated a Minnesota summer.
I remembered staring at the London home, wondering if a friend might live there.
I never expected to find five of them.
Or pets that felt like my own.
I never expected to meet the only father figure I’d ever have.
Or a second mother, who stood at my side now.
And I certainly didn’t expect to meet my future husband.
I lingered in the entryway of my mom’s house, similar to that day I met Sully.
It had been cleared of boxes, and I could see the mirror on the wall again.
I stared at my reflection, at the smile I struggled to contain, the tint of blush on my cheeks and the immaculate shimmer on my eyelids, highlighting the spark in my brown eyes, the same color as the kitchen walls I’d cooked breakfast in this morning.
I watched my fingers trail over the intricate beading at my neckline, the detailing on a dress that felt otherworldly—something that belonged on a screen or in the pages of a book.
“You are stunning, my girl,” Anne’s soft voice said as she rearranged my veil, being fussy with it.
“Gorgeous,” my mom agreed, smiling at me over my shoulder.
I grinned back. “Are we ready?”
Both women chuckled. “I think I can speak for Annie, too, when I say that we’ve been ready, Ellie. You made us old ladies wait fourteen years for this day.”
“Fourteen years,” I breathed, a little awed. Fourteen years of loving Sullivan Sawyer London, and today, I was going to marry him. “I’ve been ready, too.”
“We know.” Anne checked—for the third time—that my veil was secure and then took a step back.
“Love you both,” I said, trying to bat away the tears before they could ruin my makeup. There would be time for that later.
Luckily, the door creaked open before anyone could get too emotional, and Cameron, who had been taking his usher duties very seriously today, poked his head in.
His warm gaze found me, and a grin lit up his face.
Music filtered through the air, a movie score I couldn’t place at the moment, my head too up in the clouds.
“It’s time,” he said.
My breath seemed to vanish from my lungs. “Yeah?”
He nodded, opening the door a little wider in an invitation. “I think if you don’t walk down that aisle soon, he’s going to run up it instead.”
Laughter bubbled up my throat, and Cameron’s deep brown eyes twinkled before he extended a hand. “I’ll help you down the steps.”
“Thank you,” I said. And then the door swung fully open, and I was outside.
Heat warmed my skin, and cicadas serenaded my soul.
The music changed, and I let Cameron guide me carefully down the front steps until I stood in front of them.
My mom and Anne flanked my sides after Cameron helped them, too, but I honestly wasn’t paying much attention as they looped their arms in both of mine. I was already looking ahead.
The street had been blockaded on either side of our houses, courtesy of a permit from the city.
And today, instead of cars, it was filled with chairs.
Rows on either side of a manufactured flower-lined aisle and strings of lights above that would later illuminate a dance floor for guests after they ate in the huge tent in the Londons’ backyard. Our backyard.
Sully had spent the last several months constructing an arch, and though it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it situated in front of the large white house I called home, draped with roses and vines, it was the first time I’d seen him standing beneath it, wearing a tux and looking at me like he’d never known happiness before this moment.
There was magic in his cerulean gaze.
He mouthed my name before covering his hand over his jaw as though unable to believe this wasn’t fantasy, and maybe it was.
Maybe it was, and maybe saving my makeup was hopeless.
My smile was watery, my vision blurry, but I couldn’t not move.
I needed to make it to him, needed to feel his hands in mine, needed to marry him.
I walked the path between our two houses for the millionth time, not needing to watch my feet despite the lace tangling between my ankles.
I knew every crack, every dip, and every step.
And when I finally made it to Sully, who stood flanked by his siblings at the end of the aisle, I smiled at him while tracking the tears running down his face.
“I love you,” I mouthed, and he nodded, and then shook his head, and then nodded again, wiping at his cheeks.
And once he found his voice, he looked at Cooper and said, “Can we please, for the love of God, skip to the part where I can kiss her and call her my wife?”
Everyone laughed, and Sully’s hands found mine, and somehow, he managed to wait through the short ceremony until his lips found mine.
And I was finally Eleanor London.
THE END