Epilogue
Cash
The next couple of months were a montage of snuggling on the tour bus, kissing till our lips were sore, savoring every minute of just being a couple.
Charlie was wrong. There wasn’t a single moment that made me doubt my love for her or wish I was with someone more famous. She grounded me and kept me sane amid complete chaos. But mostly, I felt what in my heart I’d always known…Charlie was home. And every second we were together, I became more sure of that truth.
So at the last show of the tour, right after our “Hard to Love You/Hard to Leave You” mashup, I proposed right there, dropping to one knee in front of her. When she looked down into my eyes and whispered a breathy but confident, ‘yes,’ she made all my childhood dreams come true.
Then, the montage began again—Setting up appointments for her to get more skin grafts, followed by engagement photos, figuring out a living situation, and making up the guest list—all hurling us with lightning speed toward a spring wedding.
It couldn’t come fast enough for me, but we were finally here.
My hands rested on her hips, tracing the delicate pearls stitched into her dress. We were in the center of the parquet dance floor my parents had set up in the backyard. I looked at her…and forgot how to breathe. Glitter shimmered on her cheeks, something smoky around her eyes. I’d never seen her look more beautiful.
A video played on a loop on a large movie screen, with pictures of Charlie and me from childhood all the way till now, including snippets of the Netflix documentary—an instant hit, by the way.
Charlie smiled off to her right, still teary-eyed from the surprise that my parents had flown in for her. Mike Riley—the cop who’d found her in L.A. and set her on the path toward coming home—held a glass of Martinelli’s up in a toast. His wife did the same next to him. Charlie blew them a kiss.
“I think I owe that man my life,” I murmured, mouth to her ear. “Do you think he’ll take naming our firstborn after him as payment. Johnny Michael Dupree Squared. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Over my dead body.” She chortled and pulled me in for a kiss.
Bowen was the DJ for the evening, a hobby he’d gotten into recently. He nodded at us and said into his headset, “Y’all ever seen two best friends fall in love and make it look this good?” Our guests shouted that they hadn’t.
Except for Uncle Silas. “Yes! Clem and I did it better.”
“What’re you talking about? He said best friends,” Aunt Lemon bellowed from behind the table where she refilled the tray of Chick-fil-A nuggets. “You left for a decade and wouldn’t answer my texts or calls.”
“Because you married someone else,” Uncle Silas retorted.
“Exactly.” She laughed. “We were not best friends.”
“Just like Cash and Charlie,” Silas thrust his hands at us. “ She married someone else.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Charlie purred. “I’ll make it up to you momentarily.” Then she giggled. “Your cheeks.”
They were burning.
Aunt Lemon crossed her arms, lips pursed at Silas. “A decade, Si. Ten. Years. They beat us by a mile.”
He shook his head. “You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?”
“Just like you won’t let me forget you’re my second husband.”
“Love being reminded of that,” Griffin muttered someone on the dance floor.
“And on that note, we’re going to bring it back to the happy couple.” Bowen winked at us. “This one’s for you.”
“What Could Go Right” by Thomas Rhett flowed through the speakers.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” I hooked my arms around Charlie’s waist and lifted her off her feet in a twirl.
She tossed her head back and laughed, so happy.
When I set her down, her hands slid up my neck. The gold from her wedding ring was cool against my skin. “Thank you for being a good sport,” she said. “I know this isn’t the wedding you wanted.”
I snorted. “You got that right.”
She scoffed and slapped me on the lapel of my tux. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.”
I crouched down, gazing into her eyes. “I wanted to run to the courthouse six months ago. That’s the wedding I wanted.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “But I love this wedding too. I’d love any wedding, anywhere, as long as it made you my wife.” Then I pressed my lips to her brow. “And it did, Mrs. Dupree-Dupree.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Stop trying to make Dupree-Squared happen.”
I chuckled at her Mean Girls reference. “Never.”
She slipped her fingers into my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. “Actually…” she murmured. “You can have…” More kissing. “Whatever you want…” And a little more. “Since it’s my fault we’re trailer trash now.”
“Hmm.” I gave her lip a nibble. “Camper trash, technically.”
