Epilogue
. . .
Rosalie
One year later
Dear Santa,
It’s been a year since I last wrote to you, and so much has changed since then.
As it turns out, I should believe in Christmas miracles. Well, if not miracles, then Christmas magic at the very least.
Somehow, even though you don’t exist, you still managed to deliver my Christmas wish right to my doorstep (and by doorstep, I mean next door).
And he’s everything and more.
He’s the man of my dreams, just like I asked for.
So this year?
I’m going to keep this letter short and sweet. There’s only one thing on my Christmas list.
Wells.
Love,
Rosalie Sullivan
“I can’t believe we’re spending our second Christmas together,” I say as Wells closes his truck door behind me. He looks down at the commotion near our feet and chuckles.
Penny’s kicked off a snow boot, and Frankie is currently running circles around us like he’s about to try out for the Olympics.
Clearly, he’s excited to be visiting the cabin and his cousins this year.
A drastic change from his demeanor during the ride here.
Grams knitted both him and Penny brand-new matching sweaters for Christmas. Bright red with little bells that jingle each time they walk.
Which, of course, Frankie loathes. He kept giving us both death stares every time we hit a bump in the truck and the bells jingled. Truly, I barely held it together. His attitude never ceases to amaze me.
Not sure how a dog of his size has the ability to give so much sass, but here we are.
Wells crouches down and helps situate the pink snow boot on Penny’s foot, giving her a sweet scratch behind her ears. “There ya go, my Penny girl. All better now.”
Per usual, my heart flutters, and my ovaries scream.
Every single time I witness him being the most adorable, thoughtful, incredible dog dad, it makes me think crazy, outrageous thoughts about the man.
Like, you know… what he’ll look like as a dad one day.
Of our non-weenie babies, that is.
I realize that I’m putting the cart way before the horse because we’ve only been together for a year, but it’s impossible not to imagine forever with this man.
Just when I think that I couldn’t possibly fall more in love with him, he does something that makes me fall all over again, even harder than before.
I’m wholly convinced that he’s perfect. That he has absolutely zero flaws.
Okay, fine, maybe a couple. He has atrocious taste in coffee. And he’s like a human heater at night, but I honestly don’t mind that too much because his farmhouse gets ungodly chilly in the winter.
Our house, I mean.
I’ve officially been moved in for a month now, and I got to decorate it for the first time for the holidays. Wells barely even grumbled, even when I had him move said decorations three times because the feng was not shui-ing.
I miss my apartment above the store sometimes. Mostly all of the memories that I had there over the years, but there’s no doubt in my mind that being with Wells is exactly where I’m meant to be.
“You ready, Sugar?” he says, placing a hand at the small of my back and giving me a smile.
I nod. “Yes. I’m so excited to see everyone again.”
When he takes my hand, twining our fingers together, and starts guiding me toward our cabin instead of his parents’, where we’re expected for dinner soon, I look up at him, my brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, why are w—”
“Just need to stop by the cabin for a second. C’mon,” he says.
Maybe he just wants to get the fire started before going to his parents’.
I have lots of ideas for the rug that’s in front of that fire.
Grinning, I follow him through the open door and wait as he closes it behind us and turns to face me.
My gaze flits to the… already lit fire that’s crackling in the fireplace.
I’m running out of reasons why he’d bring us here, knowing that we’re supposed to be at his parents’.
“I got you something,” Wells says, tossing me my favorite smirk.
“Oh?” I arch a brow. “That’s why you brought me here?”
He simply shrugs, and that smirk widens into a full-blown smile that lights up his handsome face and makes my heart leap, swelling in my chest.
That smile has the same effect on me as it did in the beginning, maybe even more now that I know the man behind it.
“Wells Jude McCoy, you better not have brought me in h—”
“Sugar.” Cutting me off, he laughs, then steps closer, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. “Trust me when I say I’d love to start this weekend right here, buried between your thighs and worshiping every inch of you… but that is not why I brought you in here.”
Even though I told him it shouldn’t be the reason, I poke my lips out in a pout that has him chuckling. “Later. I promise. For now…”
He trails off, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a plain white envelope, holding it up between us.
My heart stutters.
“Is it a letter?”
Wells shrugs. “Could be. Open it, Rosalie.”
As I take it from him, he steps back, giving me space to tear it open and unfold the paper. I can feel his eyes on me as I read the first line.
Dear Santa,
I can’t believe I’m writing a letter to you right now, but I think it goes to show that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Rosalie Sullivan.
Listen, big guy, I’m fuc—freaking crazy about her. I love this woman more than I ever thought possible to love another person.
Every single day that I wake up with her in my arms, I ask the universe how the hell I got lucky enough to be the one that gets to love her.
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this?
Well, that’s because I owe it all to you. If it wasn’t for the letter that she wrote to you, unknowingly asking for me, then I wonder if things would have happened the way that they did. I like to think that what Rosalie and I have is something bigger than us. Fate.
