Epilogue
In the end, we waited a year.
Granny nearly had a stroke every time she saw us together, still unhitched. Especially since Mom and Dad let Jules and me live in their house, in adjacent bedrooms, so Weston would never feel the difference. But it was the right choice.
Jules needed that time to heal and to focus on working through her past without my constant need to haul her to the bedroom acting as a trigger. Oh, I still wanted to. Badly. But I’d made a career out of waiting for Jules.
During those twelve months, I learned my instincts were right.
Jules really was the love of my life. Taking it slow gave me a chance to notice the things I’d missed on our first rushed trip down the aisle.
From the way she bit her thumbnail when she was thinking, to how she couldn’t walk past someone standing alone without pulling them into a conversation.
But for a woman the whole world looked at, the most beautiful thing about her had nothing to do with her face. It had everything to do with how she loved our boy. Perfectly, patiently, and full of wonder—like she was mothering her younger self at the same time.
The morning of our wedding, I stood outside Jules’s bedroom—James’s old room—listening, a breakfast tray in my hands. The door was cracked just enough for me to see Jules lying on her side, wearing leggings and a T-shirt. Weston jumped up and down on the bed until he fell over onto his back.
She dove into his belly, blowing raspberries.
He shrieked.
“Now, listen,” she said once he’d settled down. “You have to be a good boy while Mommy and Daddy are gone this week, okay?” She tickled him, and he squealed. “We’re going on our honeymoon.”
“Hunny-mo,” Weston tried.
“Very good.” She brushed his bangs to the side.
“I’m going to miss you so much, but your Grammy Lemon and Bampa Silo are going to take such good care of you.
They’ll feed you chocolate ice cream and chicken nuggets, and you can suck all the ketchup off the French fries and throw them on the floor, and they won’t even care.
” After another raspberry, Weston shrieked again.
“And Bampa will take you on horsey rides.”
“Hosies!” Weston yelled.
“Yes, horsies. But remember. You have to be very careful today when you carry the rings on your pillow, okay? Don’t worry, though, Daddy will tie them down.”
“Dada, wings,” Weston said.
“That’s right. You’ll carry the rings. And I’ll carry my flowers. And Dada will stand at the front by Funcle Ford—”
“Func Fo,” Weston tried.
“Yes. Funcle Ford is officiating. So he’ll stand at the front, and Dada will be next to him with all his groomsmen. And when Dada sees us, he’ll smile his best smile—like we are the two best things that ever happened to him.”
I nudged the door open with my foot and came in sideways, keeping the tray level. “You are the two best things that ever happened to me.”
“Dada!” Weston squealed.
“There’s my handsome man.” Juliette beamed—that smile, the one that had destroyed men on all seven continents—aimed entirely at me. “Did you make me breakfast in bed?” she asked with a sigh.
“I did. Now scooch up by your pillow and let me pamper you properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
While she settled against the headboard, Weston jumped up and down, arms raised for me to pick him up.
“Hold on, buddy.” I leaned down and put the tray across Jules’s lap. While I was there, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then I yanked Weston into my arms, making him lose it.
“Crepes?” Jules asked with a gasp. “Did you make these?”
“Sophie might’ve helped.” I bounced Weston in my arms.
“Sophie made everything but the chocolate sauce,” my sister called from the kitchen. “Griffin did that.”
“Everybody knows the chocolate sauce is the most important part,” Bowen hollered.
“Exactly,” I said.
“More important than the crepe itself?” Sophie said to Bowen. “Yeah, no. Also, you get no say because you helped make nothing. As a matter of fact, hand over your plate. What are you even doing here? Go home to your wife.”
“Hey, give that back!” Bowen shouted. “Magnolia’s sleeping in, and I’m hungry.”
“What do I look like?” Sophie yelled. “The little red hen? If you want the food, you gotta show up to help make it. Otherwise, starve.”
“Jules didn’t help, and she’s eating crepes,” Bowen protested.
“Jules is getting married today. She gets a pass. You’re just being a nuisance. And a pig.”
“I’m a pig?” he asked. “Whose pants are getting too tight?”
Sophie shrieked.
“Bowen.” I shook my head.
“Her pants look just fine!” Boone called from the other end of the house. He’d flown in for the wedding and was staying in Anna’s old room. “Trust me,” he added in a flirty tone.
“Nobody asked for your help, Ken Doll!” Sophie shot back.
Boone only laughed his cocky laugh. The man loved a challenge, and Sophie was definitely that.
The garbage disposal roared to life.
“Did you seriously just destroy my crepes?” Bowen yelled, voice an octave higher.
“D’oh.” My mouth dropped.
Jules’s mouth hung open too.
Weston’s mouth formed an O to match ours.
