Epilogue
Anson
Three Months Later
T he RV looks fantastic in the backyard, as if it was always meant to be there. I stand beside Sebastian and Parker, watching as we carefully maneuver it into place. Wade completed the kitchen renovations in the house last month, and Tabby officially moved in three weeks ago. However, we had to wait for the town’s approval to dig a new septic tank and add an RV hookup to bring the Shasta home. Tabby didn’t want to just store it in a facility; she envisioned turning it into a she-shed—a peaceful place where she could paint or write.
And I agreed. It should be here with us.
“Keep it straight,” Sebastian calls, one hand on the truck’s tailgate while the other waves instructions at Parker, who’s behind the wheel.
“Yeah, yeah,” Parker grumbles, though there’s a grin on his face. “If you don’t like my backing-in skills, you’re welcome to do it yourself.”
“Just don’t dent the damn thing,” I add, crossing my arms.
Sebastian snorts. “It’s old as dirt. Dents add character.”
“Hey!” Tabby calls from the back porch, hands on her hips. “I heard that, Sebastian.”
I turn toward her and can’t help but smile. She’s got a glass of iced tea in one hand, her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing one of my old T-shirts, tied at her waist over a pair of cutoff shorts. She looks at home here, the same way she always looked at home in that RV. Only now, she has it all—the house, the yard, and a place that’s truly hers. Ours.
Parker finally gets the Shasta into place, cutting the engine with a satisfied sigh. “Perfect.”
Sebastian claps me on the shoulder. “You sure about this? Letting her keep that thing is a gamble. She might end up rolling out on you one day,” he teases.
I glance over at Tabby, who’s now making her way toward us, barefoot in the grass. The idea of her leaving—of her needing to—feels like a different life, one that doesn’t exist anymore.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I say simply.
She reaches us just as Parker jumps out of the truck, stretching. “If you’re done insulting my home,” she teases, nudging Sebastian, “someone needs to help me level it out.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grins, tossing his arm around her shoulders before she shrugs him off.
An hour later, the RV is settled. The sun is dipping lower, streaking the sky in orange and pink, and the four of us sit on the back porch, drinking beer, watching the water. It feels right. Like everything’s finally in place.
Eventually, Sebastian and Parker head out, leaving just me and Tabby under the soft glow of string lights draped between the trees. I lead her toward the wooden swing I set up near the RV, the one with the best view of the ocean.
She sighs as she sinks into it, pulling her legs up under her. “I think I could sit here forever, chasing sunsets with you.”
I sit beside her, stretching an arm across the back of the swing. “That’s the idea.”
She smiles, resting her head against my shoulder. For a while, we just sit there, listening to the waves, letting the night settle in.
Then, my heart kicks up. It’s time.
I’ve been carrying the ring with me since the day Mom delivered it to me. “You’ll know when the time is right, son.”
I shift, reaching into my pocket, my fingers curling around the small velvet box. My pulse hammers as I turn to her, my mouth suddenly dry.
Tabby notices immediately. “What?” she asks, lifting her head, her gaze searching mine.
I swallow and take a steadying breath. Then, I slide off the swing, onto one knee in the cool grass.
Tabby gasps, her eyes going wide. “Anson …”
I open the box. The ring catches the last of the sunset light, the five-carat diamond gleaming in the center, the small, deep red rubies surrounding it in an intricate setting.
She claps a hand over her mouth.
“I know you pawned this ring and expected to never see it again,” I say, voice steady but thick with emotion. “But I couldn’t let it go. I knew how much it meant to you, how much your grandmother meant to you. So, I kept it. And I had it remade.”
Tears well in her eyes, glistening in the fading light. “Anson …”
“The rubies,” I continue, my voice softer now, “they’re still hers. I had the center stone cut into four smaller ones and set around the diamond. So, she’s still here, a part of this. I like to think it’s her way of giving us her blessing.”
She makes a small, choked sound, pressing her fingers against her lips.
I take a breath, my chest tightening. “Tabitha Harmony, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I never want to spend a day without you. So, if you’ll have me”—I smile, my heart in my throat—“will you marry me?”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods frantically, laughing through the sobs. “Yes,” she breathes. “Yes. Of course, yes.”
Relief, love—everything crashes over me all at once as I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s perfect. She’s perfect.
She throws herself at me, knocking me backward onto the grass, her arms around my neck, her lips on mine. The swing creaks above us, the water whispers against the shore, and the stars blink to life overhead.
And for the first time in my life, I know—really know—what a blessing it is to love and be loved.