Epilogue
Fourteen Months Later
Azores sand between my toes, wind cooling my face. Seabirds cawing and waves crashing. Snorkeling this morning was incredible. As I push up to my elbows, my bear-man stands up out of the ocean. Dripping swimsuit and a feral grin. Unreal.
Now he’s running this way, about to soak me with a sopping bear hug.
I pretend to wave him off, but I’m not moving.
No way. He pretends to fall on top of me—landing strategically on his right knee—and brackets my shoulders with his forearms. Then he slings water from his thick, soggy curls, and I laugh so hard I can barely breathe.
He distracts me from wriggling away with a kiss on my neck, on my cheek, on my nose.
Wait for it. I always have to wait.
Finally, his lips meet mine, and I melt into the sand. Heat, comfort, thrill—they shoot together, like fireworks under my skin. The first kisses are gentle, soft, like we have nothing but time. And we do. He’s all mine. I get to kiss his juicy lips as much as I want. He never pulls away.
I glance back at the house. He’s not missing another meal on my watch.
“Austin,” I whisper.
Oh. I know better.
His kisses shift from sweet to fiery. Reckless and safe. White-hot and soothing.
I squeeze out the rest of my sentence. “You need food.”
“Later,” he murmurs.
“You must be starving,” I get out between kisses.
Pausing, he reads my face. His smile grows mischievous as his body curls around mine, tucking close like two sides of a puzzle.
Later, his hand finds mine as we slosh to the dry sand from our dip in the ocean.
Austin planned this magnificent island surprise for our honeymoon, and Levi’s friends loaned us their beach house.
Kit made me promise not to be weird about it.
The only payback allowed is to visit them in Colorado after graduation.
I mean, duh. Until then, we’ll live in a cute little closet of an apartment while we save nearly all of Austin’s paychecks for a plot of land of our own.
Oh, and Austin’s proposal? Buckle up. A hangman game that spelled:
MARRY
ME
SOPHIE
I knew the message day two, but he played dumb!
Carried that ring box around in his pocket for days, all smug and sly.
At the end of that week, he told me to dress up but blindsided me and my glittery dress with a field trip to a campsite in the forest, grinning the whole way in a fancy suit.
Kit and Levi were already there and just as overdressed as we were.
He asked me under a sky full of stars, next to a campfire, while being mercilessly pelted with unsolicited commentary from our best friends.
Somehow, he convinced a Michelin-starred restaurant in Dallas to let him take food to go, and we even toasted with something bubbly.
It couldn’t have been a better blend of everything I love—fancy dresses and firewood, fine dining and s’mores. And the friends who stuck like glue.
I squeeze his giant hand, still slick from the ocean as we shuffle through sand and grass up to the house.
This life. This man. It’s more than I could have dreamed up for myself.
I want him happy, with his people nearby, a home to grow into, and work for his hands when his mind gets loud.
And I think a couple of those good things God planned for me involve helping to make that happen.
So, after months of convincing, Austin’s finally come around to what I think is the perfect compromise—country living where land is cheap, plus traveling and adventuring with all the money we save.
We’ll be minutes from his family and two hours from an amazing international airport.
But I don’t need a boarding pass—or even a Jeep—to keep me free.
Not when I have a God who writes wild stories and made me his.
And … okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve fallen hard for Graham.
They don’t make plans two weeks out and then bail to watch Netflix.
It’s casserole potlucks all day and lake bonfires all night.
Aprons, sure, but no bonnets. And the boating, two-stepping, four-wheeling, and cliff-jumping.
What’s not to like? I even learned to drive a tractor last summer.
Farmer Austin might even top Beach Austin.
He landed an engineering job close enough to home and flexible enough for travel. Kit and I found new counselors who love the Snorkel as much as we do, but Chelsea’s been the real second-mom game-changer. And Archie? Forever Austin’s man-crush.
Austin twists the hose spigot at the house and sends a spray at my face. I squeal, but he pulls me back with a laugh and washes the sand off my feet. Some things never change. But some do.
Like this: I transferred out of Mayberry.
Shocking, I know. But God’s plotting was flawless—send Sophie to Texas and surprise her with Austin, found family, and hymns.
Then God dropped the perfect degree in my head—event planning.
New friends, a thousand things to juggle, all the fun.
Planning my wedding sealed it. I’m obsessed.
Austin couldn’t be happier that, as he says, “life of the party” really is a degree.
And I couldn’t be happier that the Praise and Prayer spirit is alive and well at my new school—me, a friend with her drum, and whoever God sends through the door.
Another shock: I got married at twenty, and both of my parents actually came for the thing.
Low bar, maybe, but it’s real progress. Austin negotiated with Mom by signing a pre-nup.
I still want to be mad at him for agreeing to that, but how could I?
My dad couldn’t even sit down with Austin before the proposal.
Just sent me a wire, like paying for the wedding was his contribution.
But then he showed. With his new wife. Our vows alone were a gospel message, and I’m praying harder than ever it sinks in.
That they see who they are to their Creator.
I have this picture in my head—praising Jesus in Heaven.
All three of us. Whole. I’m clinging to this as our future together.
Inside the beach house, Austin cocoons me in a towel with a kiss on my head. When he pulls meat out of the fridge, I secure the towel around my waist and try to push him out of the kitchen.
He doesn’t budge an inch. “Nope. Making burritos for my woman.”
“You can do that for dinner. I’m making lunch so you can take a nap.”
His sweet little smile. “Are you trying to take care of me, Sparky?”
“Trying. Now gooo.” I push on his stomach.
But he wraps me in his arms like he’s the burrito. “Okay. Thank you. But later I’m taking you on that volcano hike.”
“Only if there’s time,” I argue, tugging on his waistband. A no-no for so long.
I’m rewarded with the most delectable smirk. And a thorough kiss.
My eyelids drag in a slow blink as I return to reality, and off he goes to plop onto the couch.
I curl up at the corner of the sectional and peek at Sophie humming “My Wish.” Can’t believe I’m the guy who gets to hear her hymns echoing off the walls.
God’s the one taking care of her—I just get to tag along and play assistant.
An eager, clumsy son helping his Dad with a favorite project.
In that way, she’s mine—to have and to hold, to chase and to follow Jesus with.
I can’t believe God granted my biggest wish.
The rest? Can’t wait, but it’s just gravy.
Song of the day
“Over And Over” by Ben Rector
The End.