Epilogue
One Year Later
The last thing I take off the wall is the little framed photo of the four of us standing in the pasture behind the ranch house.
Matty has an arm around Shelby’s shoulders. Charli’s hat is tipped back on her head, squinting into the sun. I’m standing in front of them with my hands on my hips like I own the place.
Which, in a way, I guess I do now.
I hold the frame for a beat, running my thumb over the edge before placing it gently into the box with the rest of my things.
Then I straighten and take a slow look around my office.
For a year and a half, this little room has been my world.
The desk, where I learned how to juggle schedules and events and cranky guests. The window that overlooks the courtyard, where I used to sit during lunch breaks.
I smile faintly.
The Belicourt has been good to me.
It gave me independence.
Confidence.
And Porter.
My chest warms at that thought.
But today is the last day.
Matty finally gave me the green light last month after we finished the final plans. The county approved the permits, and in two weeks, we’ll be breaking ground on what will become the Wildfire Guest Ranch on the southern end of Wildhaven Storm.
My ranch.
Our ranch.
The idea still makes my stomach flip with excitement.
Guests will come stay in rustic cabins, ride horses through the valley, and learn a little rodeo if they’re brave enough. Families, couples, tourists from cities who have never seen stars the way you can see them out at Wildhaven.
It’s going to be incredible.
I slide the lid onto the box and tuck it under my arm.
“All right,” I murmur to the empty room. “Let’s go.”
I step out into the lobby, and I’m barely halfway across it before someone calls my name.
“Miss Storm!”
The bellhop jogs over and gives me a wide grin. “Good luck out there,” he says. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks, Tyler.”
A housekeeper I recognize from the second floor stops me next.
“Congratulations,” she says warmly.
“Thank you.”
One by one, they stop me as I cross the lobby. Valets. Servers. The concierge. People I’ve worked beside every day.
Each goodbye makes my chest a little tighter.
Then I hear heels clicking behind me.
“Well,” a familiar voice says, “look at you.”
I turn to find Diana standing there with her arms folded neatly across her chest.
For a long time after Porter and I went public with our relationship, she barely spoke to me.
Actually … barely is generous.
She glared.
A lot.
But eventually, things softened.
It probably didn’t hurt that once she finally gave up hope of catching Porter’s attention, she started dating again. A nice accountant who apparently worships the ground she walks on.
Last month, she announced her engagement.
And I couldn’t have been happier for her.
Diana looks at the box in my arms and gives a small nod. “So, it’s official,” she says.
“Today’s the day.”
She studies me for a second before her lips curve slightly. “Well,” she says, “good luck, Harleigh.”
The fact that she uses my name causes my eyes to mist. We’ve come a long way since she showed me around on my first day.
“Thank you, Diana.”
Then she adds quietly, “You’re going to do great things.”
My throat tightens a little.
I nod and continue across the lobby.
When I press the elevator button, the doors slide open almost instantly.
“Good afternoon!”
Calliope’s cheerful voice makes me grin immediately.
She’s standing inside the elevator in her perfectly pressed uniform, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she beams at me.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite manager,” she chirps.
I step inside with my box. “Hi, Calliope. Basement, please.”
Her smile falters slightly when she sees the box.
“Oh no,” she says softly.
I sigh. “Don’t start.”
She presses the B button for the basement level.
The doors close with a quiet ding.
I glance over at her just as she sniffles. “Calliope.”
She wipes her nose quickly. “I’m not crying,” she insists.
“You are so, and if you don’t stop, you’ll get me started.”
“You’re leaving!”
“I’m not leaving, leaving,” I say. “I’m just changing jobs.”
“You’re still abandoning me.”
I laugh. “I’ll still be around all the time,” I promise.
She sniffles again. “I’m still sad.”
The elevator dings softly as it reaches the basement.
When the doors open, I shift the box and wrap my free arm around her in a tight hug.
“I’m going to miss you the most,” I admit.
Her arms squeeze me back fiercely. “You’d better visit,” she says.
“All the time.”
I pull away and step out into the hallway.
Porter’s office door is at the end of the corridor.
He’s finishing a meeting in one of the conference rooms on the sixth floor with the man who’ll be taking over my position.
I nudge the door open quietly.
His office smells like him.
I set my box down on one of the navy chairs by his desk.
Then I slip into his private bathroom.
If I’m going to do this goodbye properly … I need a quick adjustment.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out into the hallway with the new social events and conference planning manager trailing behind me.
“She’ll show you the scheduling system tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Thank you, Mr. Garrison.”
We shake hands before I head to my elevator. I take it down to my office.
When the doors open, I step inside.
And stop.
Harleigh Storm is sitting behind my desk.
She’s wearing her burgundy blazer and her name tag.
And nothing else.
A wicked grin spreads across her face.
“Miss Storm,” I say evenly.
“Mr. Garrison,” she replies sweetly.
“What can I do for you?”
She stands and smooths the front of her blazer.
“I just wanted to come down and thank you for the opportunity,” she says in an exaggeratedly professional tone.
I lean against the edge of the desk. “Oh?”
“I learned so much here.” Her eyes sparkle. “And I wanted to return my blazer.”
I push off the desk and walk toward her slowly. “Is that right?”
She nods. “Company property.”
She slides the blazer off her shoulders and hands it to me.
I toss it aside, take her into my arms, and walk her into the private suite.
Then, I make sure Miss Storm has a proper send-off.