Yup. With the leftover money from Netflix, we’d picked up a used RV to live in. Nothing fancy, but it’d get us through till we could save up for that house we wanted. When Mom caught wind, she convinced Dad to pause their “Pay For Your Own Life So You Don’t Grow Up Entitled” policy and offered us a generous chunk of our inheritance early. Tempting, but nah—we wanted to earn it ourselves.
Luckily, fate smiled on us pretty quickly.
When Opal and Ivy approached Charlie at my first tour stop, offering the influencer deal Millie had coveted, it was too good to turn down. A free engagement ring with matching bands, wedding expenses covered, and a hefty lump sum that was going straight into the bank for a down payment on our future home? You better believe we said yes.
Opal and Ivy was easy to work with, but they made us earn that money. Not only had they capitalized on our center-stage engagement, but we’d spent months in preparation, and the past week filming all day, every day.
Zara Quinn flounced toward us like a woman on a runway, clipboard in one hand, a tube of lip gloss in the other. “Okay, you two, this is the final shot and then we’ll be more gone than your single status.”
She paused in front of me, gave me a once-over, and clutched her chest like she might faint. “For the love, Cash, do you even know what you’re doing to America right now? I swear, if I didn’t respect monogamy so much—and you weren’t so desperately in love with your wife—I’d climb you like a tree.”
Charlie laughed so hard, I thought her pearl buttons might pop. I just smiled, used to it by now. Zara had been like this all week while we’d filmed—dramatic, over-caffeinated, and high-key obsessed with my biceps. Which was funny since today at least, they were hidden beneath a suit jacket.
“All right, our little money maker,” Zara said to Charlie. “Let’s get that last ring shot. Just lay your hand right there.” She pointed to my arm. “No, higher. Higher, babe. Yes. Wrap those French tips around that bicep like you’ll claw out the eyes of any woman who even thinks of trying to steal him.”
Charlie snickered as she adjusted. Zara nearly squealed…at Charlie’s hand on my arm. It didn’t take much with this woman.
“Oh, it’s perfect,” she breathed. “You two are disgusting and I love it. I need you on every billboard we own. Just promise me babies. Lots of babies. I need to know those genes are going somewhere.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You trying to sign our unborn kids, too?”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said, pointing her gloss at me like a weapon. “I already have their headshots imagined. Those eyes.” She pointed at mine. “And her lips and cheekbones. Beautiful babies,” she said, like they were already born. “Now smile like you just realized you married a goddess—and she married a walking jawline. Mm-mm-mm,” she clucked. “Brilliant, choosing the blue diamond.” She waved her hand at the lake down the hill where we’d exchanged vows on the white sand Mom had delivered just for the occasion. “With the water as a backdrop. Could not have planned that better.”
Granny disagreed. When she saw the ring, she shook her head like we’d lost our minds. “Christy got sapphires, Peyton a pink diamond, and now this? What has this world come to?” she said, like Charlie sporting a light blue stone might keep us out of heaven.
Charlie smiled up at me, her reasons burning in her eyes. The blue was for water, obviously. For Hawaii and the kiss in Anna and Blue’s pool. But mostly, for the lake where we’d begun stripping ourselves bare. That was the beginning of the good stuff. The beginning of our forever.
A half-hour later, Mom waved us over toward the guests lining up to get a sparkler.
“You ready for this?” Charlie asked, bright-eyed.
“Mhmm.” I gulped.
Her head tipped to the side. “Are you nervous?”
Felt like I was going to vomit, but I shrugged coolly. “Are you kidding?” I made my brows bounce. “This is what I’ve been waiting for since I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen, huh? Got that head in the gutter early.”
“It’s called puberty. It just happens. Especially when your crush is running around in a bikini, teasing you at every turn.”
“Strategic flirting. That’s what that was.”
“Sure,” I said with a grin. “You keep telling yourself that.”
She clicked her tongue. “Hey. It worked. I got my guy.”
I stared into her eyes. “And I got my girl.”
“Yes, you did,” she murmured, reaching for my hand. “And you’re about to get all of me.”
“Yes!” I thrust my fists to the sky, making her laugh some more. But I was actually nervous about how I was going to undo all the buttons on the back of her dress. There were over a hundred. Of course, I didn’t need to undo all of them, just enough to slide that baby off. But still.
