Epilogue
SANDRA
SIX MONTHS LATER
Spring sunshine streams through the windows of our cabin, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floors we refinished together during the winter months.
Six months since Diesel officially moved in, since we decided to build a life together in Grandpa Joe's place, and the cabin has truly become ours—a perfect blend of his practical craftsmanship and my cozier touches.
I stand at the kitchen island, going through my mental checklist for today's gathering.
Food prepped, drinks chilling, decorations hung.
Our first proper housewarming, though we've been living here for months now.
The timing feels right—renovations finally complete, garden coming into bloom, and most importantly, the big news we're planning to share with our friends.
"Need any help?" Diesel's voice pulls me from my thoughts as he steps around the kitchen island, freshly showered after spending the morning at the garage. His hair is still damp, and he smells like soap and that indefinable scent that's uniquely him.
"Just your opinion." I gesture to the array of appetizers I've prepared. "Too much?"
He wraps his arms around me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder as he surveys the spread. "For Sage, Jabari, Marcus, and the others? Not even close. You know how they eat."
I laugh, leaning back against his solid warmth. "Fair point. Especially Roman."
"He works it off," Diesel defends his friend, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. "Speaking of working things off..."
His hands slide from my waist to my hips, drawing me back against him more firmly. Six months together, and his touch still ignites me instantly. I turn in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss him properly.
"Later," I promise against his lips. "After everyone leaves."
"I'll hold you to that," he murmurs, giving me one more lingering kiss before releasing me. "What else needs doing before they arrive?"
I check the time—just past noon, with guests due at two. "Nothing urgent. The Mustang's running well for the drive to the airport tomorrow?"
His expression shifts to one of professional pride. "Purring like a kitten. Better than when it was new."
The Mustang had been finished three months ago, a labor of love that took longer than expected due to Diesel's injuries and the specialized parts needed. But now it runs perfectly—a cherry-red dream machine that turns heads whenever I drive through town.
"I still can't believe how beautiful she is," I say, thinking of the car sitting in our garage. "Grandpa Joe would be amazed at what you accomplished."
"What we accomplished," Diesel corrects, ever generous with credit. "You did half the work."
"Under expert supervision," I counter with a smile.
He shrugs, that small half-smile playing at his lips. "You're a natural. Could probably run Grizzle & Grind yourself these days."
The comment, casual as it is, sends a little thrill through me.
We haven't discussed it formally yet, but I've been spending more and more time at the garage, learning everything I can.
After leaving my soul-crushing marketing career behind, I've discovered a passion for mechanical work that rivals my love for the written word.
"Maybe someday," I say, letting the possibility hang between us. "When we expand."
His eyes light up at the mention of our shared dream. Expanding Grizzle & Grind has been a frequent topic of our late-night conversations—adding a restoration wing specializing in classics, maybe even a showroom. Dreams that feel increasingly possible with each passing day.
"Speaking of expansion," Diesel says, voice dropping lower as his hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. "How are you feeling today?"
Warmth floods through me at the gentle gesture. Eight weeks pregnant—our biggest secret, shared only between us until today. "Good. Morning sickness seems to be holding off."
"Good." The tender concern in his eyes makes my heart swell. "Let me know if that changes. And if you get tired during the party—"
"I'll rest," I promise, placing my hand over his. "But I'm fine, truly. Just excited to tell everyone."
The soft smile that spreads across his face is still my favorite thing in the world. "Me too," he admits. "Though Roman's going to be insufferable when he finds out he was right."
I laugh, remembering Roman's prediction the night Diesel brought me to Sunday dinner at Iron Vine Estate for the first time. "You two will be making babies within the year," he'd declared after his third glass of wine, earning him a smack from his wife Christine and a death glare from Diesel.
"He'll be even worse when he finds out the other news," I point out, my left hand rising automatically to touch the ring that now adorns my finger—a simple, elegant band Diesel slipped onto my hand just last week during a sunset hike to our favorite lookout point.
The proposal had been perfectly Diesel—straightforward, heartfelt, without unnecessary frills. Just the two of us, the mountains, and a question that felt like the most natural next step in the life we're building together.
"Worth it," Diesel says, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the ring that symbolizes our commitment. "Let him gloat. I'm too happy to care."
The simple admission, so freely given when once he'd guarded his emotions like precious treasure, fills me with quiet joy. This is what love has done for both of us—opened us, softened us, made us more ourselves than we ever were before.
"I love you," I tell him, because I never tire of saying it.
"Love you too." He kisses me again, quick but deep, before glancing at the clock. "I should change. Then I'll help you set up the backyard."
