Epilogue
Kennedi stood at the full-length mirror in the bridal suite they’d set up in the main house, and for a moment she looked at herself.
The ranch had been taken over. Voices everywhere, someone’s heels on the hardwood, her mother directing traffic she hadn’t been asked to direct. It was loud and real and exactly what she needed because the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat.
She was about to marry her best friend. The person she called first. The person who showed up before she finished asking. The person she’d been trying not to need and had needed anyway, completely, without apology.
Unequivocally.
“Kenny.” Her mother appeared in the mirror behind her, already crying, which she had promised she would not do until the ceremony. “Look at you, baby.”
Kennedi reached back and took her hand without turning around. “Mama, you said you weren’t going to cry.”
“I lied.” Her mother squeezed her fingers. “I’m allowed. I’m your mother and you look so beautiful.”
Shadow appeared in the doorway, RJ on her hip, pointing at Kennedi. He’d been passed between aunties all morning and seemed unbothered by all of it, which tracked — he was his father’s son.
“He wanted to see you before,” Shadow said.
Kennedi turned and held out her arms. Shadow transferred him over carefully, mindful of the dress, and RJ grabbed her face and gave her a kiss with extra slobber.
“Son.” She laughed, wiping her face a little. “I love you too.”
He looked up at her with Rolani’s eyes and her mouth, and she felt the same thing she felt every time she looked at him — that particular fullness that lived permanently somewhere in her heart now.
“You ready for me to marry your daddy?” she whispered.
RJ blew a bubble.
“Same,” she said.
Shadow took him back, still laughing, and Kennedi turned to the mirror one last time. She smoothed the front of her dress, adjusted one earring, took a breath that went all the way down.
Running had never been about Rolani. It had been about whether she believed she deserved to be loved this way.
She believed it now.
He left no room for confusion.
A knock at the door. Her father’s voice, lowly filtered through the cracked door. “Kenny. It’s time.”
She checked the Rolex Rolani had gifted her, picked up her bouquet, exhaled once, and went to meet him.
When she opened the door, her father saw her and stopped walking. His hand went to his heart, and a bright smile graced his face. He’d been that way her whole life — not a man of many words but a man whose face said everything.
“Daddy.” She touched his arm. “Don’t you start. Mommy was already crying.”
“I’m not starting anything.” His voice was rough. He offered his arm, and she took it. “I’m looking at my beautiful daughter.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Kennedi, I’m proud of you. I’m happy for you.” He placed a kiss on her forehead before pulling her veil down. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
They walked together toward the ranch, the violin carrying My First Love by Avant across the open air. Her heart melted as she smiled at his song choice. He had been adamant about picking the song she’d walk down to him in. She was glad she trusted him.
At the top of the aisle, she paused.
At the end of it, Rolani was waiting.
She started walking.
He had been composed all morning.
Through getting dressed, through Giovanni straightening his tie three times because he couldn’t stop moving, through Robin telling him to breathe like he was the one who needed the reminder. He had been composed, focused, present, and fine.
And then the music shifted.
And the doors opened.
And Kennedi stepped into the light at the end of that aisle with her father’s arm in hers and a bouquet of white flowers and a dress he was going to enjoy peeling off, and every bit of composure he’d been holding onto all morning left his body at once.
He didn’t try to get it back.
She was walking toward him. That was the only thing that existed.
He had waited his whole life without knowing he was waiting. And then he knew. And then he waited some more while she figured it out. He had waited because he knew, the way he knew everything that mattered, that she was worth every single day of it.
And here she came.
He couldn’t see her face yet, but he prayed she was just as happy as he was to be here among the people they loved, promising eternity to each other.
My First Love was his choice for her. He’d decided on it months ago and hadn’t told a soul.
Her father placed her hand in his.
“Take care of my daughter,” he said quietly.
“Every day,” Rolani said. “I promise you that.”
Her father nodded and stepped back.
And then it was just them.
Rolani took her hand and placed a kiss on it before lifting her veil. Tears sat at the rim of her eyes. He shook his head and wiped a little leftover slobber from their son off her cheek. She shrugged and smiled.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “You look beautiful, baby.”
“Thank you.” She bent her finger, telling him to come closer, and whispered in his ear.
She’d turned into his little freak. Sometimes he was afraid he’d have tie her to a tree, but he was never complaining.
“Fa sho, Ken doll,” he said with a wink. “But first forever.”
Rolani spoke first.
“Kennedi.” He took a breath and looked at her like the rest of the ranch had stopped existing.
“I knew before you did. I need you to know that. I knew on that plane before you said ten words to me. I knew when you were trying your hardest not to look at me.” A small laugh from the guests. “I been knowing.”
He brought her hands up and held them against his chest.
“You ran. I let you go because you needed to. But I want you to know I was never worried. Not once. Because some things are true whether you’re ready for them or not.” He paused. “You’re my truth, Ken. You have been since the beginning.”
His thumb moved across her knuckles.
“I want to thank you. For coming back. For staying. For RJ. For showing up for my family before you even agreed to be part of it. For letting me take care of you even when it made you uncomfortable.” He smiled at her.
“For being stubborn enough to make me work for it and smart enough to know it was worth it.”
He touched her face.
“I love you and promise to never make you feel like you have to run again because there is nothing in this world you could show me that would make me love you less. You are my home, Kennedi. And I’m going to spend every day making sure you never forget it. That’s my word to you.”
The ranch went silent.
Then it was her turn.
