Epilogue
Campbell
One year later . . .
I’m holding a bouquet of white lilacs, facing a groom so handsome I couldn’t have imagined it.
The temperature is perfect, and fluffy white clouds dot the blue sky.
I stand at the front of the pavilion. Instead of a flower arch, the whole space is decorated with white and blush-colored roses.
Same with the chairs. When those are moved to make space for the tables for the reception, each tabletop will have a fragrant bouquet of white lilacs, picked fresh an hour ago.
“You may now kiss the bride.” The pastor who baptized me, confirmed me, and caught me drinking with his daughter in high school and made us mow the church lawn for a month, finishes the ceremony.
Durban lifts the bouquet from my hands and gives it to Jamison.
She’s wearing a dress in the blush color that’s perfect for a late spring day.
I told them the color and asked them each to pick out their own style.
My oldest sister is my maid of honor. Then Avery, Thea, and Sydney.
I’ve gotten closer with my cousin over the last year as she distanced herself from her family.
Maybe she’ll reconcile. I don’t care if I see January again. The trust is gone, and she’s somewhere in Costa Rica, eating, praying, and loving. My aunt and uncle aren’t in the crowd either. My new husband said if they made me uncomfortable, they weren’t coming.
He dips me for the kiss, and our guests cheer.
When he sets me right, he whispers in my ear, “You’re blushing.”
I grin and turn so my mouth brushes the shell of his ear. “Don’t dip me too far. I’m also not wearing underwear.”
He groans. “As soon as we reach the barn, I’m taking you to the tack room.”
Hailstorm’s led to the pavilion. Riding off was a part of my dream wedding, so Durban’s making it happen again.
Along with the honeymoon in Tahiti. Iverson and Haven will feed the chickens and horses, the barn cats that are no longer kittens, and Wolf, our border collie, that the rescue swore was a blue heeler.
My groom, dressed much like the day we rode off together last year, swings onto Hailstorm and pats his withers. “Ready, wife?”
“Ready, husband.”
He rides Hailstorm in a wide circle, and just like a year ago, he swoops me into his arms. My shoes stay on, and my dress drapes over the side with my legs.
“Hang on, Belle. I’ve got you.”
“I know,” I say, and I cling to my husband as we ride off into the sunset.
_____
Thank you so much for reading Durban and Campbell’s story!
There are still some Foster House bachelors left, but that’s going to change when Cruz catches a quiet baker busting a move in the early morning hours. He knows she’s a cupcake worth unwrapping and he’s determined to prove that the heat between them won’t burn them both in Whiskey Flirt.
Join Durban and Campbell on their first real date after he rescues her from her ex’s wedding in a bonus epilogue.