Epilogue
Two months later
Rowan
Dragonfly Lake in the springtime was stunning as promised.
With my husband by my side, I breathed in a full, fragrant breath of the May evening and marveled that this was my life now.
Rusty Anchor’s beer patio, bordered by lush, colorful flowers on two sides and a vista of the lake on the third, was the ideal venue for our gender reveal party.
We’d closed it to the public for the duration, allowing our thirty-ish guests plenty of space to eat, drink, spread out, and enjoy the view before it got dark.
“This is beautiful,” I said to Chance, whose arm was around me as we mingled with our friends.
We were minutes from sunset. The colors cast over the water ranged from gold and coral to a deep, dusky grayish plum. A bank of clouds in the distance increased the sky’s drama without threatening our perfect spring weather.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in my ear.
Even though we were surrounded by our friends, his intimate declaration awakened a physical desire deep inside me I knew I’d be quenching later tonight.
I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, a grin on my own.
The joy I felt in my soul made it impossible not to smile, laugh, love, not only my handsome husband but all the people who’d joined us this evening.
It was hard to remember how depleted and overcome with sadness I’d been when I’d happened into this little town five months ago.
I’d lost everything then, and somehow I’d lucked into a life overflowing with friends and goodness and love.
In addition to Chloe, I’d gotten to know several of her friends, plus the dads in Chance’s group, and the wives and fiancées of Knox, Ben, and Max.
They were all with us tonight, as were Sam and her friend Kinsley, Loretta, Kemp, and the rest of the brewery employees.
Magnolia from the Lily Pad had volunteered to help me plan the details, from the silver, pink, and blue balloons and centerpieces to the guess-the-gender board and the suggest-a-name station.
Chance and I stood in a cluster with Chloe, Magnolia, Emerson, Loretta, Olivia, and Anna.
“This looks fantastic,” Emerson said as she bent over one of the tables to sniff the flowers in the middle.
“Magnolia deserves all the credit,” I said.
“Aww, thank you,” Magnolia said. “I had fun with it.”
“I keep telling her she needs to make a business of her party-planning skills,” Chloe said, nudging Magnolia’s side.
“You really should consider it, dear,” Loretta said.
“In my spare time between the Lily Pad and the inn,” Magnolia said, laughing.
“You’re good at event planning,” Chance told her.
Luke and West arrived, and my husband excused himself to greet them.
We’d been married for three weeks. I was still pinching myself at my good fortune or fate or whatever deserved the credit for guiding me to that man.
He was so exactly what I hadn’t even known I needed.
Forever supportive, full of love, humor, and common sense, and so damn irresistible.
I knew pregnancy hormones could enhance a girl’s sex drive, but I wasn’t convinced those were to blame for how much I craved him.
Our wedding had been an intimate gathering of just over a dozen of our closest friends, everyone except Presley, who’d been too sick to get out of bed.
We’d exchanged vows on the terrace of the Honeysuckle Inn, the exact one we’d discussed the first night we’d met.
If you’d told me on New Year’s Eve I’d be marrying Chance a few months later in that spot, I would’ve laughed hysterically and told you to shut up.
Afterward, our group enjoyed a private dinner party at the Marks Resort, prepared by The Cove’s chef, Nola Simms, and her staff.
We’d made the decision to branch out from Henry’s with the good-natured blessing of both Holden and Cash, who were on our short guest list. I could understand why Nola and Cash had both received national recognition for their chef skills.
Our wedding dinner had been unforgettable.
Though Chance had invited his parents and brother to the wedding, none of them had bothered to show up, claiming four weeks wasn’t enough notice.
Chance had shrugged it off and declared it their loss.
He’d told me Sam and I were what true family felt like, not the cold, self-centered jerks who’d raised him.
I agreed. Those people, who I had yet to meet, didn’t deserve to have him in their lives.
“You look gorgeous, Rowan,” Quincy, Knox’s wife, said as she came up and hugged me.
“No, you do,” I said, grinning as I checked out her short, flouncy tangerine dress with boots. “I look like a plump blueberry.”
Her smile was sad at the edges. “I’d give just about anything to look like a plump blueberry.”
“You will,” I told her.
“You absolutely will,” Chloe said.
It was no secret Quincy and Knox had been trying to get pregnant. My heart went out to them. It must seem so brutally unfair that they could want a baby so badly and not be blessed with a pregnancy, and then someone like me comes along and gets pregnant after one chance meeting.
I squeezed her hand and tried to convey my empathy without drawing more attention to her.
