Epilogue #1
Liam
Sam hands me a glass of whiskey, but I shake my head.
“Too nervous to drink.”
He and Will exchange a look behind the rims of their glasses, like they’re about to tie me down to make sure I go through with this wedding, but I laugh before they can say anything.
“Not like that,” I clarify. “I’m nervous because I’m excited.”
I move to the door and peek out into the sanctuary. The church is nearly full, sunlight pouring through the stained-glass windows like something holy. It’s almost time.
Almost time to marry the woman I fell in love with twice—once when I was too stupid to know it, and once when I was smart enough to never let her go again.
Thank god Phern was there to help Olive with all of the details.
I don’t know what we would have done without her. And Will, if I’m being honest.
Ora and my mom sit in the front pew, each cradling one of our daughters. My damn chest cracks wide open at the sight. White dresses. Tiny bows. Matching little shoes that Olive swears they’ll kick off the second we blink. They look like tiny angels. Just like their momma.
“Ah, hell,” Sam says. “He’s got that look in his eyes again.”
Will raises an eyebrow. “You mean the lovesick one? Happens every time he sees those babies or Olive in sweatpants.”
Sam grins. “Can’t blame him. I get the same look every time I see Sam Jr and my beautiful wife.”
Will deadpans, “You got that look when you saw a cinnamon roll last week.”
“Also true,” Sam says, unbothered.
I turn to Will, who’s lounging like he’s got nowhere to be. “You ever gonna settle down?”
“Me? Nah,” he says, grinning. “The bar is my wife. And she’s a jealous lover.”
I snort. “We really need to get you laid.”
Will grimaces. “I saw Olive’s maid of honor. Pretty sure she taught Jesus in kindergarten.”
“She’s sixty,” I clarify.
“And Ruby’s pushing ninety. You stacked that bridal party against me.”
“Sorry,” I say, grinning. “Olive picked who she wanted.”
And she wanted Connie. Her old boss. The woman who gave her a job when she needed direction. Phern, her best friend. And Ruby, who practically raised this whole damn town. None of them are traditional. But that’s the point.
Nothing about Olive’s love is ordinary. And today? Today, it’s mine.
A knock at the door pulls all of our attention. Phern stands in the doorway, arms crossed.
My heart lurches, panic rising.
“What is it?” I ask, already halfway to her.
She sighs like this is somehow my fault. “Apparently, this is my life now.”
“Phern.” My voice sharpens.
She gives me a long, weighted look. “Olive would like a word.”
That’s all I need.
I push past her before she can add another word, heart thudding like a war drum. I think I hear Sam laugh behind me, but I’m already moving too fast to care.
I find Olive in the bridal suite. And stop dead in my tracks.
She’s standing near the window, sunlight hitting her veil like a halo, the delicate lace of her dress skimming the curve of her belly, the soft swell of her breasts, the shoulders I’ve kissed a thousand times but suddenly feel like I’m seeing for the first time.
“My god,” I breathe.
She turns slowly, and I swear the breath leaves my lungs.
“You’re even more beautiful than the night we met.”
She smirks. “I’d hope so, considering I was soaked in cheap beer and wearing a wet t-shirt.”
I chuckle, stepping closer. “Fair point. But still.”
Her smile softens, and for a second, I think maybe she just wanted to see me. But then her expression shifts. Something unspoken flickers in her eyes.
“Phern said you needed to talk to me,” I say carefully.
She nods. “I do.” She hesitates. “I’ve been thinking…”
Immediately, tension pulls my shoulders tight. “What is it, honey?”
She takes a breath, dramatic and slow. “I’m not sure I can marry a man who doesn’t uphold tradition.”
My brain screeches to a halt. “Wait—what did I forget?”
I thought I nailed this. We planned every detail for months. The flowers. The colors. Sammi in our engagement shoot with the twins. I even gave in to the idea of personalized handkerchiefs. I didn’t forget anything. Did I?
She steps forward, closing the space between us. Her hand rests lightly on my chest. Her eyes gleam.
“According to Charlie,” she says, voice low and sultry, “the key to a long, happy marriage is to consummate it before the ceremony.”
I blink, relief slamming into me like a freight train. Thank fuck. This is something I can handle.
“That sounds like Charlie.”
Olive leans in, lips grazing the edge of my jaw.
“So, husband,” she whispers, “lock that door and bang your wife.”
My entire body lights up like a live wire. I swear my knees go weak.
“Jesus, Olive.”
She pulls back, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just trying to honor tradition.”
I reach behind me without breaking eye contact and turn the lock. Click.
“Oh, honey,” I murmur, sweeping her up into my arms, “I’m all about honoring tradition.”
She grins, wicked and wild. “Then make sure you do it thoroughly.”
“Oh, I plan to,” I growl, already walking her backward toward the velvet chaise as she laughs, radiant and flushed, her veil sliding over one shoulder like the world’s most seductive challenge.
Because some vows can be whispered at an altar. And others? They’re written on skin.
