Epilogue Fast-forward a few months
Epilogue
Fast-forward a few months
Zoey
Ican’t believe I’m here…on a terrace overlooking a lake…in a bridesmaid dress that I frantically had to scrub deodorant streaks out of…watching my best friend in the world marry her soulmate…while my fiancé makes “let’s get naked” eyes at me from the other side of the aisle.
Of course I’m the maid of honor. And I look fabulous in my chiffon bridesmaid dress, especially since I no longer have to accessorize with a wrist brace. Broken bones and hearts have healed. This place is practically medicinal.
Hazel is so beautiful I can’t look at her directly without crying. And Cam is as happy as I’ve ever seen him, which doesn’t sound like much, but trust me. You’d believe in happily ever afters too just looking at them.
It’s my second summer here, which means I’ve already sweated through my misapplied deodorant. This Pennsylvania humidity is no joke.
Which is why Gage and I are getting married this fall when cooler temperatures prevail. Did I mention we’ll be getting married on his parents’ farm? Yes, you heard that correctly. I, Zoey Moody, am getting married on a farm.
Life sure is funny, isn’t it?
I never imagined I’d get married, let alone on a farm, let alone wake up in an actual barn under a pile of dogs next to a small-town, blue-collar hunk. But here I am. I’m basically glowing from daily orgasms and regular high-protein meals. It would be annoying as hell if it wasn’t me.
It’s been a busy few months. With Hazel’s book becoming a #1 New York Times bestseller and Opal’s big fat seven-figure advance, I climbed out of the financial hole and have been responsibly rebuilding my wardrobe as well as my retirement savings.
I work out of the den that Gage sexily converted to a home office for me.
He also extended the pasture so that it comes right up to my office window so Pepe the miniature donkey can say hi every day.
I know. I know. I take donkey-petting breaks. If it weren’t for the curls and constant clumsiness, I might not recognize myself in the mirror.
When he’s not terrorizing the tourists in town, Goose hangs out on our garage roof and shits all over the cupola. I think it’s his love language. Gage says as long as the eagle doesn’t start eating koi out of the pond, he’ll just deal with power washing the roof once a week.
Mr. Responsible also insisted I get a new, more reliable car with all-wheel drive, so I did the irresponsible thing and gave Isla the Miata.
I am officially the favorite aunt! Suck it, Hazel!
And now I have an SUV with air-conditioned seats.
So it was pretty much a win-win. Gage and I both keep dimes in our cupholders for luck.
In between ultimate bingo games (my team is in second place thanks mostly to having Gage as my cocaptain), Gage’s dual businesses, and me coddling my authors into writing books, we’re having an ongoing conversation about kids. (Me and Gage, not me and my authors.) Should we? How? How many?
It’s a lot to process after so many years of accepting it just wasn’t in the cards for me. But Gage makes everything feel possible. Plus, I feel less terrified at the prospect of raising kids, knowing that Pep and Frank are just over the hill with their decades of parenting expertise.
Things with my parents are still strained but a little less so.
I didn’t hear from them for a month or so after my birthday.
Then both parents started texting me out of the blue.
Mom about seeing Hazel and her book on the morning show and Dad asking for advice about his new wardrobe.
We’re a long way from healthy, and I don’t think we’ll ever have the deep, heartfelt “I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you needed me to be” conversation. But I’m okay with it.
We’re all just doing the best we can.
I am still a natural disaster. I still have ADHD.
But I’m learning how to manage it (and myself) with a little more grace.
I carry a paper calendar with me everywhere.
Opal bought me a pair of incredibly expensive noise-canceling headphones that help me focus.
And Gage has been a good sport about body doubling when I need to finish important tasks.
Of course, it usually ends up in strip body doubling.
But no one’s complaining about that (except Declan, who walked in on us after-hours once just as Gage lost his pants).
Having a partner who loves and appreciates me even with all my little “quirks” makes life so much better.
And having me around has made Gage loosen up a little. He didn’t even bat an eye when I set up an air mattress and a bunch of candles in the backyard so we could have sex outside during a meteor shower.
Of course, the dogs popped the mattress, and one of the candles caught the grass on fire. But the sex was still awesome. Life is an adventure!
Speaking of adventures, Levi has hinted—through a series of monosyllabic grunts and phrases—that he might be ready to share a draft of his book with me. It’s kind of cute to see Mr. Tough Silent Guy creatively terrified.
I’m excited enough to read his manuscript that I haven’t warned him about Hazel.
When she gets back from their honeymoon in Turks and Caicos, she’s going to be looking for inspiration for the next story.
Which means her matchmaking obsession will need a new target, and who better than the handsome, single, small-town cop?
Heh. Poor guy.
I can’t wait to see what happens next!
That’s life in Story Lake: Birds throw snakes at you here!
Read Hazel’s story in Story of My Life now!