EPILOGUE
I adjust the centerpiece for the sixth time, my fingertips tingling as they brush against the reclaimed wood box. Ace built it perfectly—the edges smooth, the joints tight—and I stained it in that rich mahogany that makes the fresh blooms pop. The pink and white flowers remind me of our first road trip, when Ace kissed me at the greenhouse, the day we were picking up the flowers for Jax and Leesa’s wedding. My heart thuds against my ribs at the memory.
“Relax, sweetheart. The place is perfect.” Ace’s deep voice sends a warm shiver down my spine as he slides his arms around my waist from behind.