Epilogue
Dixie
The August heat wrapped around Bitter Root like a blanket, turning the sidewalks into griddles and sending everyone scrambling for shade by noon. But inside Dough & Arrow, the air conditioning hummed and the ovens filled the kitchen with warmth that felt earned rather than oppressive.
I pulled a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven, golden brown and glossy with butter. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water — brown sugar and spice and a little bit of heaven.
"Beautiful," Ruby said, peering over my shoulder. "You're getting better than us, and that's saying a lot."
"She's being modest," Pearl added from her spot at the decorating station, where she was piping delicate roses onto a two-tier anniversary cake. "Ruby hasn't made cinnamon rolls that pretty in years."
"I heard that."
"You were meant to."
I bit back a smile. Half a year of working with the Garrett sisters, and their bickering had become as familiar as my own heartbeat.
They argued about everything — the right temperature for proofing dough, the proper shade of pink for wedding roses, whether Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin made better baking music.
But underneath the squabbling was fifty years of partnership and a love for this bakery that showed in every perfectly crimped pie crust.
They'd taken me in when I was a server with a dream and no credentials. Now I was their official apprentice, learning recipes they'd guarded for decades, working toward ownership of a business that had been the heart of Bitter Root since before I was born.
Some days I still couldn't believe it was real.
"The Harrison order needs to go out by two," Ruby reminded me, nodding toward the pickup counter. "And Laverne called again about her niece's baby shower cake. She wants pink and blue because they're not finding out the gender, but she also wants it to be 'surprising' somehow."
"She wants a cake that reveals the gender they don't know?"
"That's what I said. Pearl told her we'd figure something out."
"Pearl is an optimist."
"Pearl is standing right here," Pearl called without looking up from her roses, "and Pearl thinks you two should stop gossiping and start glazing those cinnamon rolls before they get cold."
I grabbed the bowl of cream cheese glaze and got to work. Through the front window, I could see Main Street baking in the summer sun — tourists wandering between shops, locals ducking into Bitter Beans for iced coffee, the lunch crowd starting to trickle toward The Hungry Heifer.
I didn't work there anymore. Doris had hugged me when I gave my notice, told me she'd always known I was meant for bigger things. Now I stopped by as a customer, ordering pie and leaving tips that made the servers' eyes go wide.
It felt wonderful. Being on this side of things. Building a future instead of just surviving.
The bell over the door chimed, and I looked up to see Laverne Tidwell sweeping in with her signature red hair teased to impressive heights.
"Dixie Lane!" She descended on me like a sequined tornado. "I was just telling May — I said, 'May, that girl is proof that love finds you when you least expect it.' And who introduced them? Who made sure Hunter's mystery date got the attention she deserved?"
"You did, Mama." May appeared behind her, phone already out. "I quoted you in the anniversary article."
"Anniversary article?"
"For Bitter Tea." May beamed. "The romance of the decade — and Mama's the one who broke the story. She's been reminding everyone in town for months now."
"I'm a matchmaker," Laverne announced, pressing a hand to her chest. "I have an eye for these things. The moment I saw you two at that rehearsal dinner, I knew. Didn't I know, May?"
"You knew, Mama."
"I told everyone at Fringe Benefits — I said, 'Mark my words, that's a love story in the making.' And was I right?"
"You were right, Laverne," I said, because agreeing was always easier than arguing.
"Of course I was." She patted my cheek. "'From Uber to Altar: A Bitter Root Love Story.' May's doing a retrospective. It's going to be huge."
"We're not engaged," I said automatically.
"Yet." Laverne winked. "I've seen the way that boy looks at you. It's only a matter of time. And when it happens, I expect full credit."
"Laverne, did you come in to discuss the baby shower cake?" Ruby appeared at my elbow, her tone pleasant but firm.
"Oh! Yes. Pink and blue, but surprising. What if the inside was rainbow? Or shaped like a question mark? Or—"
Ruby steered her toward the consultation table, shooting me a look over her shoulder that clearly said you owe me.
May lingered, scrolling through her phone. "Seriously, though — you two are adorable. My follower count tripled after the wedding posts. Hunter carrying you across the dance floor? Perfection."
"That was months ago."
"Romance never gets old." She showed me her screen — a photo I'd never seen, taken at the reception. Hunter and I were on the dance floor, his arms around my waist, my head tilted back laughing at what he'd said. We looked happy. We looked real.
Because we were.
"Can I use this for the article?" May asked.
"Fine. But run any quotes by me first."
"Deal!" She bounced off to join her mother, and I went back to glazing cinnamon rolls with a warmth that had nothing to do with the ovens.
HUNTER PICKED ME UP at five, his truck pulling into the alley behind the bakery where I waited with flour in my hair and frosting on my apron.
"Hey, gorgeous." He leaned across to push open the passenger door, that familiar grin spreading across his face.
"I'm covered in powdered sugar."
"Still gorgeous."
I climbed in and kissed him, tasting coffee and sweetness underneath. Months of dating Hunter Massey, and kissing him still made my stomach do a slow roll.
"How was work?" I asked as he pulled onto Main Street.
"Closed the Morrison deal."
"The cattle partnership?"
"Full agreement. Dad actually said he was proud of me." Hunter's voice was light, but I heard the emotion underneath. "In front of Hudson and everything."
"Hunter, that's amazing."
