Epilogue
SARAH
I hadn’t heard of the Azores Islands when Carter suggested it as a honeymoon destination, but he only had to say “tiny island in the Atlantic where hydrangeas grow wild along the roads,” and I was all in.
When we got married in March, we told everyone we were planning a honeymoon for the off-season, mostly so people didn’t question why we didn’t take one right after the wedding. But we never actually planned a trip.
Until we fell in love and decided maybe we deserved a honeymoon after all.
I haven’t been disappointed. This place is magical.
The roads are ridiculously narrow and frequently blocked by herds of cattle. And the beaches aren’t particularly beachy. The Azores Islands are volcanic, so the coastline is defined by rocky cliffsides and crashing waves.
But the hiking has been unreal, we’ve seen at least half a dozen whales, and I’ve eaten my weight in Azores pineapples which are smaller and sweeter and absolutely perfect.
Not that the location truly matters. I think I could go anywhere with Carter and still have a good time.
I said as much to Anna when we talked this morning, and she playfully rolled her eyes, then grumbled something about newlyweds.
But I’m determined to soak this up as long as I possibly can.
I believe her when she says it won’t always feel this perfect.
That eventually, we’re going to have to work a little to make sure our marriage stays healthy.
But I’m happy to ride this wave as long as I possibly can.
Besides. It hasn’t all been perfect. We’ve been fighting over the thermostat in the adorable stone cottage we’re renting all week long.
I like to sleep with the windows open, feel the sea breeze against my face, and he likes to seal the place up tight and crank the temperature down to sixty-four degrees.
Something about optimal sleeping conditions, blah, blah, blah.
He ends up in nothing but his boxer briefs under a sheet while I’m wearing two layers of flannel and wool socks with the comforter folded in half to give me double the warmth.
He thinks my body temperature must be abnormally low. I think he spends too much time on the ice and his perspective is warped.
I do love it that when our room is a little colder, he has to use his furnace of a body to warm me up. There are definitely worse things in life than sleeping in his arms.
Now, on the evening before we’re flying home, I’m on the back patio of our cottage, waiting for Carter to take a shower, sending a million texts to my brother.
Right before we left, I finished Carter’s painting, and if Miles can figure out how to hang it without putting a hole in my living room wall, it’ll be up by the time we get home.
Miles
This thing is enormous. I don’t know how to get it on the wall.
Sarah
Don’t try it by yourself. Is there anyone there who can help you?
Miles
I brought Poppy. She wanted to visit Gordie.
Sarah
Is there anyone older than seven who can help you? Is Kim around?
Carter’s mom has been staying at our house, cat sitting Gordie for the week. We had so many people we could have asked to check on Gordie—his mom didn’t need to fly all the way in from Texas—but something tells me she wanted to spend some time with Theo.
He’s been seeing a therapist this summer, which he says has been great, but I know first-hand that it’s also a lot of work.
After a month of bi-weekly sessions with my therapist, I managed to go to exactly one hockey game of this past season: the sixth game of the Eastern Conference Finals in which the Jaguars lost to the Warriors and fell out of the running for the Stanley Cup.
It was a close game, and I hate that they lost, though I think a part of Carter didn’t mind. When they do win a Stanley Cup—because they will eventually—he wants his brother to be on the ice beside him.
Either way, the night still felt like a win to me.
Now that I’ve gotten the first one behind me, I think next season is going to be a lot easier.
In retrospect, it almost feels silly. That I let fear rule so many of my decisions for so long.
But therapy has also taught me that I deserve to have grace with myself.
I can learn from my past experiences, but I don’t have to live in them.
I can move forward with intention. Be a better version of myself—for me, for the rest of my family, for Carter.
Miles
Kim is lounging by the pool. I think she’s asleep.
Sarah
I’m sure she’d be happy to help. She and I talked about you coming over to hang it for me. Or can you call Holly? I bet he’d come over.
Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I can just leave it in my studio and take Carter upstairs to see it. Then he can help me hang it and I can be there to make sure everything goes exactly according to plan.
Miles
Stop worrying. I’ll figure it out. He’s going to love it, Sarah. You did good.
Not exactly the most effusive compliment, but coming from Miles, it means a lot.
