Epilogue
MOLLY
The Nevada sun spills over the desert like liquid gold, lighting up the mountains in the distance and painting the edges of the strip with a warm, honeyed glow.
From the balcony of our hotel suite, I can see it all—Vegas in its chaotic, glittering glory.
Neon signs flash like confetti, people bustle along the sidewalks in everything from tuxedos and ballgowns to sarongs and flip flops.
Music thumps from an open-air bar across the street, and for a moment, I just take it in. All of it.
Because this is where it all started. Where I met him. Where I accidentally fell into the best mistake of my life. And where, in just a few short hours, I’ll marry the man who changed everything.
Behind me, the suite is alive with noise. Laughter. Excited voices. The kind of pre-wedding buzz that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip.
“Mommy,” Autumn’s voice rings out, sweet and urgent. “Can I wear my sparkly shoes now?”
I turn, smiling, and she’s there - my four-year-old whirlwind - in a cloud of soft pink tulle, her curls bouncing, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She’s already in her flower girl dress, which she insists on calling her “princess gown.” And I’m not about to correct her.
“Almost, baby,” I say, crouching down to her level. “Let’s wait until we’re dressed and ready to go, okay?”
“But I want to wear them now,” she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip dramatically. “They make the clicky sound when I walk.”
I grin.
“How about this—you can wear them if you promise not to jump on the bed again.”
She considers this with all the seriousness of a diplomat negotiating peace. Then she nods solemnly.
“Deal.”
I ruffle her curls.
“Go ask Nana to help you put them on.”
Autumn dashes off toward my mom, who’s perched on the sofa, half laughing, and wrestling with a tiny bow that apparently must go in Autumn’s hair. The whole scene is warm and chaotic and perfect.
I move toward the full-length mirror, and for the first time all day, I let myself take a breath. Today is the day. After everything we’ve been through together. The attack. The fear. The courtroom. The healing. The slow, beautiful way Joshua pieced us back together.
This is our fresh start.
My dress hangs from the closet door beside me.
It’s a simple, elegant gown with a satin bodice and a flowing chiffon skirt that moves like air.
I hadn’t wanted anything too fussy. No ballgowns or tight corsets or veils the size of parachutes.
Just something soft. Something light. Something that feels like me.
I run my hand over the fabric, my stomach fluttering again, but this time, it’s not nerves. It’s joy. Real, deep joy like I’ve never known before.
Behind me footsteps approach and I hear the gentle squeal of a baby. It’s Oscar. Joshua’s sister, Hannah, appears in the mirror’s reflection, bouncing her son on her hip while trying to get him to sip water from a bottle.
“He’s teething,” she sighs. “We’ve been up since four o’clock.”
I wince sympathetically.
“Ouch. You didn’t have to fly in with him so young, Han.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Besides, he slept on the plane better than my husband did,” she says, and she grins and gestures toward her husband, Mitchell, who’s passed out in an armchair with his mouth wide open.
I laugh.
“Classic Mitchell.”
Emily walks over and gently sets Oscar down on the carpet, where he immediately starts trying to eat a hotel pen which she quickly wrestles away from him.
“He loves your dress, by the way,” she says, eyeing the gown. “And so do I.”
“Thanks. I feel like a bride already.”
“You are a bride.”
I smile. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
The chapel is small, intimate, and bathed in soft yellow candlelight. Fairy lights twinkle overhead, casting golden halos over everything. A string quartet plays quietly in the corner, their music folding around the space like a lullaby.
My mom walks me down the aisle which is fitting because she’s always been my rock. My anchor. My fiercest champion. Today, she wears a pale silver dress and a matching hat. She looks beautiful. Every time she looks at me, she gets watery eyes, and she gives me a proud, trembling smile.
“Are you ready to become Mrs Redfern?” she whispers as we reach the end of the aisle.
I glance down the aisle. Joshua’s already there standing at the end in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair just a little messy, his jaw clenched like he’s trying not to cry. His eyes lock on mine the second he sees me standing there. And everything else disappears.