We made our way to the beginning of the sparkler corridor, hand in hand, giving each other amused sideways glances along the way.
“Hold on,” Aunt Tally put a hand out to stop us. Correction: my mother-in-law, Tally. That was going to take a minute. “We’re having some technical difficulties.”
The light, airy orchestral music Bowen had going screeched to a stop. Literally. It sounded like someone scratching the needle of a record player across vinyl. Then the Black-Eyed Peas blared loud enough that Charlie jumped as “I Gotta Feeling” filled the speakers. Everyone knew what that meant—tonight was going to be a good night.
Laughter erupted from the group.
“Oh, wait,” Bowen said. “Sorry, that’s not right.”
Next, “Body Like a Backroad” by Sam Hunt erupted.
“Wow.” My jaw jutted and Charlie belly-laughed.
Theo, Griffin, James, and Liam were rolling.
“Just wait, fellas,” I called. “He’s coming for you next.”
“Oh, he will not be DJing our wedding,” James chuckled, an arm around Sage’s shoulder.
“Almost there,” Bowen said into the mic.
So of course, Marvin Gaye started serenading us with “Let’s Get It On.”
“Bowen!” Aunt Lemon shouted, fighting a laugh. “Let them get on with their night.”
He held his hands up. “Just setting the mood.” He patted down protests from at least five people whining about how their sparklers were about to burn out. “All right. All right. This is the jam right here. The big send off.” He paused and everything went quiet. “You guys ready?”
“We’ve been ready!” I yelled.
“Since he was thirteen!” Liam shouted.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bowen boomed. “The new Mr. and Mrs—headed off to test the suspension on that camper of theirs.”
When Tim McGraw and Faith Hill started singing, “Let’s Make Love,” Charlie’d had enough.
Still holding my hand, she flung our arms in the air and shouted, “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We love you all. Good night!” Then she dragged me forward so fast, I tripped over my feet to catch up.
We jogged through the golden tunnel, as guests shouted their well-wishes. Thankfully, the onlookers ended halfway down the hill. But we kept going, jogging faster. Somewhere along the way, Charlie’s shoes had come off.
I don’t know how, but she just spotted it . Her eyes got huge and she glanced over at me, bounding down the hill. “What is this?”
“Did you think I was going to row you over to our humble abode in a dinghy?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
When we reached the dock, she whooped as I scooped her up in my arms. We didn’t have time to dig splinters out of her toes tonight.
The pontoon swayed gently in the water, lit from within by warm string lights looping along the canopy frame. Sheer curtains fluttered at the sides, catching the breeze like sails, and in the center, a mattress waited—pillows piled high, a soft blanket folded at the foot.
Charlie gazed at it, then at me, her mouth falling open. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“We can’t tell our kids we spent our honeymoon night in a second-hand camper. Besides…” I shrugged one shoulder. “I figured this had better lakefront views. If we get cold, we can always pull up to our landing and head up to the RV.” The dock creaked under my feet. As I carefully stepped onto the boat, I prayed she wouldn’t feel my shaking hands. Then I set her on her feet. “Y-you sit on the bed and I’ll steer us out.” I needed a minute.
But she didn’t. She turned to face me and moved in closer, holding my gaze. Her palms met mine, warm and soft. Our fingers intertwined. “Why are you nervous, Cash? It’s just me.”
“Just you?” I swallowed. “That’s why I’m nervous. You’re…everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“And now you’ve got me.”
“I do. And I’m not sure what to do.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I mean, I am. Obviously, I know what to do.” I gulped. “I just…I don’t know as much as you know.”
She nodded, and in that moment, everything slowed. There was intense love in her eyes and no pressure. Just excitement. She wasn’t expecting me to be anything but me. “Whatever it is you think I know…” She placed my hands low on her hips. “I don’t. This…” Her lips brushed over mine, soft and deliberate. Everything inside me tilted. “This is going to be wholly different.” Her tongue traced my bottom lip, and my heart kicked. “So much better,” she added, like it was a promise. Her hands slipped under my shirt, fingers gliding over my stomach, and I felt every inch of it. Every nerve awake. “We’ll figure it out.” She undid the button on my pants. “Together.”
I nodded, forehead to hers. “Together.”