Epilogue
RYDER
One Year Later
The early-June light spills across the water in a warm sweep as I walk with Rhys along the gravel path toward the rebuilt docks below the cottages.
Behind us, the six units gleam with fresh paint and new railings—each sold out with summer bookings.
I told Rhys we’re doing a “dock check” before the first guests arrive this afternoon, but that’s a lie.
Today, Faye and I are finally telling him we’re together.
After a year of sneaking around like teenagers, of stolen kisses at the Moonshine, tucked between the old ice machine and the back door where the neon lights can’t reach, and late-night phone calls after Rhys goes to bed, we’re done hiding.
“Dad, can we say hi to Miss Rose after we check the dock?” Rhys skips beside me, kicking up pebbles with each bounce. “I miss her so much.”
“You didn’t have fun with Mrs. Grant this year?” I ask, mentioning his second-grade teacher.
“She was fine.” He shrugs. “But I preferred Miss Rose.”
I don’t blame you, kid.
The dock comes into view right then. Faye is leaning against the railing at the far end, hair windblown. If she’s aiming to look casual, as if she’d been taking a walk and ended up at the lake by coincidence, she’s failing spectacularly.
Every line of her body screams I’ve been waiting. Her shoulders are tight, she’s gripping the rail, and her gaze is fixed on the path we’re walking.
When she spots us, joy, relief, and mild worry flood her face.
“Miss Rose!” Rhys takes off running.
She catches him when he crashes into her, laughing as she ruffles his hair. “Rhys! Hi, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”
I step closer, hands in my pockets. We haven’t been alone together in two days, and I’m itching to pull her to me and kiss her—do so much more to her.
Faye looks up at me through her lashes, and the want in her eyes mirrors mine.
It’s getting harder and harder to stay apart.
But hopefully, after today, we won’t have to as much.
I tilt my head and give her a not-so-subtle once-over. “Hey, Miss Rose.”
She rolls her eyes while still smiling. “Mr. Evans.”
I go to stand next to her. Her eyes meet mine, asking the question we’ve been bouncing off each other for weeks now.
Are we really doing this?
I give her the smallest nod.
Yeah, I’m all in, trouble.
Rhys tugs on Faye’s sleeve, oblivious to the anticipation running between us. “Are you here to see the docks too? Isn’t it so cool that Dad fixed everything after the storm? They look brand new!”
“Very cool,” Faye agrees. She smiles and smooths Rhys’s hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that makes my throat tight. She glances at me and adds, “Your dad is surprisingly good with his hands.”
I cough.
“With tools,” she blurts, her cheeks flushing. “That’s what I was saying.”
“Yeah, that’s clearly what you meant.” I wink at her.
Her face goes pinker.
Rhys grins up at us. “He’s good at lots of stuff. He can rope a calf in under ten seconds, and he makes the best pancakes, and he helped Uncle Remy deliver a baby goat last week, and—”
Faye is still flustered. I take pity on her and crouch beside my son. “I think Miss Rose gets the picture.” I meet Faye’s eyes one more time before turning my full attention to Rhys. “Hey, bud. We need to talk to you about something important.”
Two days ago, Faye and I drove to Osage Beach to see Dr. Agard together. She walked us through what sharing our relationship with Rhys might look like. The questions he could ask. The reassurances he’d need.
Now his face scrunches in concentration as if he’s trying to figure out if this is good important or bad important. “Okay…”
“Remember when we talked with Dr. Agard about how sometimes grown-ups become really good friends?” I glance up at Faye. “And how those friendships may turn into something more?”
Rhys looks between us.
Then his eyes go wide.
“Are you talking about Miss Rose being your special friend?”
“Yeah, Rhys. Would that be okay with you?”
He’s quiet as he stares down at the dock boards.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is the moment that could go a hundred different ways, most of them complicated. Most of them—
He looks at her now. “So does that mean you’re going to be my mom?”
Faye drops to her knees in front of Rhys, taking his small hands in hers. Her eyes are shiny. “I care about you very much, Rhys. And you can call me however you want, but your mom will always be your mom, even if she’s not with you.”
Rhys nods, his face serious. He looks at her with an expression far too old for eight.
“I don’t remember my mom much,” he says quietly. “Just the pictures Dad showed me. But I remember you. How you always told us it was okay to make mistakes and try again. And how you made voices when reading stories. You still smell like books and flowers. I would love for you to be my mom.”