As he heads upstairs, I move to the kitchen window, looking out at the garden we've cultivated together.
Spring flowers bloom in carefully planned beds along the stone path that winds toward the row of pine trees at the edge of our property.
A swing hangs from the sturdy oak branch, built by Diesel with our future child in mind.
Our future child. The thought still feels surreal, wonderful, terrifying. I place my hand over my stomach, imagining the life growing inside me. A new beginning, another branch on the family tree that started with Grandpa Joe.
The sound of a car approaching pulls me from my reverie. Looking at the clock, I realize it's already nearly two—time slipping away while I was lost in thought. Through the window, I see Sage's SUV pulling into our driveway, followed closely by Roman and Christine in their sleek sports car.
Diesel comes downstairs, freshly changed into the blue button-down I love on him, just as the first knock sounds at the door.
"Ready?" he asks, taking my hand.
"Ready," I confirm, squeezing his fingers.
Our friends flood in—Sage with her new boyfriend Jabari, Roman and Christine, Marcus with his latest girlfriend, Noah Kane and Talia, his wife, even Sheriff Parker and his family. The cabin fills with laughter, conversation, the warmth of community we've both found in this small mountain town.
We give tours of the renovated cabin, accept compliments on the work we've done, serve food and drinks, and bask in the glow of friendship that surrounds us. Through it all, Diesel stays close, his hand finding mine in quiet moments, our eyes meeting across the room in silent communication.
Finally, as everyone gathers on the back deck with glasses of champagne (sparkling cider for me, though no one's noticed the substitution yet), Diesel clears his throat.
"Sandra and I wanted to thank you all for coming today," he begins, his deep voice carrying easily across the space. "This past year has been... transformative for both of us."
I step closer, leaning against his side as he continues.
"A year ago, I was stuck in my ways, content with my solitary life. Then this stubborn woman" —he squeezes my waist gently— "broke down in my parking lot with a car that was more rust than metal, and everything changed."
Chuckles ripple through our friends at his description.
"We invited you here today not just to see the cabin, but to share some news." He looks down at me, silently asking if I want to take over.
I nod, facing our gathered friends with a smile I can't suppress. "Two pieces of news, actually." I hold up my left hand, letting the spring sunlight catch on my engagement ring. "First, we're getting married."
Cheers erupt, with Sage rushing forward to hug me while Roman claps Diesel on the back. The congratulations flow, along with demands to know when, where, how he proposed.
Once the excitement settles slightly, I exchange a glance with Diesel, who nods encouragingly.
"And second," I continue, heart racing with joy, "we're expecting a baby. Due in November."
The reaction is immediate and overwhelming—more cheers, tears (from Sage and, surprisingly, Marcus), and a smug "I told you so" from Roman that makes everyone laugh.
As our friends surround us with love and excitement, I look up at Diesel, finding his eyes already on me, filled with a happiness so complete it takes my breath away.
This man, this life, this love—none of it was in my plans when I inherited Grandpa Joe's cabin and set out on a cross-country drive in a beat-up Mustang. But now I can't imagine any other path, any other destination.
"Thank you for breaking down in my parking lot," Diesel whispers against my hair as our friends continue to celebrate around us.
I smile up at him, heart full to bursting. "Thank you for being the grumpy mechanic who fixed more than just my car."
His answering laugh, deep and genuine, is the sound of home. Of belonging. Of a love I never expected but now can't live without.
Later, as the party winds down and the last guests depart, Diesel and I stand on the porch, watching the sunset paint the mountains in shades of gold and pink. His arms encircle me from behind, one hand resting protectively over my stomach.
"Happy?" he asks softly.
I lean back against him, taking in the cabin, the view, the life we've built together. "Completely," I answer truthfully. "You?"
His lips find my temple in a gentle kiss. "More than I ever thought possible."
We stand in comfortable silence, watching darkness fall, stars beginning to appear in the clear mountain sky.
Tomorrow brings more adventures—a trip to Chicago to pack up the last of my things, plans for the wedding, preparations for the baby.
But tonight, in this perfect moment, it's just us, wrapped in the love we found in Crimson Hollow.
"Come to bed," I say finally, turning in his arms to take his hand. "I believe I made you a promise earlier."
His eyes darken with desire as he follows me inside, closing the door behind us on the world outside. Within these walls, we've created our sanctuary, our home, our future.
And as Diesel's lips find mine in the darkness of our bedroom, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I'm meant to be—in his arms, in this cabin, in this small mountain town where a broken-down car led to the greatest love of my life.
Diesel and Sandra are still going strong, and are better than ever.