Epilogue
One Year Later
Evie
Turns out, Rugged Mountain can never have too many pie shops. We’ve been open for six months and Fairytale Pies is doing better than I ever expected. We sell Snow White’s Apple Pie, Cinderella’s Pumpkin Pie, and an array of others inspired by fairytales with happily-ever-after’s.
Sawyer rolls a cart in from the back of the shop to restock the front display case. He’s shifted his work schedule since the wedding. Most days he spends here with me, though a few nights a week he still goes into meet clients at Rugged Mountain Ink. Those nights I spend with Grace. She usually comes to the shop, and we add to the décor or sit and admire it. It’s a whimsical space of twinkling lights, castle murals, and hanging ivy. I wanted people to walk in and feel as though they’d been transported to another realm. I didn’t have to go all out with décor, but I think it’s what separates us from other pie shops in town.
“Did you decide which pie we’re calling our own yet,” Sawyer says, pulling out a tray of Frog Prince Pistachio. “I vote for Soulmate Strawberry. Then again… I can’t stop thinking about Forever Together Coconut Cream, too. They’re both so good.” How is this big, tough, inked up man also the cutest human being to ever live? He rubs his hand over my expanded stomach. “We’ll need a special pie for the baby, too. We should brainstorm ideas now, so we’re not stuck on it forever like ours. Something cute like Precious Peach Tart.”
I laugh and lean into him, soaking in the warmth of his presence. It’s something I’ll never get tired of. He’s not just here, he’s involved. He doesn’t say he supports me, he actually supports me. I always knew he would. That’s why the little wedding we had by the river was so sweet, and the cabin he built feels that much warmer. But most of all, this baby growing inside of me, our little girl, Anna, will feel that much more loved.
“I like that idea.” I smile wide and turn toward him as he brushes my hair back away from my face and kisses the tip of my nose with a satisfied moan.
The bell on the front door rings, forcing my gaze to the front of the store.
“Dad?” I wonder if I look as surprised as I sound. What the hell? It’s been a solid year since I’ve seen or heard from my father. He looks even older with sagging jowls and newly formed wrinkles near his eyes. It’s funny, all that money can’t buy you time.
He turns his head in circles, checking out the shop. “I heard from folks I needed to try the Father’s Faux Fortune.”
My cheeks turn red. The Father’s Faux Fortune pie was one of the first I ever made. It’s a blend of rich chocolate and bitter walnuts and was meant to symbolize the illusion of wealth over actual fortune. It’s how I processed my emotions. I never expected anyone to like it, and I certainly didn’t expect my father to taste it. Hell, I never expected him to set foot in my shop. To be real, I never expected him to talk to me again, and I’m pretty sure he expected me to fail.
“Sure.” I pull out the pie and slide it into a shiny, white box and tie it slowly with a signature yellow ribbon. This is an addition Grace suggested. Apparently, yellow makes people happy, and that’s what we’re about here— happiness.
“You’re pregnant,” my father blurts as I step around the counter to hand him the pie. I forgot he wouldn’t have known that.
“Eight months. We’re having a baby girl. Anna Michelle.”
Now it’s my father who’s silent. “After your mother. She’d be proud of you, proud of this.”
I’ve never heard my father talk like this and I’m not sure how to take it. I hand him the box and he pulls out the gold card I’ve seen hundreds of thousands of times through my life, handing it toward me.
“No,” I shake my head and pass him the box, “we’re good. It’s on the house.” I grab a few other fairytale tarts off the top of the display case and pile them onto the box. “Take these too. They’re some of our best sellers.”
“I need to pay,” my father insists again, but I meant what I said a year ago. I’ll never take another dime from my father again.
“No, it’s yours. Enjoy.”
Sawyer stands behind me, the heat of his body warm and comforting as my father turns away then back again.
“Maybe I could stop by after the baby is born. I’d love to meet my grandchild and maybe get to know Sawyer a little better.”
“You’re always welcome.” I smile kindly as though he’s a stranger and turn back into my husband. The man who made my dreams. The man who’s heart mine calls out for. The man who’s taught me how to love.
I could be bitter over how things went down with my father, but I’m not. It’s the life I had with him that drew me here to this man, to this love, to this shop. It’s that life with my father that made me realize that money isn’t a privilege at all. Money is merely a thing… a piece of green paper with a stranger stamped on top.
Call me simple, but I’ll take a warm slice of pie and a big, strong man over money any day—and I’m pretty sure that makes me the richest girl of all.
THANK YOU FOR READING.
READ GRACE’S STORY HERE.