“That’s it!” Bowen yelled. “Your crepes are mine.”
It was mayhem after that. Carrying Weston, I jogged out to see Bowen chasing Sophie in circles around the kitchen island as she forked massive bites of crepe into her mouth. Jules slid in next to us.
“Grab her!” Bowen shouted. “She mutilated my breakfast.”
“I’m not trying to die, bro. It’s my wedding day. Plus, baby on board.” I gestured to Weston.
“Fine,” he barked. “I’ll do it myself.” Then he launched himself onto the granite countertop, slid across it, and tackled Sophie to the floor.
The paper plate of crepes flipped through the air and landed on the hardwood next to them, facedown.
“Oof.” Boone watched from across the room, arms folded, shirtless, casually leaning against the doorjamb.
“Look what you did!” Sophie smacked Bowen on the shoulder. She let out a string of words that sent Jules lunging for Weston’s ears.
Bowen, completely expressionless, picked up a crepe and jammed it into Sophie’s mouth like a plug.
She spat it out, hitting him in the face. “Y-you think I want that now?” she sputtered.
Bowen’s head metronomed from side to side. Then he shoved the crepe in his mouth, head bobbing with satisfaction as he chewed.
Sophie howled like she’d been stabbed. She dragged three fingers through the chocolate sauce on the plate and smeared it down his face.
Boone grinned as if he’d never seen anything more attractive.
Finally, Mom and Dad came running in. From the looks of their rumpled clothes and messy hair, they’d been… otherwise occupied.
Weston clapped. “Bampa he-uh.” Dad was his favorite human on earth, right behind Jules and me.
“What on earth?” Mom said.
“Clean this up!” Dad boomed, jabbing his finger at Sophie and Bowen. “Now.”
“Cwean w-wis up,” Weston said, trying to mimic him. But his bottom lip curled. He sucked in a breath.
“Uh oh,” I said.
“Here it comes,” Jules said.
Weston let out an ear-splitting wail.
Mom smacked Dad on the arm. “You scared the baby, Si.”
“Shoot.” Dad took Weston from me. “Hey, West, don’t cry,” he soothed, bouncing him on his arm. “Oh, pal, I’m so sorry. Do you want to go pet Rocket?”
“Wocket, Wocket.” Weston clapped, but he was still hiccupping sobs. Dad carried him off toward the front yard.
I chuckled and leaned over to Jules. “I think it’s a very good thing that we’re finally moving into our own place. This house is complete chaos.”
Once again, I was a married man. More importantly, I was once again Jules’s husband.
The grove smelled of sycamores and river water.
Fireflies drifted in the shadows, and twinkle lights swayed, strung from tree to tree above us.
We’d gone with a forest theme, holding the wedding and reception in the grove next to the creek on my family’s farm.
Somewhere in the darkness, a rented generator hummed under the cover of Bowen’s DJ set.
I glanced over at my wife, my arm around the back of her chair.
Even in pajamas, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
But sitting next to me in that off-the-shoulder wedding dress, hair swept up so her neck was bare, a punch glass against her lips, she was almost too much.
Like trying to look directly at the sun.
She was a different woman than a year ago. The trial with DayGlow would begin the week after we returned from our honeymoon, and yet she sat here calmly, wearing a faint smile as she gazed out at the party in front of us.
I jammed a finger under my collar. Stupid bow tie. “You know, for an orphan, you sure are loved.” I gestured at our friends and family. “They all came to celebrate you.”
Her smile widened. “And you.”
“But mostly you.” I eyed her up and down. “Because, dang.”
She shook her head, smiling, and leaned against me.
“Look out there and tell me the first person you see,” I said.
She ran her finger over the rim of her glass. “Weston. So cute in his tux.”
“Of course.” Like any good mom, Jules had a sonar for his whereabouts at all times. Right now, he was slow dancing with my parents, resting on my dad’s arm. “Glad we got his nosebleed stopped.” We’d had to pause the wedding when he faceplanted as he came down the aisle.
“Me too.” She gave me a sad smile. “He was so pitiful.”
“But such a good sport.” He’d only cried for a second. “Who else?”
“Boone.” Jules giggled. “Smoldering at Sophie as she dances with Nick Who’s Just A Friend,” she said like it was his full name. It may as well have been for all the times Sophie had friend-zoned the poor guy.
I looked too. Just in time to catch Sophie—in her pale green bridesmaid dress—catch Boone checking her out.
Looking dapper in his groomsman tux, he winked at her.
She pushed up on her tiptoes and smashed her mouth to Nick’s—all with her eyes wide open, staring at Boone.
Boone didn’t even flinch. Just chuckled and lifted a glass of Martinelli’s to her like, no worries, I’ll wait.