She gasps as I lower her gently to the chaise, her gown pooling around her thighs like a tide I can’t wait to drown in. Her fingers are already in my hair, tugging me down to her, kissing me like she’s starving for it.
Her mouth is soft and wild, tasting of nerves and something sweeter. Her thighs shift beneath my hands as I push the hem of her dress higher, slowly, savoring every inch of her skin as it’s revealed to me.
“Liam,” she whispers, voice shaking, heavy with need. “No more waiting.”
That’s all I need.
I cover her mouth with mine again, one hand curling around the back of her neck, the other sliding up her leg to grip her hip and hold her there, pressed against me.
She moans into my mouth, hips lifting, and I swear my restraint snaps like a damn rope.
Her back arches as I trail kisses down her jaw, her throat, between the soft swell of her breasts.
She’s shaking beneath me. Her hands clutching at my shoulders, fingers digging into my shirt.
I murmur her name like a prayer against her skin and I free myself and brush against her opening.
“I love you,” I breathe. “Every part of you.”
Her eyes meet mine, glossy and blazing, and she pulls me down into her like she’s claiming me right back.
We move together slow and urgent, like a memory remade in fire.
Her nails rake down my back, her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer, deeper, until we lose ourselves in the heat and rhythm and heartbeat between us.
Her breaths turn to gasps. Her gasps turn to cries.
And when she falls apart beneath me I follow her over the edge, breaking open in the best damn way.
Afterward, she lies sprawled across the chaise, hair tangled, dress half-shucked, veil on the floor. And she’s never looked more beautiful.
I tuck a hand behind her neck, leaning in our lips brush.
“I’d marry you a thousand times over,” I whisper.
She smiles, soft and sated. “Good. Because you’re already late to our first one.”
My eyes widen when I look at the clock.
“Shit.”
She grins. “Let’s get married, cowboy.”
I’m standing at the front of the church, heart pounding so loud it drowns out the music, the murmurs, the weight of every eye in the room.
But all I see is her. My bride. The mother of my children. And the love of my life.
She steps into the aisle, her arm tucked through her dad’s, veil floating gently behind her. Light filters through the stained glass and catches on her dress, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
She’s glowing. Not just because of the soft lace and ivory satin, but because she’s her. Fierce. Forgiving. The best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. And she’s walking toward me.
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them, hot and unapologetic.
Sam claps a hand on my shoulder from behind.
Will mutters, “Told you he’d cry.”
I barely register any of it. Because she’s close now. So close I can see the shimmer in her eyes. The slight quiver in her smile. The way she’s fighting not to cry too. Her dad places her hand in mine, and I curl my fingers around hers like they’ve always belonged there.
She leans in, her voice so soft only I can hear it.
“Hi,” she whispers, eyes shining.
My chest caves in. I smile through the tears and whisper back, “Hi.”
And just like that everything I’ve ever been waiting for… is here.
The ceremony is a blur, but then I take Olive’s hand into mine, my thumb brushing over her skin.
My voice I slow, like I’m holding everything back just enough to speak clearly.
“Olive. I didn’t know how to say it when I should’ve.
I didn’t know how to be the man you deserved when you were right in front of me, loving me anyway.
It took you leaving to finally open my damn eyes.
” I smile. “I had to feel what life was like without you… to understand that it wasn’t a life at all.
I love you, Olive. I loved you the moment we met in that bar.
I loved you through every second I couldn’t say the words. ”
My breath shudders. “And now? Now I wake up knowing I’m the luckiest man alive because you came back.
I promise to love you with everything I have.
To show up. To keep showing up. I promise to never stop fighting for us.
Because you’re my home, Olive. And I’m never going to take that for granted again. ”
She smiles up at me with tears in her eyes.
“Wow. That’s going to be hard to top,” she murmurs.
“You’ve got this, honey.”
She looks up at me with those eyes I’ve never been able to lie to, and when she speaks, it’s soft. But every word hits me like a storm wrapped in sunlight.
“You didn’t say ‘I love you’ the first time I needed to hear it.
But you showed up the moment it really mattered.
You let me walk away. Not because you didn’t care, but because you didn’t know how to hold on yet.
And still, somehow… I knew you would find your way back.
” She smiles. “I loved you when you were impossible. And I loved you even when I hated you a little. But it took me leaving to see just how much I needed to come back to this life. To this love. To you.”
Someone sniffles, and, god, I know the feeling.
She continues.
“You are the most stubborn, infuriating, soft-hearted man I’ve ever known.
You build fences like a damn pro and break them down just as easily.
Especially the ones around your heart. And now that I know what’s inside that heart I’m never letting go of it.
” A tear rolls down her cheek. “I promise to forgive you when you mess up. To laugh with you when we’re exhausted and covered in spit-up.
To love you through every storm, every drought, and every miracle we get to raise.
You are my best friend. And I choose you, Liam Stone, again and again and again. ”
She smiles through tears, and I’m wrecked. And when the officiant says you may now kiss the bride, I do without hesitation, without fear. Because this time? I know exactly what I have to lose. And I’ll never take her for granted again.