She had written hers at the kitchen table at two in the morning while RJ slept and Rolani was in the shower, and the house was still. She’d written three versions, thrown two away, and kept the one that scared her the most to say out loud. Which meant it was the right one.
She looked at him and began.
“The wordsmith in me had no words for the man you are.” Her voice was clear and steady.
“I tried. Lord knows I tried. I opened a blank page more times than I can count, trying to explain what you did to my life, and every time I came up empty. Because you are not something I can report on, document, or find the right angle for. You just are. And I had to learn how to be okay with that.”
She exhaled.
“I used to think needing people was a weakness. I thought the women who loved loudly and needed openly and let people in without a checklist were setting themselves up. I watched love complicate things, and I decided I was going to be smarter than that.” She paused. “I was not smarter than that.”
Laughter, warm and knowing.
“You didn’t ask me to need you. You showed up and were so consistently, stubbornly, relentlessly yourself that I ran out of reasons to keep my guard up.” She squeezed his hands. “You say I feel like home, but the truth is you’re my home. The reason home feels the way it does. Like mine. Like ours.”
She looked at him the way she had in that hospital room. The way she had at the pillar. The way she always looked at him when she was done pretending she wasn’t fully, completely in this.
“I used to be afraid of a love like this. Big and certain and not asking permission. And now I can’t imagine being afraid of anything you’re part of.
” Her voice dropped. “You are the best thing that found me. And I promise to stop running. To show up the way you show up. To build with you and fight for you and choose you every single day, especially on the days it’s hard, because you chose me on the hard days first.” She smiled at him, full and unguarded.
“I love you, Rolani. More than I thought I was capable of. And I have so much more to give.”
He was crying. He wasn’t hiding it.
The officiant prompted them to say I do. Rolani slid the ring onto her finger, and she slid one onto his. When the officiant said he could kiss his bride, Rolani didn’t wait for the sentence to finish before he pulled her close and smothered her lips with his.
The ranch erupted.
Robin had two fingers in his mouth, whistling.
Monroe was on her feet. Shadow was crying.
Spirit was trying not to. Giovanni had his arm around Paige and was grinning.
Mama Walters had RJ on her lap, dabbing her eyes with one hand and holding him steady with the other while he kicked his legs and clapped like everyone around him.
Rolani pulled back from the kiss and pressed his forehead to Kennedi’s, both of them breathing.
“Mrs. Pracher,” he said quietly.
She smiled against his mouth. “That’s me.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her again, brief and certain. “It is. Officially. You’ve always been that.”
They turned to face their people, and the celebration swallowed them whole — hugs and tears and Robin pulling Rolani into what started as a headlock and ended as an embrace, Monroe attaching herself to Kennedi’s side, holding on.
They finally made it through the congratulations and hugs and into the hallway, where she pulled him into the nearest room. The door barely closed before she was looking up at him in the dark, fingers already at his belt.
“Ken.” His voice was low. Warning and wanting at the same time.
“You said forever first.” She tilted her head. “I…we did that, Mr. Pracher.”
He didn’t argue. There was no version of himself that was going to stop her, and they both knew it.
She carefully unhooked his belt and freed his dick.
She pressed her lips to the tip, a tease, and felt him pull in a sharp breath above her.
“I need to beat my record,” she said.
“Ken.” The word came out strained. “Don’t be on that shit.”
“What?” She looked up at him, all innocence. “You don’t want the people to hear you sing my name?”
She wrapped her lips around his dick and took him deep, gagging on purpose, and felt his whole body shudder. His hand came down and gathered the lace of her veil in his fist — soft, careful, even now — and she felt him try to hold himself together.
He was not going to hold himself together.
“Fuck, Ken.” His head dropped back.
She worked him slowly, then not so slowly, deliberate the whole way through, listening to every sound he made and adjusting her approach accordingly. She knew this man. Her man. She knew exactly where his composure resided and how to take it from him. It was her favorite thing to do.
“Kennedi, baby.” His grip tightened in her veil. “Slow down. Shit.”
She did not slow down.
A few seconds later, he was shaking, saying her name in pieces, his whole body giving her what she came for. She stayed with him through all of it, steady, until he stilled.
She sat back on her heels and smiled up at her husband.
“Daddy,” she said, “I cannot wait for the honeymoon.”
He looked at her — his woman, his wife, still in her wedding dress rising from a closet floor — and shook his head slowly.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Before I keep you in here all night.”
Five minutes later, they were back, Kennedi touching up her lipstick in the reflection of her phone while Rolani straightened his jacket and tried to look like a man who hadn't just lost his composure in a closet on his wedding day.
“I don’t want to know,” Robin said, spotting them looking suspicious.
“Then don’t ask,” Rolani said.
The DJ slid into Anthony Hamilton’s Best of Me and the dance floor filled back up slowly and warmly. Rolani found his wife and pulled her in, one hand on her stomach, the other holding hers against his chest, swaying while the song did what it was supposed to do.
“You good?” he asked into her hair.
She closed her eyes and let the moment settle — the music, the warm air, the sound of their people around them.
Pearl was somewhere in the gold of that Texas sky, watching her boys finally rest. Kennedi opened her eyes and looked out at all of them — her people, his people, theirs now — and let the night be exactly what it was.
Perfect.
The docuseries was in post. Idle Hands was almost done. And Kennedi Pracher — she was still getting used to that, still felt it land new every time someone said it — had a life she’d almost been too afraid to want.
She leaned back into her husband and let him hold her.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m perfect.”