“I’ve never been more ready.”
We walk slowly, the music swelling around us.
Autumn skips ahead of us, holding her tiny bouquet of silk flowers.
She looks back at me and beams, like she knows she’s part of something big.
Like she understands, in her own way, that today matters.
When I reach Joshua, he takes my hand in his and he doesn’t let go.
The officiant’s words blur a little. Not because I’m not listening, but because I’m too busy looking at Joshua. At the way his thumb moves in slow circles over the back of my hand. At the faint sheen of tears in his eyes. At the love written so clearly across his face it makes my chest ache.
We say our vows in soft voices. I promise to love him through every season, every storm, every quiet night and noisy morning. I promise to trust him, to grow with him, to raise our children in a home filled with laughter and light.
He promises to protect me. To stand by me. To never take one second of this life for granted.
We exchange rings. We kiss.
And just like that, we’re husband and wife.
The reception is held on the rooftop terrace of the hotel, the skyline glittering around us like a crown. The night is warm, the breeze soft, and laughter spills like champagne into the open air.
Joshua’s mom cries during her toast. His dad claps him on the back like he’s just scored the winning goal in a championship match. Hannah dances with Mitchell, her feet bare, holding Oscar against her chest while he gums on a teething ring and watches the lights with wide eyes.
But it’s Autumn who steals the show. She dances with everyone - me, Joshua, my mom, the bartender, a random tourist who wandered into the venue thinking it was a public party and when he came to apologize, we told him to stay.
She eats three cupcakes, gets frosting in her hair, and passes out curled up on a deck chair under a borrowed blanket before we even cut the cake.
And through it all, Joshua never leaves my side.
We dance under the stars, his hands warm at my waist, my cheek pressed to his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
I nod my head.
“I’m more than okay.”
“You look like a dream, Mol,” he says.
He kisses me, slow and sure and sweet.
“You’re stuck with me now,” I say against his lips. “I officially trapped you.”
“You’re the best trap I’ve ever fallen into.”
I smile.
“And you’re my favorite mistake.”
Later, after the party is over and we have retreated to the honeymoon suite, my mom having taken Autumn to her room for the night, we sit on the edge of the bed, barefoot and tired and glowing.
My dress is draped over the armchair. Joshua’s tie is looped around the door handle. Joshua brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You look happy,” he says.
I lean into him, my hand resting over the gentle swell of my belly.
“I am. More than I thought was possible.”
“I keep thinking about that night,” he says. “The night we met. How I never expected it to mean anything.”
“You and me both.”
“I thought it was just a wild night. One of those things you laugh about later.”
I smile.
“It’s still kind of funny.”
“True. But then I found you again. And now …” He trails off with a shrug and then he finishes his thought. “Now I’ve got everything I didn’t even know I needed.”
Tears prickle behind my eyes.
“I used to think I didn’t deserve this,” I whisper. “That I messed up too much. That I was too broken.”
“You’re not broken,” he says fiercely. “You never were.”
“But I was scared. Of being a mom. Of being loved. Of losing it all.”
“You’re not going to lose it,” he says. “Not ever.”
I look at him, and I believe him.
Because this man - this stubborn, loyal, maddeningly protective, amazing man - has proven it time and time again. He came back for me when I didn’t think he would. He stood by me when everything fell apart. He saved my life more than once.
And now he’s made me his wife.
We lay back on the bed, our fingers laced together over my stomach.
Outside, Vegas hums with life. Inside, I lay in the arms of the man I love, our daughter safe and sound with my mom, and a new life growing beneath my ribs.
I used to think happily ever after was just a fantasy. Something for fairytales. For movies. For other people. But tonight? Tonight, I know the truth.
It’s real. It’s messy and beautiful and terrifying and loud. It’s cupcakes in hair and baby giggles and midnight kisses on hotel rooftops.
It’s him. It’s us. And it’s forever.
And they lived happily ever after…