Epilogue
Six Months Later
The bell above the door chimes softly as Alderic and I step inside, the delicate sound ringing through the boutique. It’s warm here, cozy in that intoxicating way only small shops and bakeries manage to pull off.
Outside, the South Carolina winter is colder than usual, the kind of biting chill that lingers no matter how many layers I put on or how sweaty I get inside my coat. But here in Wilder Ever After, it’s summer again, the air rich with lavender and the faintest hint of something sweet.
The wedding boutique looks exactly as I remember.
Faceted crystals dangle from the ceiling like suspended starlight and scatter tiny rainbows across the glossy hardwood floor.
Floor-length gowns shimmer along their racks, pools of ivory and champagne, intricate beading catching the golden glow of the pendant lights.
Bundles of herbs tied with twine rest beside a collection of candles shaped like goddesses.
Veils float from silver hooks like ghosts caught mid-spin.
And nestled among a delicate cloud of lace and silk, a small vase of fresh strawberries sits on the counter—ripe, red, and waiting.
“It’s like they knew we were coming.” Alderic pops a berry into his mouth and reaches for another. “You know, I’ve been thinking…we should make chocolate covered strawberries our signature dessert. Every Fated Feasts catering package comes with a platter of indulgence.”
I smile, my heart swelling in that way it always does when he talks about our business. “You just want an excuse to play with sweets.”
“And what if I do?” He chews thoughtfully, his voice rich with mock offense. “I’d argue my cake decorating skills are a public service. Honestly, I should be knighted.”
I laugh, bumping his thigh with my hip. It’s true, though.
As it turns out, he’s ridiculously talented with a piping bag…
among other things. He once turned a dozen cupcakes into a Baroque-style fresco.
I handle the customers, the spreadsheets, the bank accounts.
He handles the sugar and spice and everything delicious.
We built this together—a thriving catering company. A life. A future I can’t imagine without him. Not because I need him. But because I chose him. Because I finally chose myself, and that choice led me here.
I lace my fingers through his, squeezing gently. “Come on, sugar daddy,” I whisper. “Let’s go see my dress.”
Alderic grins, sliding his arm around my waist as we move deeper into the shop.
His golden hair tousled from the brisk winter wind, his ocean-blue gaze glitters as he takes in the boutique’s eclectic charms—the velvet-draped windows, the wax dongs, the strands of talismans that dangle from the ceiling like captured constellations.
“Remind me why I don’t get to try on anything?” he asks, his voice low against my ear.
“Because if I let you loose in the crystal vaginas, I’ll never get you out again.”
“It’s you two!” Elsie emerges from behind a display with a grin so wide and unapologetic, it could melt the frost off a January windshield, her gaze bouncing between Alderic and me. So much like Sylvie and yet so different.
The boutique manager waves from the shadowed corner of the shop where she adjusts a display of dried lavender bundles and moonstone charms. Her long, flowing skirt brushes against the polished wood floor as she approaches.
The silver pendant at her neck glints like an open eye.
Her salt-and-pepper hair is twisted into a perfect coil on the top of her head, and her lips are painted the same shade of deep wine-red as the last time I saw her.
From beneath thick, black lashes, her dark gaze locks onto mine, seeing, knowing.
But this time, the weight of her focus doesn’t make me nervous. It doesn’t make me want to turn away. This time, it feels like recognition. Like understanding whispered across realms.
“I’m here to try on my wedding dress,” I say, standing a little taller.
The manager hums, and her fingers drift through the air in an absent-minded pattern—one I half expect to shimmer with magick.
“Ah,” she murmurs, nails trailing along the silver pendant at her throat, clicking against the metal. “And to think, last time we met, you stood at a crossroads.” She smiles. “I am happy to see the path you chose.”
It feels like she knows every road I’ve walked. Every turn I took. Like she knew, even then, that I would find my way back here. That I would find my way to him.
Alderic lifts a brow. “Are the beginnings of all wedding gown fittings this dramatic?”
Elsie giggles, swatting at his arm. “Only the really good ones.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking him up and down. “Are you calling my wedding gown fitting dramatic?”
He shrugs, completely unrepentant. “At any moment, doves might spontaneously appear.”
I shake my head. “You’re the one who asked to come along.”
“Oh, I’d sit through a hundred fittings if it meant I got to watch you undress and call me your husband.”
My cheeks flush. “You like being called that?”
He arches a single brow. “Say it again and find out.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s useless. I’m already leaning into him, into the warmth of his hands as his fingers brush my skin. He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of miracle, like I hung the stars just to lead him home.
“I know that look,” I murmur, my voice catching on the swell of emotion in my throat.
His thumb traces lazy circles along my wrist. “Just thinking about fate,” he says. “And how if I’d known it would end like this—that you were waiting for me on the other side of everything—I would have run faster. I would have torn the world apart to get here sooner.”
“You’re here now,” I whisper. “You don’t have to run anymore.”
His lips slant over mine, warm, certain, tasting of strawberries. And in that kiss, I feel it: the shift of something cosmic, the quiet click of destiny falling into place. Not a surrender, but a return.
Not to the version of me who played it safe, or the woman who made herself smaller to survive.
But to the one who chose herself.
Finally—finally—I’m home.