Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER…
Silas
I let myself into Take a Hike—the bells chiming my arrival.
Behind the counter, Branson—now sporting a much shorter haircut—flashed me a thumbs up and a grin.
That hairstyle would have saved us a lot of trouble when I first met the twins because Bryson had kept his messy waves, making the guys much easier to tell apart.
I wiped my clammy palms on the side of my jeans, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. For one year, I’d had the most amazing relationship of my life. Bryson was every bit as sweet, funny, and sincere as he’d appeared on our very first date.
Tonight, I’d insisted he let me make the anniversary plans—and since I was the wedding planner, he hadn’t argued. Bryson was thoughtful enough to create a magical date for our very first time going out—when I was a virtual stranger. So, I had big shoes to fill tonight—wedding planner or not.
His laughter drifted out from the fishing aisle. I made my way that direction, catching sight of him laughing with the hunky Wes Monroe. Luckily, Wes was happily married—to his stepbrother, Beckett, but hey, love was love—so I didn’t have to let my green monster out of its cage.
Bryson glanced up, eyes catching mine.
“Hey, darlin’. I’m just helping Wes pick out a new rod before he visits his cousin Fisher in Swallow Cove.”
Wes turned, giving me a sheepish grin. “I’m trying to look like I know what I’m doing for a change. Fisher always makes fun of me and Beck for being such tourists.”
I smiled. “That’s out in the Ozarks?”
“Yeah. You should check it out sometime. Maybe you’ll want to take a romantic getaway? There’s a gorgeous resort out there or a B&B if you want privacy. Fisher has all the hookups.”
Bryson chuckled. “I don’t know if the Ozarks is Silas’s style.”
I smiled enigmatically. Something told me it would be exactly Bryson’s style, and after all the time and love and patience he’d given me, I’d happily watch him fish in a lake.
“Just don’t ask me to touch any worms.” I paused. “Except yours.”
Wes snorted. “You got yourself a good one, Bry.”
Bryson grinned. “I know it. And I’m currently delaying our anniversary date to talk fishing rods.” He winced. “Bad move, right?”
Wes laughed. “Oh, yeah, man. Silas must be a freaking saint to be smiling right now.”
I shrugged. “Bryson has waited on me plenty. I don’t mind.”
Branson stepped into the aisle. “How about I take over here and you two take off?” he suggested.
Bryson looked relieved. “Thanks, man. Big date tonight.” He glanced at me. “I think? Silas is being cagey about it.”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you what to expect.”
“It doesn’t have to be a surprise,” he grumbled as we broke away from Wes and Branson. “You could tell me what to expect.”
“Nope. You didn’t do that on our first date, as I recall.”
“Oh, sure, hold that against me,” he joked. “I didn’t know you then. You weren’t my devoted boyfriend.”
“True.”
“So, you’ll tell me?”
“Nope!” I grinned and tossed him the keys. “But you can drive.”
“How will I know where to go?” he countered.
“I’ll guide you, baby. Don’t you trust me?”
He shivered a little, probably remembering last night and the intense sex we’d had when I’d said something similar before binding his wrists to the bed, blindfolding him, and torturing every inch of his body with kisses, nibbles, and licks before climbing onto his dick and riding him to a screaming climax.
He was the one screaming.
Seeing him let go and just enjoy was amazing. Bryson always took such care with me. He paid attention to my face, listened to my body, understood my needs before even I did—and not just with sex.
This weekend was all about showing him that I was just as devoted.
Bryson unlocked his pickup, and I opened the passenger door and hopped in.
“Which way?” he asked. “Or should I go home and change first?”
I eyed his casual jeans and T-shirt with the Take a Hike logo, jean jacket thrown over top. “No, this is perfect. Just head toward Eucalyptus and turn left.”
“Okay…”
I directed him turn by turn until we were on the highway.
“Huh,” he said.
“What?”
“This route seems familiar.”
“Does it?” I asked innocently.
When we approached the turn onto the dirt road, he chuckled. “Turn here, right?”
“Oh, you have me all figured out. Go ahead.”
He took the turn and drove until it ended in nothing but fields. He pulled to the side. “I believe we walk from here?”
We got out of the truck, and Bryson reached for my hand, lacing our fingers. “Re-creating our first date. That’s very sweet.”
I smiled at him. “Well, you did charm me right out of my pants that night.”
He laughed. “I think keeping you in your pants would have been the real feat.”
I swatted his stomach, and he caught my wrist and tugged me into a kiss. “I couldn’t stop thinking about these lush lips all night.”
I slid my arms around his neck, just feeling the weight and warmth of him against me. I was tempted to cut the night short and drop to my knees there and then, but I resisted.
I nuzzled his nose. “That first date changed my life, Bryson. You showed me a guy that I didn’t think existed.”
“So did you,” he said, studying my face. “You swept me off my feet.”
I tugged the curls at the back of his neck. “Stop stealing my lines.”