“What has you looking so serious?” Carter says, stepping up behind me. He lifts his hands and brushes my hair away from my neck, then leans down to press a trail of kisses over my exposed shoulder.
I quickly scramble to put away my phone. “Nothing. Just looking at new pictures Anna sent over of the girls.”
“And they made you frown?”
“Was I frowning?” I say, voice a little higher than it should be.
“I was probably just missing them.” I spin around, looping my arms around his neck as his hands settle onto my waist. He just got out of the shower after going for a run, and he smells delicious.
His sun-kissed skin is warm and soft, the hair at his nape still damp.
“Hmm. Can I see the pictures?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye.
“Of course you can,” I say, and I reach for my phone.
Luckily, Anna really did send photos this morning, so it isn’t hard to pull them up.
I scroll through several pictures of the girls splashing in Miles and Anna’s pool.
Charlie is with them, red hair sparkling in the sun, and all three have enormous smiles on their faces.
There’s also a photo of four-month-old Fiona, brown eyes wide as she smiles at the camera.
Fiona is the sweetest baby. Easy and good-natured.
She’s a much better sleeper than either of the other girls were, which means Anna is getting better sleep too.
She’s still had a little bit of depression, which we expected, but awareness and support has made it a lot easier to juggle than it was the last time around.
Carter looks at the photos, his expression softening. He loves his new nieces almost as much as they love him. “Those are fun,” he says. “It’s lucky you had them so easily accessible.” He gives me a pointed look. “Is everything okay with your brother?”
I huff. “Carter Williamson, would you just let me have this secret, please? I only need to keep it for about eighteen more hours, then you’ll know exactly why I was texting my brother. But I’m not going to tell you right now.”
He grins, then leans down and kisses away my annoyance. “Sorry,” he says. “I was really just messing with you. Have you happened to check your email today?”
I lift my eyebrows. “Should I?”
His mouth moves to my jawline, his hands lifting to tilt my head just so, exposing my neck. “They scheduled our immigration hearing,” he says, his breath whispering across my skin. “Do you think we’ll be able to convince them we’re in love?”
I close my eyes, goosebumps skittering across my skin as he kisses his way to my earlobe.
“I don’t know,” I manage to say. “I’m not sure we have much chemistry.”
He chuckles before moving his mouth to mine one more time.
When all of this started, we spent so much time worrying about immigration, trying to make everything look legitimate. It feels silly that we were so concerned when we were already so close to falling in love.
I lean into Carter, deepening the kiss in a way that makes him grip my hips, tugging me against him.
It’s time for dinner, and my stomach is already rumbling, but asking me to step out of Carter Williamson’s embrace is like asking a flower to turn away from the sun.
It goes against every instinct. I think a part of me has known that from the beginning. I belong right here.
“If I couldn’t hear your stomach grumbling,” Carter says, his voice low and gravelly, “I’d already have you back in bed.”
I smile against his mouth. “Feed me now. We’ll have time later.”
We have an amazing dinner. Then an amazing moonlit walk along a shoreline trail. Then we come back to our cottage, and Carter opens all the windows so he can make love to me while the sea breeze tickles our skin.
After, I lay cocooned in his arms and fiddle with Carter’s wedding band, spinning it in a circle around his ring finger. I lift my head, propping my chin on his bare chest. His eyes are closed, his expression peaceful.
“When did you know you wanted our relationship to be real?” I ask. “Was there a specific moment?”
He opens his eyes. They’re a deeper blue in the dim light. In the sun, they look more like the sky right at the edge of the horizon, but right now, they’re the color of the ocean outside. I can’t decide which shade I like more.
He seems to consider my question, his hand tracing lazy circles across the skin on my back. “I knew I was into you when I wiped cupcake frosting off your nose in Anna’s pantry,” he says.
“The day we met?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to marry you the day we met, I said I knew I was into you.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?” I ask. “Or ask for my number?”
“Because you were leaving,” he says. “I was still thinking about it. I think I probably would have called. But then…”
“Miles asked you to marry me instead,” I say, and Carter grins.
“Best decision I ever made.”
I shake my head, chuckling as I drop it back onto his chest.
“What about you?” he asks, hand moving to my hair. “When did you know?”