Epilogue
Lydia
The groan was music to my ears. I shifted forward, arching into the delicious stretch, breath catching as my body lengthened just right. My hands gripped the solid frame beneath me.
‘That’s it,’ I murmured, voice low. ‘Push into it.’
The Lancaster Vale men’s first team were lined up on reformer machines, looking like a sexy calendar shoot gone rogue. Shaking limbs jutted out at odd angles. Some shirtless and sweaty. All absolutely hating every second of Pilates.
‘Really, lads,’ I tutted. ‘You haven’t been doing your stretches. The gaffer will be hearing about this.’
Cue a chorus of Lydia, please and We’ll do extra this week.
‘Fine. But I want box seats next season.’ I pointed at Thiago Blundell, Lancaster’s star striker, who held up his hands in defence.
‘You’re the best, Lydia,’ added Nico van Haaren, the Dutch-Argentine keeper with hands like dinner plates.
The studio door swung open, sunlight flooding the room in golden beams. A familiar silhouette leaned against the frame, arms crossed in a cocky display. My face broke into a grin, my stomach still flipping with butterflies, even now.
‘You’d think I’d be intimidated,’ Ren drawled, ‘knowing my girlfriend trains eleven professional athletes every Friday. But after the performance you lot gave last week? I’m feeling pretty confident I don’t have to worry.’
‘Oh, piss off, Hunter,’ shot back Robbie McNair, though his lips twitched. Robbie was in Liam’s year at Everly Heath High and had known of Ren long before Pilates became part of his pay-cheque-sanctioned weekly torment. ‘Like you could do any better.’
‘At this rate, they should let me have a go.’ Ren sauntered into the room, heading for my reformer.
He leaned over, where I was still stretching out my hamstrings, and cupped my cheeks in his hands. His lips met mine in a long, lingering kiss, slow and unhurried, only pulling back when my tongue grazed his and his chest rumbled in quiet satisfaction.
The 11 giant babies burst into a chorus of ‘Eww!’, save for Nico, the eternal softie, who let out an ‘Aww!’
Ren ignored the lot of them, totally unfazed, and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose.
‘Hey, Sunshine!’
I beamed. ‘Hey! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be unloading the wine for the wedding?’
‘All in the cellar.’ His eyes flashed with excitement. ‘It’s here. Dad just delivered it. I came straight here to tell you.’
‘Oh, my God!’ I squealed, pulling myself off the reformer in the most elegant way I could – spoiler: not very. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Jesus, Lydia!’ Heath McKinnon, the Aussie right back, winced. ‘Pretty sure they heard you in Blackpool.’
‘Right. Class is over!’ I announced. ‘If you leave now, I won’t tell the boss man you’ve been skipping your stretches.’
The team didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled off the reformers, groaning as they sauntered out of the studio, some rubbing their legs and arms.
I chuckled. ‘Honestly, they run flat out for ninety minutes every week against the best of the best. But get them stretching and they turn into big babies.’
‘Those are some of the richest athletes in the Northwest, Lydia,’ Ren said, eyes crinkling. ‘And you call them big babies?’
‘What can I say?’ I looped my arms around his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a thing for penniless bartenders instead.’
Ren clicked his tongue. ‘I’ll have you know I’m basically landed gentry now. And we’re the proud owners of this year’s Best Restaurant in the Northwest. Third best—’
‘Third best in the country, I know.’ I smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear, ‘So, where’s my Birkin?’
‘I don’t know what a Birkin is, but I’ve got some wood to show you.’ He grinned, winking.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Come on. It’ll take us half an hour to get across this bloody farm.’
He threaded his fingers through mine. ‘Oh, it’s the bloody farm now, is it? Says the woman who secured seed funding for it behind my back.’
We walked past the largest barn, its high ceilings converted from an abandoned outbuilding into a state-of-the-art gym – complete with a massive weights area, machines, and treadmills, open to PT clients, members, and hotel guests.
Down the gravel path, we passed the hot yoga studio, the stables which were in the process of being turned into small offices for local businesses, and the path down to the fields where local farmers kept their sheep, grazing on the grass in the late summer sunshine.
