Epilogue
PIPER
Colorful bouquets grace every table beneath the white tent, and I catch myself pressing a hand to my chest as if I can hold onto this moment.
Two weeks ago, Felix surprised both of us with his proposal in a sterile hospital room.
Tonight we were married surrounded by our siblings, friends, and Molly’s fields of wildflowers, which feels exactly right for what we’re building together.
The ceremony was simple. My sister cried while Ian subtly swiped at his cheeks, pretending he wasn’t misty-eyed.
Ellie threw flower petals with the enthusiasm of a botanical firecracker.
And Hopper—the three-legged rescue mutt Ellie calls Hoppy—watched from his spot next to Felix under the arbor like the dignified gentleman he pretends to be when he’s not stealing socks from the laundry basket.
Now the intimate reception is in full swing, string lights twinkling overhead as the summer sun dips toward the mountains.
Although Felix and I wanted something casual, my sister and our book club friends insisted that the evening also needed to be special.
Someone—probably Sloane—connected a speaker to a playlist that’s heavy on country love songs and light on anything that requires actual coordination.
“Mrs. Barlowe.” Felix’s voice is warm against my ear as he takes my hand and pulls me toward him. “Dance with me.”
“I’m not sure my feet can handle another round.” I wince and then smile up at him. “Heels were a mistake.”
“Let me help free your poor, beautiful toes,” he says and drops to his knees, lifting each of my feet to slide off one shoe and then the other, tossing them into the grass.
I sigh in relief, then laugh at the whoops and whistles his behavior elicits from Eric and Chase on the far side of the tent. “I think you just like me barefoot and pregnant,” I tease as he stands and slides his arms around me.
“I like you full stop, wife,” he clarifies as my new husband cups my cheek with one hand and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.
Husband.
The word sends a flutter through my chest every time I think it. His dark hair is mussed from Ellie’s hands after she demanded to take part in our first dance as a family perched on Felix’s shoulders.
“I got that vibe,” I tell him, smoothing down a particularly wild lock, “since most grooms wait longer than two weeks to drag their brides to the altar.”
“Most grooms don’t have a season starting at the end of the month.” His palm splays across my lower back, warm through the lace of my dress. “Besides, I seem to recall someone being pretty enthusiastic about the timeline.”
“I was delirious with post-proposal euphoria on top of pregnancy hormones.”
“Well, I’m just straight up happy.” His voice drops, soft and certain. “And I don’t think I’m alone in that.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.”
His smile lights up something behind his eyes that I’ve come to recognize as purely Felix—the golden retriever heart that keeps showing up no matter how many times life has kicked at him. “Good. Because I have plans, Hart. Big ones.”
“It’s Barlowe now, technically.”
“You’ll always be Hart to me.” He pulls me closer, and I rest my cheek against his chest, breathing in the woodsy scent of his soap mixed with the cooling air of evening. “My stubborn, beautiful, takes-no-shit Hart who holds mine in the palm of her hand.”
Across the dance floor, I watch our friends and family also enjoying our celebration.
Sadie—the other Mrs. Barlowe—with her head thrown back, laughing at something Ian just whispered into her ear, while Molly leans into Chase near the cake table.
Riva is trying to teach Molly’s twins, plus Iris and Jake, an elaborate dance routine that has Taylor and Eric grinning widely as they cheer on the group.
Avah catches my eye and raises her champagne glass in a toast, Jonathan’s arm draped stiffly around her shoulders.
I do not like that guy, but every time I voice my concerns to Avah, she brushes them aside.
Their elopement is happening before the end of summer, and I’m not giving up.
But tonight is about being happy. And speaking of happy…
I smile at Ellie, who’s sitting at the edge of the dance floor, legs splayed wide, Hopper sprawled at her feet. Her flower girl dress is streaked with icing, and her wispy curls escape the careful work Sadie did this morning. She’s chattering to the dog like he’s her most trusted confidant.
My heart expands until it feels too big for my chest, pressing against my ribs like it’s trying to make room for everyone I love. I’m kind of getting used to the sensation, and I definitely like it.
“I got a call from the landscape company earlier,” Felix murmurs against my hair. “They’re installing the sandbox and playset on Monday.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I might have gone overboard with the slide situation.”
