Epilogue
It turned out, Remy wasn’t as good at drawing lines with Lydia as he liked to believe.
Because he ended up with Wesley as a ring bearer, all fine, and Pascal as a flower critter, which he was a lot less charmed by.
Matthew was his best man. His total support of the union between Remy and his sister had filled Remy with a kind of joy that went beyond words.
It was mostly a Clay family affair. But they were his family now too.
And Lydia . . .
He stood at the altar, watching her walk toward him, wearing a white dress, just as she had been that night they first made love, with a bouquet of roses in her hands, and Hank walking right by her side.
Well, Lydia was more than just family.
She was a whole force of nature.
She had come in and changed his entire life, had expanded his idea of love from top to bottom.
And he was going to keep her, forever.
As she gazed up at him with eyes full of love, he felt a kind of peace that he had never imagined could be found by a man like him.
But that, he supposed, was the miracle of love.
It restored neglected horses and made abandoned cattle dogs into the most loyal of pets.
And it changed the hardest, most damaged of men into a father.
“Aren’t you glad you took Hank in?” she asked just before he kissed the bride.
“I’ve never been gladder of anything in all my life. Except this.” And then he kissed her, as his whole family, her whole family, cheered.
Remington Lane was entirely certain of what love was now. And that was a miracle he would never take for granted.