Then, on our right, we passed the main farmhouse, now transformed into a Michelin-Guide-worthy restaurant, Magnolia, with a parlour bar and boutique hotel upstairs.
The farmhouse had ivy-covered stone walls and its original windows, now restored, framed views of the orchard.
Liam crafted a brilliant menu of seasonal dishes for locals and visitors alike and Kat had smashed it with the interiors, weaving in a modern farmhouse aesthetic, with terracotta floors, warm oak panelling, and mismatched vintage chairs she’d sourced from charity shops and refinished herself.
The whole farm had that charming chaos we’d come to love.
Everly Heath Farm wasn’t just a gym, or a hotel, or a restaurant.
It was all three, stitched together with wildflower borders, reclaimed wood sleepers, and festoon lights that flickered on at dusk.
There was a bit of luxury, a lot of local charm, and Ren and me woven into every inch.
‘Lydia, Lydia,’ Pat’s nephew, Josh, our newly appointed Events Manager, came racing across the lawn in front of the Farmhouse, ‘We have a problem.’
My stomach swooped. But I took a deep breath, calming myself. Ren squeezed my hand.
‘What’s up, Josh?’
‘The power to the marquee has fused. I found the switchboard but it isn’t coming back on. I’m worried we won’t have any power for tomorrow—’
‘Hmm. We could get a back-up generator.’
Ren pulled his phone out. ‘I’ll call Dad – he’ll have an electrician who can come out.’
‘This last-minute?’ I bit my lip. ‘It’s Friday evening.’
Ren chuckled. ‘Dad has strings he can pull, don’t worry.’
I turned to Josh, who looked at us, dumbfounded. ‘You two are weirdly calm. It’s freaking me out.’
I reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, which, since he was six foot four, wasn’t easy.
‘Josh, a few months ago, we didn’t have any working toilets in the en suites.’
‘And we had a pig escape on our soft launch. They ate the canapés.’
‘Oh, and there was that time we had someone trapped in the toilets in the restaurant and we had to call the fire brigade out to rescue them.’
Ren clicked his fingers. ‘That was stressful.’
I turned to Josh, beaming. ‘You’re doing a great job. But this is PR, not the ER. As long as no one died, I’m not worried.’
Josh’s shoulders dropped a few inches. ‘Okay, I’ll go and check on the linen delivery.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re good at that,’ Ren said, smiling, as he ran a hand down my ponytail. ‘Keeping people calm.’
I blushed at the compliment. Managing people hadn’t been strange at first – having people turn to me to answer their questions or have the final say on the colour of the walls.
But, after a while, I found myself looking forward to leading staff meetings or annual reviews, where we could give people pay rises.
My worries about my dyscalculia, my anxiety about numbers, hadn’t disappeared.
But Ren led on the meetings with accountants or meetings with Niall about investments and returns.
I focused on the people, which had always been my strength anyway.
‘Josh is a good egg. He just needs someone to turn to every now and then.’
Ren pulled me to a stop, playing with an errant hair that had escaped my hair tie.
‘You’re very good at your job, Sunshine. Let me say it, and let yourself hear it. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ I smiled.
‘Come on before someone else pounces on us about tomorrow.’
Excitement bubbled in my chest. Tomorrow.
God, it had come around so fast.
Ren tugged me along, his long legs setting a faster pace past the packed restaurant with people enjoying their long Friday lunch.
Sleeper steps led us down to the more remote part of the farm, past a small paddock for cows, and towards the far edge of the property, where the restored apple orchard spread out in full bloom.
There, between two ancient apple trees, stood an ornate archway in soft oak, woven with carved flowers and fruit.
My legs moved faster than my brain, dragging Ren with me.
As I got closer, I saw the detail. Lilies and citrus fruits had been painstakingly carved by hand into the wood.
I reached out, fingers gliding over its smooth, glossy finish.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ I said. ‘Kat is going to love it.’
‘Dad and Liam did a brilliant job.’ Ren’s hand found my shoulder blade, rubbing it gently, like he knew exactly how much this meant.
Weddings made me feral. It was something about the anticipation, the crisp champagne, everyone dressed up to the nines.