“How overboard?”
“There are three of them, all at different heights, which I think is for developmental purposes.”
“Developmental purposes.” A laugh bubbles up from deep in my chest. “Nice.”
“Also, the nursery wallpaper samples arrived. I narrowed it down to seventeen options.”
“Seventeen?”
“Down from thirty-three. I’m showing restraint.”
I pull back to look at him, this man who declared last Christmas that he didn’t want children and now has nursery wallpaper samples and sandboxes and a whole heart full of love he’s been waiting his entire life to give.
The bump is barely visible under my flowing white dress, but his hand finds it anyway, palm warm and protective over the life we created. “How do you feel?” The teasing fades from his voice, and awareness shoots up my spine at the tenderness that replaces it. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a perfect day, and I feel good.” I mean it. The cramping and bleeding that sent me to the hospital were scary, but my most recent doctor’s visit confirmed that our baby is healthy and strong, growing exactly as they should be. “I feel perfect, actually.”
“Fee! Pipey!” Ellie’s voice carries across the dance floor, and we both turn to see her running toward us, Hopper hobbling along behind her on his three legs. “We dance!”
Felix scoops her up in one smooth motion, settling her on his hip while keeping his other arm around me.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, loving how she smells like vanilla frosting and the lavender soap I used for her bath this morning.
Her small hand pats my cheek, then Felix’s, as if confirming we’re both real and here and hers.
“Ellie dance,” she announces. “Hoppy, too.”
“Hoppy’s a great dancer,” Felix tells her with a grin as the dog circles our feet.
The three of us—four, counting the baby—sway together as the sun finally slips behind the mountains and the string lights take over.
Ellie rests her head on Felix’s shoulder, her eyes heavy with the exhaustion of a toddler who’s had the best day of her short life.
Felix presses a kiss to her temple, then turns to brush his lips against mine.
“I love you,” he says, quiet enough that only I can hear. “All of you. More than football, more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life.”
“Even more than your sourdough starter?”
“Don’t push it, Hart.”
Laughter catches in my throat as emotion wells up.
At the start of all this, I was terrified of needing anyone, convinced that being strong meant standing alone.
I was certain that if I let Felix in, I’d be setting myself up for the kind of hurt I’d felt when Bradley shattered everything I thought I wanted.
Real strength, I’ve learned, is trusting someone with your whole messy heart and believing they’ll hold it carefully.
It’s swaying on a dance floor with a sleepy toddler and a three-legged dog, and building a life with the mountain of a man who sees the sharp edges I use to protect myself and loves me anyway.
Felix softens those edges, and maybe even loves me more because of them.
In a few days, we’ll move into the Denver house that’s become ours instead of just his.
I helped choose the living room furniture and the artwork for the walls.
We’ve already filled Ellie’s room with books and toys and the kind of chaos that comes with a two-year-old who knows she’s loved.
I don’t know yet what I’ll do about work—whether I’ll go back to nursing or try something new—but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel like failure. It feels like possibility.
We might argue about wallpaper patterns and which takeout place is best. Felix will probably buy a whole bunch more stuff we don’t need for the baby, and I’ll pretend to be annoyed while secretly loving every ridiculous purchase.
We’ll have hard days and sleepless nights and moments where we wonder what the hell we’re doing.
But we’re also going to be happy, even when it’s messy and imperfect and nothing like what either of us planned.
Ellie’s eyes have drifted shut, her breathing slow and steady against Felix’s neck.
Another slow ballad plays as the reception continues around us.
There’s laughter and conversation and the clink of glasses raised in celebration.
Sadie catches my eye across the dance floor.
She mouths “I love you,” and I mouth it back, grateful beyond words for the sister who raised me.
Who gave me roots and wings and the courage to find my way here.
Felix pulls me closer, our daughter tucked between us, and I let myself sink into this moment. He’s my husband, and this is our family. It’s the life we’re choosing, one imperfect day at a time.
“Hey, Barlowe?” I whisper.
“Yeah, Hart?”
“I’m really glad you’re my person.”
His smile is brilliant and beautiful and aimed directly at me, the same way it was the day he crashed a wedding to make sure I didn’t have to face it alone. “Back at you, sweetheart. Right back at you.”
I hope you enjoyed Piper & Felix.