"Yeah." He reached over to squeeze my hand. "It kind of is."
The past months had changed more than just my life.
Hunter had stepped up at the ranch in ways nobody expected — not just schmoozing investors at parties, but building real partnerships, negotiating deals that would secure Massey Ranch for another generation.
His father had started asking his opinion at family dinners.
His mother had stopped making pointed comments about settling down and getting to business.
Hudson and Kendall were back from their extended honeymoon, already talking about babies, and for the first time Hunter didn't seem to bristle at the comparison. He'd found his own lane. His own value.
Turns out the family screw-up had been a secret asset all along. He'd just needed someone to believe in him.
We pulled into my mother's driveway at five-thirty, right on schedule. Sunday dinners had become sacred — Hunter, me, Daisy, and Mama gathered around her kitchen table every week without fail. Hunter called it "claiming Sundays." I called it the best decision we'd ever made.
The front door burst open before we'd even made it up the walk.
"Hunter! Hunter! Guess what!"
Daisy launched herself off the porch steps, and Hunter caught her with the ease of long practice, swinging her up onto his hip.
"What? Did Mr. Bun-Bun learn to fly?"
"No, silly." She giggled, swatting his shoulder. "MiMi let me help make cookies! I put in the chocolate chips ALL BY MYSELF."
"All by yourself? That's very impressive. Were there any left for the cookies, or did they all end up in your mouth?"
"Some went in my mouth," Daisy admitted. "But only a few. Maybe ten."
"Ten is very reasonable."
I watched them together — my daughter chattering about her day, Hunter listening like every word was the most important thing he'd ever heard — and felt my chest squeeze.
He'd shown up. Every single day since February. For school pickups and bedtime stories and Saturday morning cartoons. For scraped knees and bad dreams and endless questions about dinosaurs.
Daisy didn't call him Daddy. Not yet. But last week she'd asked if Hunter could come to her preschool's father-daughter breakfast, and the look on his face had been worth everything.
"You coming, Mama?" Daisy called.
"Right behind you, baby."
Inside, the house smelled like cookies and fried chicken. Mama had the table set with her best dishes — the ones she'd inherited from her mother, white with tiny blue flowers around the edges.
"There you are." Mama pulled me into a hug, then held me at arm's length to study my face. "You look tired. Are you sleeping enough?"
"I'm fine, Mama."
"She's been at the bakery since five AM," Hunter said, settling Daisy into her booster seat. "Ruby's got her working harder than any ranch hand."
"It's worth it." I took my usual spot at the table, between Hunter and Daisy. "Pearl said another few months and I'll know enough to run the place on my own. I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m loving every minute."
"That's my girl." Mama beamed. "Your grandmother would be so proud."
The mention of Grandma landed differently these days.
For years, the memory had been tangled up with guilt — the funeral I'd missed, the calls I hadn't returned, all the ways I'd failed when I was drowning in Houston.
But lately, when I stood at the bakery's marble counter rolling out pie dough the way she'd taught me, the grief had started to feel more like gratitude.
She'd given me part of herself. The love of flour and sugar, the patience to wait for dough to rise, the understanding that feeding people was its own kind of love. I was just finally ready to receive it.
"Can I say grace?" Daisy asked.
"Of course, baby."
We all bowed our heads. Daisy clasped her hands together with the gravity of a tiny preacher.
"Dear God, thank you for fried chicken and cookies and Mr. Bun-Bun. Thank you for MiMi and Mama and Hunter." She paused, then added in a rush: "And please let the triceratops be real somewhere because they're the best dinosaurs. Amen."
"Amen," we echoed, and I met Hunter's eyes across the table. He was grinning, that dimple showing, and he mouthed I love you.
I love you too, I mouthed back.
After dinner, Daisy dragged Hunter outside to see the caterpillar she'd found on the porch railing while Mama and I did the dishes.
"He's a wonderful man," Mama said, handing me a plate to dry. "I wasn't sure at first — a Massey, the money, that reputation of his. But he's proven himself."
"He has."
"He asked me a question last week." Mama kept her eyes on the sink. "When you were working late and he brought Daisy over for dinner."
My pulse kicked. "What did he ask?"
"For my blessing." Mama turned to look at me, eyes shining. "To marry you."
The plate nearly slipped from my hands. "Mama—"
"I said yes, obviously." She laughed, wiping her eyes with a soapy hand. "Told him he'd better treat you right or I'd make his life a living hell. He said he was counting on it."
Through the kitchen window, I could see Hunter crouched on the porch, Daisy beside him, both of them examining whatever was in his palm. He said something that made her laugh, and she threw her arms around his neck with the total abandon of a child who had never learned to guard her heart.
Once, I'd thought love like this wasn't for people like me. That my past had disqualified me from happiness, that the mistakes I'd made would follow me forever.
But here I was. Training at the bakery I'd dreamed about since childhood. Watching my daughter adore a man who'd shown up when it mattered. Standing in my mother's kitchen, knowing I was loved exactly as I was — history and all.
Hunter looked up and caught my gaze through the window. He winked.
I didn't know when he'd ask. Didn't know how or where or what ring he'd chosen. But I knew what my answer would be.
The same word I'd said that first night in my Honda Civic, when a drunk cowboy offered me five thousand dollars to be his fake wedding date.
Yes.
Some risks were worth taking. Because sometimes, like May said, love finds you in the most unexpected places.