But this wedding was even more important. Because it was family.
Kat and Liam. My cousin and Ren’s brother. It meant everything to us.
And crucially, it was the first wedding Ren and I were hosting at Everly Heath Farm and we had 24 hours until go-time. I turned to Ren, looping my arms around his shoulders. His hands skimmed down to my hips, and I arched my neck, an unspoken invitation he answered with a kiss there.
‘Do we have everything?’
‘You know we do.’
‘Are you sure?’ I pulled back, scrunching my nose. ‘What if we run out of bog roll?’
Ren chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. ‘We’ve still got that lifetime supply you got from Costco, Sunshine. We’re fine.’
‘And the bridal suite?’ I pressed. ‘What do you think? I know we haven’t finished the painting in that corner of the bathroom. I can do that tonight. It’s not all perfect—’
‘Honey.’ His voice dropped, low and lovely. ‘Kat loves that room. She designed it, remember? She’d accept bare plaster in there if it meant she could soak in that roll-top tub and look out over the farm. Everything’s ready. We’re ready.’
A smile crept across my face.
‘We are, aren’t we?’
‘You betcha. Liam’s got his surprise—’ he nodded towards the archway, ‘—but I’ve got mine.’
‘What are you plotting?’ I asked as he led me through the trees to the far end of the orchard. Quiet. Remote.
There a bench sat, one I’d never seen before.
Ren took a seat on the bench, fingers tracing the edge of a small brass plaque on the back.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF LILY HUNTER. ALWAYS WITH US.
I stood still, fingertips grazing her name.
‘It’s beautiful, Ren.’
‘Well,’ he said, voice thick, ‘she’d hate to miss the occasion. So I figured… she could sit here.’
My eyes burned. I cupped his face, tears slipping freely now. Then I sat beside him, both of us looking out at the spot where, tomorrow, Kat and Liam’s family and friends would gather to celebrate their love.
He shifted, gaze steady. ‘Let’s do this next year.’
‘What? Organise another wedding?’
‘Ours.’
My eyes shot to Ren, eyes wide. Then I narrowed them, a teasing smile playing on my lips.
‘Is that supposed to be a proposal? Because proposing the day before your brother’s wedding – the wedding we’re hosting – is a massive red flag.’
Ren smirked in that way that let him get away with anything. ‘Not a proposal. Not yet. I’m just saying – let’s do this next year. We can keep it smaller than Kat and Liam’s. We don’t need a hundred and fifty people. We could keep it low-key. You and me. Peggy. Some family.’
‘You think we can get away with just family? The whole of this nosy town would riot.’
Ren shrugged. ‘Not their wedding.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?’
His smirk softened into something more thoughtful. ‘Hard not to imagine it. A perfect day. Family, friends, good food, love.’ His gaze settled on me, and my stomach dived. ‘And I already have a speech prepared.’
I huffed a laugh. ‘Oh, really? Not proposed yet, but you’ve prepped the speech?’
‘Yep.’
‘Go on then,’ I challenged. ‘Give me a sneak peek. Then I might say yes.’
His expression shifted – sincere, steady – and suddenly I wished I hadn’t asked, because I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever came next.
‘Lydia.’
My heart skipped.
‘Lydia,’ he said again, lifting my knuckles to his lips.
‘You are the brightest light in every room. You’re pure sunshine.
Even on my cloudiest days, the sun’s still there, because you are.
I knew, even when we were six. I knew it the moment you looked at me.
You’ve been in my life for what feels like forever, and I want you there beside me until I take my last breath. ’
My chest tightened. My throat burned.
‘Well, fuck,’ I whispered.
Ren barked a laugh, head thrown back. Then he cradled my jaw and kissed me, soft and sure.
‘Is that a yes?’
I blinked up at him, heart pounding. ‘I think you already know it is.’
I kissed him, pouring every ounce of feeling into it. When I pulled away, I pressed a finger to his chest.
‘But you better give me a proper proposal, loser.’
Ren’s grin turned reverent, eyes deep and warm – like home. ‘I promise.’
And he made good on that promise just six weeks later.