Epilogue
WYATT
I move the multicolored turkey sign hanging from the Emersons’ door and rap my knuckles against it, my nerves jittery.
I should be thrilled, flying on clouds, and dizzy from the turn of events of this week. After all, I’ve had my fair share of my mother’s cooking, which I’ve missed. Last night, my father even told me he’s proud of me, bringing the total number of times he’s expressed such a thing to me in my life to three.
And Larissa and I have blissfully, sinfully, spectacularly reconnected.
But it’s precisely because of Larissa that I’m currently pacing in front of her door like I did the night I came by to ask her to the homecoming dance in high school.
Larissa’s the one who answers, and I relax a fraction. A commotion erupts from inside, presumably from her sisters and mother. They’re in Thanksgiving dinner prep for this afternoon, which always gets rambunctious.
Pulling her cardigan more tightly around her, Larissa steps onto the porch and shuts the door, sealing off the noise and heat from inside. The breeze is cooler today than it has been all week. It drifts through her curled strands, which flow in loose tendrils over her shoulders.
With her crocheted cardigan, boots, and festive homemade hat, she belongs in a fall magazine.
“You’re early, mister.” She points to her watch.
“I couldn’t wait to get my hands on one of these gems.” I gently flick the feathers on the back of her crown-like hat. A smiling cartoon turkey is perched on the front.
She sticks her tongue out. “I know you’re allergic to this kind of fun, but the hat stays, no matter how much you tease.”
“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m no longer allergic to fun.”
“Since when?”
“Since my quirky ex-girlfriend reintroduced me to the concept.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to drop the ex ?” Her easy smile falters as she lifts her hesitant gaze to meet mine, and my heart stumbles. “I mean, with everything that’s happened this week, we could… if you wanted…”
My lips twitch with an oncoming grin. “The smart thing to do would be to drop the ex . It’s actually the second reason I’m here early.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve been dodging me for two days.” I leave a question hanging in the air.
“I haven’t.”
I hold my phone up. “Four missed calls and texts would suggest otherwise.”
“I had to cancel dinner last night, but it was for a good reason. I was going to tell you about it this afternoon, but I guess now works too.”
“What’s going on?”
Her previously defensive expression softens into a lighthearted one as her lips tilt into a shy smile. “You remember me telling you about Gladys Covington, right? The designs I did for her and her friends?”
I nod slowly.
“She loved them and wanted to pick up the finished product last night, and it turned into a business meeting of sorts. I was so not prepared, but she was super kind and encouraging,” she rambles. “We ended up talking about turning this into a business and how she’d connect me with a loan officer at the bank where she works. Can you imagine? Me as a business owner?”
“It’s hardly unbelievable,” I say, beaming. I love when she’s this excited, whether it’s over a slice of pumpkin pie or her dreams. Either way, it’s a breath of fresh air.
“But I don’t know if it’s the right move.” She paces in front of me, still wrapped tightly in her sweater. “I mean, I’ve definitely had more fun designing silly little golf vests and sweaters for her and the Ladies’ League than I ever did with runway looks, but could it be something more than a side hustle? Could it be a full-time gig?”
“If you want it to be.”
Larissa bites her bottom lip and finally stops pacing. Lacing her fingers through mine, she releases her lip and asks, “What would you think about me eventually designing a women’s golf line? It could be something… big.”
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.
“Ever since last weekend, I’ve had all these ideas for fun patterns and styles in cute color palettes. I showed some to Gladys, who’s been regularly complaining about golf clothes, and she went nuts. I don’t know. I feel like that could be my thing. It could be what I’ve been searching for this whole time.”
I draw her into me and rest my chin on top of her head. “I fucking love it, Larissa, and I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“You better. You have to be my celebrity connection to get everything off the ground.” She pulls back and pokes me in the chest. Her teasing tone suggests she’s not serious, but I am when I repeat my offer to help in any way possible.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She studies me carefully.