Faye pulls him into her arms, holding him tight as a tear spills over the corner of her eye. “I would be honored to love you like a mother, Rhys. So honored.”
Each day that passes, I love her more. I’ve never loved her more than in this moment. And tomorrow, I’ll love her more still.
Rhys squeezes back, his face buried in her shoulder. “Does this mean you’re moving in with us?”
She laughs, watery and bright. “Not yet. We went to see Dr. Agard, and she suggested we do things gradually, take our time, so it comes naturally. But if it’s okay with you, we’ll do sleepovers. I’ll come for dinner. We’ll spend more time together. And when it feels right, then yeah—I’ll move in.”
“I love sleepovers!” He pulls back, grinning now. “Can we have movie nights, too?”
“Yes, for sure.” She wipes at her eyes, still smiling. “And how would you feel about going on a vacation together? The three of us?”
“Yes!” He jumps, fists punching the air. “Yes, yes, yes! Where are we going? Can we go to Disney World? Or the beach? Or—ooh, can we go see real dinosaurs?”
“Dinosaurs are extinct, buddy,” I say.
“Dinosaur bones, then. At a museum.”
Faye laughs. “We can go anywhere in the world you want.”
I smirk to myself because she doesn’t mean it figuratively—perks of dating a billionaire.
In the past year, we’ve had frank conversations about money.
About what she can afford and what I can’t.
If we’re going to be a family, we both want to give Rhys and our possible future kids experiences neither of us had growing up—and her wealth makes that possible in ways my income doesn’t.
She’s not keeping score, and I’m not overthinking it.
We’re building a life where money is a topic, not a fault line, and the real balance comes from trusting and choosing each other every day.
Faye’s gaze finds mine over Rhys’s shoulder, full of an emotion I don’t have words for—words are too small for this thing between us.
I see the past year in that look. Our stolen evenings.
The careful distance we had to keep in public.
The ache of not being able to reach for each other at the fun farm or any of the other million places where we’ve stolen hours together—sometimes minutes.
The weight of loving both of them and trying to do right by a kid who’d already lost too much.
It was all worth it.
For this moment.
I move closer and wrap my arms around both of them, pulling them against me. Rhys is sandwiched between us, giggling.
“Dad, you’re squishing me!”
“Too bad.” I tighten my hold. “We’re a squishing family now. You’d better get used to it.”
He wriggles free, still laughing, and announces, “I’m going to look for catfish before you guys become weirder.”
He takes off down the dock, peering over the edge at the water below.
Faye and I stand shoulder to shoulder, watching him go.
“That went better than expected,” she murmurs. “He could’ve cried or run away or asked us to never speak again.”
“Instead, he got a mom, sleepovers, unlimited vacations, and called us weird.” I slide my arm around her waist. “Best-case scenario.”
She tips her head back to look at me. “Our kid is a smartass.”
The words land somewhere behind my ribs and lodge there permanently.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “He is.”
Faye cups my cheek, thumb brushing over my jaw. “You okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Because I’m more than okay.
I’m whole in a way I haven’t been since before Abigail left. Since before I learned what it meant to be abandoned.
But Faye didn’t leave. Despite every reason I gave her to run—the baggage, the complications, my stubborn temper—she stayed. She fought for me. For us.
And now she’s calling my son ours, making plans for vacations and sleepovers and a future I didn’t think I deserved.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too.”
I kiss her. Public and reckless and full of promises I intend to keep.
When we pull apart, Rhys is crouched at the edge of the dock, one hand trailing in the water.
“I found one!” he shouts. “It’s huge!”
Faye laughs and pulls away from me, moving toward him. “Let me see.”
I follow, slower, taking in the scene. The new dock stretching into the lake. The restored cottages behind us. My son and the woman I love, heads bent together as they watch a catfish dart through the shallows.
The past year taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn.
That some storms don’t destroy—they clear the ground for something better. And the real courage isn’t in weathering them alone. It’s in letting someone stand by your side while you rebuild.
I found that person: my rock, my love, my grounding force, the one I can always fall apart with and know she’ll help put me back together.
And I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life making sure she knows I’m the one she can lean on, in clear weather and through the toughest storms, so she never has to carry the hard days alone.
And so we get to enjoy all the good times coming our way.
And if I ever forget how lucky I am, she’ll spank the attitude right out of me.