That no matter what, we would’ve ended up exactly where we are even if it was by a different path. But who really knows when it comes to things like this?
It’s funny that I never believed much in fate until I came to Mistletoe Falls, until I met her.
So in part, I wanted to say thanks.
And I also wanted to talk about what I want for Christmas this year.
Everyone has asked that same question a hundred times in the last few months. What do you want for Christmas, Wells?
I had no clue. It was hard as hell to come up with something tangible when I honestly feel like I have it all.
I’ve got my dream girl.
The girl that I didn’t even realize I was looking for her until she stomped into my bar and took my heart hostage.
All fire and sass, but melted like sugar for me.
She’s the most patient woman I’ve ever met. She helps anyone and everyone without ever batting an eye. Never complains. Puts everyone before herself. Including me, Frankie, and Penny.
She’s strong, and resilient, and ambitious.
It feels a bit selfish to ask for anything when I have it all. My girl, my pups, my family. A business that’s thriving that I run alongside my best friend. A town that welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like a resident from the first moment I stepped foot in it.
And most importantly, a home.
Not just one with four walls and a roof.
My home is wherever Rosalie is.
She’s the closest thing to perfect that this world has ever seen, and somehow, someway, I ended up being the man she chose to love.
That brings me back to finding something to ask for.
All I want for Christmas… is for Rosalie Sullivan to be mine, forever.
Wells McCoy
I can hardly see through the tears in my eyes as I lower the letter and find Wells on one knee in front of me, a bright red ring box clutched in his hand.
Oh my God.
“Wells…” I start, my voice breaking. I reach up, covering my mouth with shaking fingers to stop the sob that’s threatening to burst free.
He reaches for my hand and offers me a smile that appears almost boyish. “Rosalie.”
My heart feels like it’s going to escape out of my chest with how wildly it’s beating.
“You are the love of my life and the only woman that I want to spend the rest of it with. The only woman who I want to share an old farmhouse with, fill it with babies that I hope will look just like you. I love you, Rosalie. So much. I want you to be my wife, to have the privilege of loving you forever. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Slowly, he opens the velvet box, revealing the most beautiful, breathtaking ring that I’ve ever seen inside.
It’s an oval-cut solitaire with a gold band.
Simple, but timeless. It’s… God, it’s perfect.
If I ever had to choose for myself, it’s exactly the type of ring I would’ve chosen.
When Wells takes it out of the box and holds it up between us, it sparkles in the light of the fire, all the facets shining brightly.
I can’t even believe this is happening. It feels like a dream.
Half a sob and a laugh pours out of me as I nod, over and over. “Yes. God, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
A wide smile splits his face as he pushes the ring onto my finger carefully and then stands and hauls me to him, spinning me in a circle that leaves us both breathless with laughter and tears.
“I love you so fucking much, Rosalie,” he breathes into the crook of my neck, his arms wrapped tightly around my back, holding me to him.
I pull back to look at him, framing his strong jaw with my hands. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we’re getting married! Wait until I show Grams and Ken!”
He chuckles. “Who do you think helped me pick out your ring?”
My heart squeezes as he continues. “I asked your Gramps for permission to marry you, Sugar. I might not be much of a traditional guy, at least I wasn’t until I met you, but it meant a lot to me to have his blessing.” Another tear slips down my cheek, a hundred more threatening to spill.
This is exactly what I meant when I said each time I thought I couldn’t fall more in love with him… I do.
I never thought that love could be this way. I wasn’t even sure if the kind of love that my grandparents have even truly existed. That love could take my breath away the way it does in fairy tales. That perfect Prince Charming men do exist.
Until Wells.
Now I know better.
And honestly?
It’s even better than I ever could have imagined.
“Your Grams is already picking out dresses from wedding magazines with the ladies at Pokeno.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “God, of course she is.”
He grins. “I don’t care what we wear or where it happens. I just want to marry you, Rosalie.”
“Hmm… you know, I was thinking pink? Like everything? Pepto-esque,” I tease. “You know, like when we went to that god-awful party last year?”
His answer is to bury his face in my neck and nip at my skin, fingers pressing into my side until I’m collapsing with giggles.
God, I love this man.
“If you want to try and fight Frankie on wearing a pink tuxedo? Go for it, Sugar,” he finally says, turning our attention to the pups, who are lying in front of the fire, looking at us both like we’ve lost our minds.
“Yeah, on second thought, maybe we should just elope,” I say.
Truthfully, I’d marry Wells tomorrow if he wanted to. I don’t need to wait and plan something big or elaborate when everything I want is right here.
Turns out… fake holi-dating isn’t just for the Hallmark movies.
It’s also for hot bar owners in small towns who fall in love with the candy maker next door.
And I’m never, ever giving him up.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of The Mistletoe Bet now.