28. Epilogue
Epilogue
Four Months Later
“I still can’t believe you kept this old tire swing,” I said, leaning back as the warm spring breeze drifted over me.
The lake shimmered beneath the sunset, turning everything around us to gold. I felt like I was floating—weightless, free—as Brady pushed me gently. Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe this was my home. Our home.
But I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else with Brady.
Even if one of our closest neighbors was his momma.
Well, at least for a few weeks longer. She’d decided it would be best if she moved closer to Beau’s family.
Let’s just say the details of Isaac’s will had gone public, and he’d left her just enough to be comfortable, but the bulk of his estate went to his sons.
It was the final nail in her coffin, so to speak.
Honestly, I felt sorry for her, but when you live lies, the truth eventually catches up to you, and it’s never kind.
He chuckled behind me, voice low and teasing. “I still can’t believe how good you look in just my t-shirt,” he groaned.
I laughed, letting the swing carry me higher, catching glimpses of the rumpled picnic blanket nearby and the uneaten food. We had dessert first, as Brady would say.
“I just like to see you shirtless in jeans.” It was my favorite outfit of his ever. I especially loved the way the sun fell on his skin, making it glisten.
Brady grinned. “So, Mrs. Eaton-Jackson, how was your day?”
Who would’ve thought those two names would ever come together in this town?
Funny enough, it was Brady who suggested I hyphenate my last name. We both found it symbolic.
Of course, my author name remained untouched. To the world, I was still Elle Eaton. But to Brady—and to this town—I was something more.
Hope.
Hope that love really is the cure for hate.
Don’t get me wrong—things hadn’t magically become perfect. But people no longer sat in church based on their favorite football team or family. And Brady and I could go most places now without being the center of attention.
We were just us. And I loved us more than anything.
“Well, I had lunch with Aunt Lu,” I said, leaning back into the swing, “and she’s still begging me to do a real wedding.”
Brady chuckled.
Sure, Aunt Lu understood why we eloped. But she still felt robbed of her wedding, as she liked to call it.
Not that I’d change ours for anything.
There was something magical about it being just the two of us—and the Elvis impersonator who married us, then serenaded us with “Burning Love.”
It had kind of become our theme song.
“But,” I added, “I think I have something else in mind for her to plan. Something that’ll make her forget all about the wedding.”
Brady grabbed the tire to steady me, then leaned in, eyes locked on mine.
“And what would that be, darlin’?” he asked, curious and cautious. Probably because he was tired of the dirty looks Aunt Lu threw his way every time our wedding came up.
Though, to be fair, she was mostly pleasant toward him now. He was definitely growing on her.
I bit my lip, letting the moment stretch. “Well . . . ” I sang playfully. “I’m going to need her to plan a baby shower.”
Brady blinked, stunned. “Ellie,” he breathed. “Are you . . . pregnant?”
“Yes,” I whispered, smiling through tears.
He pressed his lips to mine, tears slipping down his cheeks. “You just made me the happiest man in the world.”
“How fitting,” I said, brushing his cheek. “Since I feel like the happiest woman in the world. Do you think our baby will be a rule breaker just like us?”
“I hope so, Ellie. I really hope so.”