He grinned. “Sorry. You make me a romantic sap. Can’t help it.”
I pulled away. “Come on. I do still have a few surprises in store.”
“Oh? Well, lead the way.”
We walked along a path through the fields until we came upon a pond. The sunshine swept over it, setting off dancing sparkles.
A small, wrought-iron table for two was set up with china and silverware—same as the night Bryson had brought me here for our first date. But there were a few key differences.
Behind the table was an arbor covered in white roses. Bryson cocked his head. “That wasn’t there before.”
“Well, I had to add a little extra pizazz.”
He neared the table, gazing down at platters covered with silver dome covers. “This isn’t exactly take-out from The Stag Pub either, is it?”
“Noel Grisold helped me out with a special catered meal.”
“The wedding planner strikes again,” he said with a grin.
“Take a seat,” I said, heart hammering.
My stomach tightened with nerves, and I wasn’t sure I could eat, but I wanted Bryson to experience a full date—complete with Noel’s mouth-watering creations.
“Okay, but first…” Bryson walked over to the arbor and plucked a rose free. He approached me and sank to one knee.
“Don’t you dare propose!” I exclaimed.
His eyes widened. “It’s just a rose.”
“Oh. Well.” I sank to one knee and reached into my pocket. “This isn’t.”
I withdrew the ring box and popped it open to reveal a thick titanium band set with a black carbon center and beveled edges. It was masculine, simple, practical—but gorgeous. Everything Bryson was, too.
“Silas, is that…”
“You’ve become everything to me, Bryson. You’re my heart and my compass and my gravity. You have given me the space to love again. I was lost, but you helped me find my way. And every day, you hold me, I know that I’m real and here, grounded in love and trust.”
Bryson’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “You make me sound pretty great.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you are. That’s why I want you to marry me. Bryson, will you be my husband?”
He didn’t say yes. Just leaned forward to tuck the rose into my breast pocket. My heart raced, and I ceased to breathe as I waited for his answer.
He cupped my face and kissed me long and sweet, then pressed his forehead to mine.
“Put a ring on me, darlin’. I’m yours.”
I laughed, tears coming to my eyes. I hadn’t expected him to say no, but damn, the deep love I had for him surged to the surface and damn near overwhelmed me.
If Bryson had been a different man, a less patient man, I might not have this right now. I slid the ring onto his finger, my hands trembling, and kissed it.
He squeezed my hands. “You’re shaking. Are you sure you’re ready?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I’ve never been so ready.”
He held me close, breathing me in. “I didn’t see this coming at all. That was a hell of a surprise you pulled off.”
I smiled. “Well, I had help.”
Bryson got to his feet and helped me up, then glanced over at the exquisite meal set on the table. “Did Branson know?”
“Of course,” I said. “I had to threaten bodily injury to keep him and Caitlyn away. I wanted this to be just us. But if you want to celebrate with them…”
“Another time.” He pulled out a chair and waved me into it. “Tonight, I just want to enjoy being your fiancé.”
I bit my lip, joy bubbling up from inside, as Bryson took a seat across from me and reached for my hand, his ring gleaming in the sunlight.
“I want us to get married here,” I blurted. “I already talked to Sam.”
He brightened. “Really? You wouldn’t prefer the church and the hotel? That’s more your style.”
I shook my head. “We’ve got natural beauty here. That’s your style.”
“Well, it’s not all about me.”
I lifted the silver dome off his plate, revealing a gorgeous steak braised in garlic sauce, mashed potatoes, and asparagus spears.
“Oh, damn. This meal is all about me though,” he said. “This looks amazing.”
I removed the covering of my own dish, chicken marsala over a bed of pasta. For once, I was indulging in all the carbs I wanted.
“One table, two different dishes that fit each of us,” I said. “Marriage is about a meeting of hearts, right? I want us to have a wedding that fits us both. We can have it outdoors. Embrace your country boy side. Leave it to me to make it the most elegant outdoor wedding you’ve ever seen.”
He smiled. “Well, you are the wedding planner. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”
I squeezed his fingers. “Just as long as you plan it with me.”
With Michael, I’d planned my fairytale perfect vision of a wedding—with no real input from my groom. In retrospect, that should have been a red flag.
I had no intention of doing that with Bryson. With him, I’d found a love that was strong and steady, a love that was flawed and imperfect but far more real than any fairytale, and I wanted our wedding to reflect our love story, not some imagined fantasy of one.
He smiled softly. “Of course I will, darlin’. I want to help you every step of the way. Not just with a wedding, but with marriage. With life. We’re partners, right?”
I lifted my wineglass, as if to make a toast. “Till death do us part.”
He raised his glass and clinked it against mine, eyes warm and full of love. “Let me say ‘I do’ before we go dyin’, darlin’.”
I laughed and drank, knowing with unwavering certainty that Bryson would say those words at the altar when the time came.
I trusted him to take care of my heart—as I would always take care of his.