Epilogue
AUNT MARGIE
Today felt magical.
And not just because of the snow-dusted trees or the ridiculous number of white roses Bear had shipped in from who-knows-where. It was her. Becca.
My niece.
My girl.
The same one who rolled into Pigeon Forge with her heart in pieces and somehow found something whole again.
In the arms of a man I wouldn’t have picked for her in a million years—but now couldn’t imagine her without.
Big, gruff, guarded Bear. Who treated her like treasure.
Who loved her like it cost him nothing and everything at once.
And now here they were. On this mountain. At Christmas. All our hearts full.
In that cabin that still smelled like pipe smoke and pine, that old place Bear’s granddaddy left behind.
They’d fixed it up some—Lord knows it needed it—but it still creaked in the same places and held on to the past in ways I respected.
Some things don’t need replacing. Some ghosts deserve to stay.
Becca understood that. She never tried to polish Bear into someone shinier. She just… loved him. Every scar, every shadow.
And I think that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to sign that prenup.
Becca wanted it—said she didn’t want his money, didn’t need anything but him.
But that man looked her in the eye, tossed the papers into the fire, and said, “You’re not putting a contract on our love.
” I still get goosebumps thinking about it.
I cried like a baby watching her walk down that aisle. All lace and snowflakes and joy. Bear stood there in his kutte—because of course he did—and it somehow worked. All of it worked. Jinx officiated, looking like a rockstar minister. Everyone cried. Even Stanley.
After the ceremony, they disappeared somewhere tropical, like a couple of honeymooning celebrities, came back a week later sun-drunk and happy.
Picked up their lives right where they left them, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Becca went back to the community center.
Bear back to the shop. Sunday pancakes and chipped mugs and the kind of life people dream of when they’re tired of pretending.
And now, a year later, we’re all back here. Lights going up again. That porch still holding us all like it was built for exactly this.
Stanley has a new lady friend—some tiny poodle named Sadie who’s entirely too fancy for him. Jinx and Caroline are still pretending they’re not a thing, which is laughable. I caught them behind the firewood last week, acting like a couple of teenagers.
Becca? She’s radiant. Sitting on the porch, rocking gently, one hand on her belly like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A baby on the way. Bear wrapped around her like a human security blanket, bringing her decaf and fussing over blankets like the woman might shatter. I’d laugh if it weren’t so damn sweet.
And me?
I still talk to Steve. Every morning. His picture’s on my dresser, right next to my earrings and that chipped ring dish he made me in a pottery class back in ‘91. I miss him like breathing. Some days it still hits hard—quiet moments, late nights, when the wind sounds just like his laugh. But I’m not lonely anymore.
McDaniel saw to that.
He didn’t come rushing in, didn’t try to fill Steve’s shoes. He just showed up. With his soft eyes and silver hair and Sunday roasts that tasted like something close to love. I didn’t plan on feeling anything like this again. I thought that part of me had gone quiet for good.
But he brought me back to life.
Not all at once. In warm hands. In stupid jokes. In how he calls me “sugar” when I’m mad and rubs my back when I pretend I’m not tired. And, Lord help me, in his bed—where I feel sixteen again. Seen. Still a woman, not just a widow with a good memory and better compression hose.
Emma teases me like it’s her job. Called me a cougar last week and I nearly tossed a biscuit at her head.
But she’s happy for me. And my sister in law, Judy, Becca’s mom?
She’s too busy playing footsie with her newest boyfriend, Jefferson to care what I’m up to.
He’s a retired dentist who talks about his boat more than anyone asked for, but he’s kind to her. That’s all I need to know.
This mountain’s seen a lot of life. A lot of loss, too. But right now? With stars above, snow underfoot, and love pouring out of every doorway and window?
It feels like home again.
And on this mountain, in the heart of December, under a sky full of stars and string lights, I knew one thing for sure:
Becca finally made it home.
And Bear?
He found peace.
Wrapped in a woman’s love, a baby on the way, and a future he never saw coming.
Hell of a Christmas, if you ask me.