“Very,” I whisper against her lips before I capture them with my own, sinking into a searing kiss that nearly burns my skin.
It should be a crime to share this kind of passion with another person. If it were, I’d gladly do twenty to life just to make sure it never fizzles.
And my gut says it won’t.
“So, about what you said earlier…” Larissa inches backward and brings her fingers to toy with the collar of my button-up. “Since I’m your girlfriend and all, what does that mean exactly? Where do we go from here when you go home to Florida?”
“Come with me,” I say without hesitation.
“Move in with you?”
I pin her under my sober gaze and nod.
“Are you just blurting out propositions off the top of your head, or do you really mean that?”
“I’ve put real thought into it.” I hold my hand up like I’m taking an oath in a courtroom. “I have a three-bedroom house with a pool. You can use one of the bedrooms for your own home office and studio for your new business. We can have morning coffee on the terrace. I’ll even get rid of some of my golf shoes to make room for your things in my closet. Whatever else you want, we’ll make it happen—together.”
Her bottom lip trembles before it tips into a watery smile.
I take her hands in both of mine and clutch them to my chest, underneath which my heart hammers erratically. “I love you, Larissa. I always have. I want you to be home when I get there. To be on the road with me for tournaments when you can get away. I desperately want to be next to you when you conquer your dreams. To celebrate your achievements together. I can’t stomach the thought of having it any other way.”
A tear trickles down her cheek. As I use the pad of my thumb to wipe it away, she whispers, “But what about your dad? He won’t like this.”
“He doesn’t have to.” I furrow my brows, and agony slices through me as I consider all the times my father wedged a hole between us. Not anymore. I can’t let it happen ever again. “Besides, my mother is your biggest fan, and with her on my side, she’ll deal with my father’s disapproval more than I’ll need to. She has a unique hold over him that will work in our favor.” I wink.
Such a unique hold is one I’ve never understood more than I do in this moment as I wrap Larissa in my arms.
“What do you say?” I ask, and hope bursts in my chest.
“I say…” She squeezes her eyes closed, then opens them again, the glint in them reaching something deep in my soul that’s never been touched by any other person before. “I say, I love you, Wyatt Drake. I want everything you just described, and I want it all with you.”
I scoop her into my arms, plant a sloppy kiss to her lips, and soak up the giggles she releases into me, her hands splayed across both of my cheeks.
The door swings open behind us, and out pour her mother and sisters. Her father hangs in the back as the girls tear Larissa away from me, gushing over how “sickeningly sweet” our whole conversation was.
“You all were eavesdropping?” Larissa gapes.
“Only because we love you,” her older sister argues.
“And we’re going to miss you,” her mother laments, but she does so with a proud and loving smile as she tucks her daughter’s hair behind her ear in the midst of a celebration.
It’s only cut short when Francine, the youngest of us all, spreads her arms out. “All right, all right. There’s plenty of time to rave over this new development, but pumpkin pie awaits! Let’s stop standing around, people. Thanksgiving isn’t going to celebrate itself.” She claps and ushers us inside, then points to me. “Wyatt—you’re on cranberry duty.”
“I’m going to finish the yams. You better not have eaten all the marshmallows while I was outside,” Larissa warns her older sister.
“No,” she draws out. “But I did decide I want to wear this hat. You can wear the Pilgrim one.”
As the two wrestle over the ridiculous paper hats, the smells of cinnamon and other fall spices infiltrate my senses. The living room is decked in reds, yellows, and oranges. A big sign that reads It’s Fall Y’all hangs from their fireplace, and a garland of festive leaves surrounds it. Some autumn movie plays on the TV, but it’s not audible over the girls’ back-and-forth.
Larissa’s father shakes my hand and welcomes me into their home, and my heart overflows with gratitude and relief.
I thought I came back to Magnolia Point to take a break from my life and relax, but this visit has turned into so much more. It’s launched the beginning of the rest of my life, with Larissa by my side and the infinite possibilities of our happily ever after.
Thanks so much for reading!