Epilogue
Peyton
Two Years Later
“Romy, why did we even agree to this job if we have zero details?” I brush a small leaf off the sleeve of my sweater dress and squint at the Waterton Greenhouse sign.
“Peyton, the client wanted to meet in person to explain. All I know is that it’s for an event next year, and they’ll give you more info soon.” I can sense her frustration all the way from the office through the phone.
I balance my phone on my shoulder while reaching down and pulling up my drooping knee socks. “Okay, but like, why do you keep saying client? Prue Carrington owns the greenhouse. Both you and I know this.”
Romy sighs. “I’ve already told you. Prue is out, so you’re meeting with someone else. A new employee. She told me their name, but I forgot.”
“We should’ve just sent Kai to this assignment,” I grumble.
Kai, our newest employee, just finished his training.
He’ll be doing his first gig alone next week.
It was tough at first, going through the interview and selection process with strange men, but Kai’s really great.
Professional, kind, and good at his job.
Just last month, he convincingly portrayed a protective boyfriend for a woman in Detroit.
Now, that woman is dating the man she made jealous.
Not the most rock-solid start to any relationship, but I wish her all the best.
Papers shuffle on the other end of the line. “They didn’t want Kai, they wanted you. Peyton, just go inside. I have work to do.”
I adjust my shoulder bag. “Damn, fine. Push your boss off the phone, then. I’ll talk to you later.”
We end the call, and I swing open the doors of the greenhouse. As soon as I see the khakis, polo, and wavy auburn hair, I know it’s my man standing there.
“Callum?”
He turns around with a smile, looking hot in his health inspecting uniform—my favorite. God, I love that slutty little bump cap. Even after two years together, it never gets old. Though, no matter how hard I’ve begged, he still won’t wear the hard hat in bed.
I walk toward him, my Docs crunching on the gravel pathway. I went with a comfortable, green bell-sleeve sweater dress today because Romy said the client wanted me to “come as myself.”
“Are you here to inspect something? Honestly, I’m glad to see you.
This brief gave me nothing to work with.
For all I know, I could be meeting the man who sells those Ghost-in-the-Jars in front of Francesco’s.
Which, let’s be honest—it’s just air in there.
Romy swears she saw one glow when she was in seventh grade, but I have my doubts. ”
He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not here to inspect. I’m actually in need of Good Taste’s services.”
I grin. Okay… I’ll play along. “Oh? What for?”
He pushes his hair back from his face. “I need a plus one for an event in the future.”
Wearing a mock-serious expression, I retrieve my tablet from my bag. “Okay, sir. Let me walk you through our basic intake form. First question: Where is it?”
His eyes dance with amusement. “Somewhere nice of your choosing.”
“Noted.” I jot down a pretend note with my stylus. “What’s the dress code?”
“Up to you, but I’m guessing you’ll wear white.”
My brows furrow in confusion, and I look up from my tablet to find Callum on one knee.
“Hey, honey. How’re we feeling?” he asks softly.
I rear back. “What the fuck is going on here, Callum?”
His eyes fill with amusement. “So, we’re feeling good then. Perfect. I’m going to propose to you now.”
I slide my tablet back in my purse, my heart beating rapidly.
“Here’s the thing, Pey. You and me, we started as good luck. But then we made our own. We made our own luck over, and over, and over again, with every run-in we planned. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’d like to keep running into you, every day, for the rest of my life.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“I love you, Peyton Moore. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, Callum William Galvin. Toledo-Lucas County Health Inspector.”
Loud laughter rolls out of him as he stands and wraps me in his arms. Spinning me around, he gives me a little dip. I laugh, too. Even the plants seem to sway a bit, like they’re cheering us on.
Callum sets me down, but doesn’t let go of my waist. “Now there’s only one thing left to do.”
Personally, I can’t think of a single thing. I’m happily succumbing to a love-drunk haze.
“Hmm? What is it?” I ask dazedly.
He purses his lips and takes a step backward. “I need to check your hands for cleanliness.”
That snaps me right back to reality. “What?”
His features brighten with happiness. “Hold out your hand. The left one, specifically.”
I extend my fingers, and Callum slides a ring on. A gold ring with a modest oval emerald in the middle, surrounded by a halo of small diamonds. Absolutely stunning.
“There’s something on the sides,” he tells me.
I lift my finger up and gasp at the engraved design on the band. Beautiful little flowers crawling up the side. Wait.
“Are those cherry blossoms?”
He smiles, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “It was either that, or a meat thermometer.”
* * *