Just then, Presley came bustling onto the patio from the parking lot, looking classy and sexy at once in a short, silver dress, thigh-high black boots, and a black cropped jacket.
“About time you got here,” Chloe called to her.
“Hey, Presley,” Olivia, the baker of the gender reveal cake, said. “Welcome.”
“You look stunning,” I said as she approached us.
“Thanks, Rowan. I’m sorry I’m late.” Presley hugged me, then Chloe and the other girls in our cluster.
“There’s no late,” I assured her. “The food is about to be served, and we’ve got plenty of drinks, so help yourself.”
“Yes to the drinks,” Presley said. “I just quit my job on the spot.”
I whipped my head to her to see if I’d heard her right. “You quit? Really?”
“Escorted off the premises and everything,” she said almost flippantly.
There was a collective gasp, then Chloe said, “Well, good riddance.”
Presley said, “Amen.”
“What happened to make you quit?” Anna asked.
“I’ll get you a cocktail. Would you like a Blue Bayou or a Watermelon Mojito?” Quincy asked, naming our themed blue and pink drinks for the evening, also Magnolia’s idea.
“One of each,” Presley answered, making us laugh.
“I got you,” Quincy said.
“You seriously just quit?” Olivia asked Presley.
“She’s needed to for a while,” Chloe said. “Her boss is a douche wagon.”
“She speaks the truth,” Presley said. “But I didn’t intend to waltz in here and steal the show. How’s our resident pregnant lady?”
“I’m good even without the pretty cocktails,” I said, laughing.
“This girl definitely has that newlywed glow about her,” Anna said.
“That on top of the pregnancy glow…” Presley said. “You really do look alive and happy.”
“I am,” I assured her. “I’m truly blessed. And dying to know about your job.”
“Ex job,” Presley said. “So one of the partners is retiring. I told the douche wagon I was interested in going for partner. He told me not to bother, that I wouldn’t get it.
I considered my options on the spot—prove him wrong and get the position, or get that worm out of my life for good.
He was so smug and self-satisfied and privileged white male, so…
I told him what he could do with the job. ”
Quincy handed her a Blue Bayou.
“Thank you,” Presley said, then closed her eyes and savored her first sip. “Walking out of that place with my box of belongings? Best. Feeling. Ever.”
“You go, girl,” Olivia said.
“Wow,” Magnolia said. “Brave woman.”
Presley waved it off. “Happy woman. Screw him. I decided on the drive here I’m moving to my lake house as soon as possible.”
“Awesome,” I said, meaning it. “You’ll love it here.”
Chloe laughed and shook her head. “It’s almost like you planned it.”
“Not consciously, but everything’s working out,” Presley said.
The servers from Henry’s indicated that the food—an assortment of heavy appetizers—was ready. Holden took charge of encouraging our guests to fill their plates.
As people made their way toward the long table of food, Presley grabbed my arm and Chloe’s and said under her breath, “Who is that?”
Chloe and I followed her gaze to the group of men standing near the bar.
“With the beard?” Chloe said.
Presley’s reply was an affirmative growl.
“Down, girl,” I said.
“Is he taken?” Presley asked.
“It’s West Aldridge,” Chloe said quietly. “Not taken as far as I know.”
“Very single,” I affirmed, as Chance had told me how anti-relationship West was after his last breakup broke his daughters’ hearts.
The rest of the group meandered toward the food table, so the three of us gathered closer together.
“He’s so not your type, Pres,” Chloe said.
“I don’t have a type. I rarely take time for guys, as you well know,” Presley said. “But suddenly I’m feeling footloose and fancy free.”
“Danger,” I said with emphasis. “That feeling’s exactly what got me like this.” I pointed at my round belly.
Presley frowned at my middle. “It seems like it worked out for you, but I do not want an insta-family. He’s just…” She shook her head, her gaze back on West.
“He’s a contractor for Levi Dawson’s construction company,” Chloe said.
“Levi. I met him at your wedding reception, right?” Presley asked her, sipping her drink, looking nonchalant even as her eyes didn’t leave West.
“Probably?” Chloe said. “I didn’t take notes. I was kind of busy that night.”
“Telling your new husband you were with child, if I remember right,” Presley said.
“I don’t know whether this will attract or repel you,” I said, “but West is very dedicated to his little girls. And against any kind of relationship.”
Presley looked thoughtful but didn’t say anything.
“Your type,” Chloe said, “is tall, thin, bordering on metrosexual, and brainy. The more expensive the suit he’s wearing, the better.”