Epilogue
IVY
SIX MONTHS LATER
The scent of fresh paint hung in the air as I stepped into what would soon be Wildflower. The afternoon sun gilded the newly installed range hood, the stainless steel counters still wrapped in protective film. All it needed were the finishing touches, and in a few weeks, it would finally open its doors. My dream, my restaurant.
Cameron had been my rock through it all, helping me navigate permits, funding, and all the chaos that came with starting a business. He'd been patient, supportive, and, surprisingly, even cheerful. Well, cheerful for Cameron. It was like watching a storm cloud reluctantly make room for a bit of sunshine.
His arms encircled me from behind, his chin resting on my head. "It suits you," he murmured. "All fire and shine."
I turned in his embrace, brushing flour from his shirt collar. It was a remnant of last night's disastrous but endearing attempt at baking me croissants. "You're getting domestic, Cameron."
His nose wrinkled, but the bond between us thrummed with contentment. "Don't spread that rumor. I have a reputation to uphold."
Tonight, he'd insisted on taking me out to celebrate the finalization of the menu. After a short trip home to get dressed, I'd expected dinner at Amalfi, but when he drove us back to the restaurant site, I was confused.
"Why are we stopping here?" I asked, glancing at him.
He just grinned, that rare, almost boyish smile that always made my heart skip a beat. "You'll see."
He led me inside, and I gasped. The space, which had been a construction zone just hours earlier, was transformed. A hundred candles flickered from strategically placed locations across the room, casting a soft, romantic glow. A table for two was set up in the center of the room, complete with a bouquet of my favorite wildflowers.
"Cameron," I breathed, turning to give him a curious look. "What is all this?"
"A celebration," he said simply, pulling out a chair for me. "For you, Chef."
As I sat down, I noticed something else, the kitchen was spotless, but not empty. There were pots simmering on the newly installed stove, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. It wasn't just a dinner. He'd cooked for me.
My jaw dropped. "You cooked?"
"I may have hijacked your kitchen," he admitted, cheeks flushing as he presented slightly charred scallops. "Happy almost-opening night, Chef."
I laughed, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "You're full of surprises, Fitzgerald."
The meal was, well, it was edible. The scallops were rubbery. The beurre blanc had split. I devoured every bite because it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. Because he'd made it for me. Because he'd tried.
When he produced chocolate mousse from the fridge, which judging by the perfect quenelle, was store-bought, I caught his wrist. "You cheat."
His laugh faded as he suddenly turned serious. "Ivy," he began, his voice trembling with emotion. "These past six months have been the best of my life. You've brought light and laughter into my world, and I don't want to imagine a future without you."
My breath caught as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He got down on one knee, his eyes locked on mine.
"Will you marry me?"
Tears streamed down my face as I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Yes, of course, yes!"
He slipped the ring onto my finger, a stunning diamond that sparkled in the candlelight. Then he stood, pulling me into his arms and kissing me deeply. At that moment, everything in my life felt perfect.
ONE YEAR LATER
The wedding was held at my restaurant, now a bustling, successful spot loved by locals and food critics alike. It was a small and intimate gathering, with Denver as his best man and Katie as my matron of honor. Only our closest friends and family were attending the ceremony. Despite my brief flirtation with fame, this event was not going to be publicized. The space was decorated with candles and wildflowers, the same as the night Cameron had proposed.
I stood in the back room, taking deep breaths as Katie adjusted my veil.
"You look stunning," she said, her eyes misty. "Cameron's going to turn feral when he sees you."
I grinned, glancing at the mirror. The dress was simple but elegant, with delicate lace and a flowing skirt. It felt like me.
As the string quartet began playing the first notes, I walked down the aisle, my heart pounding and my hands trembling around the bouquet of wildflowers. My parents sat in the front row, with Mom dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, and Dad watching me with pride. Cameron stood at the makeshift altar, his usual grumpy expression replaced by one of pure awe.
When I reached him, he took my hands, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
The ceremony was short but meaningful. When it came time for our vows, Cameron spoke first, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
"Ivy, you've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You've shown me that it's okay to be vulnerable, and that love is worth the risk. I promise to stand by you, to support you, and to love you for the rest of my life."
Tears streamed down my face as I began my vows. "Cameron, you've taught me that strength doesn't mean doing everything alone. You've shown me what it means to trust, to lean on someone, and to fight for what we believe in. I promise to stand by your side, to challenge you when you need it, and to love you, wolf and all, for the rest of my days."
The officiant pronounced us husband and wife, and as Cameron pulled me into a kiss, the room erupted in applause. Brody whooped and tossed a handful of edible gold leaf confetti that stuck to Cameron's tuxedo shoulders. "Now you match your wallet!"
The reception was a blur of laughter, dancing, and toasts. At one point, Katie dragged Cameron onto the dance floor, much to his feigned reluctance.
"Come on, Cameron, dance with us! You're not allowed to be a grump at your own wedding," she teased.
He rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm not a grump. I'm selectively cheerful."
I laughed, my heart full as I watched him reluctantly join in. By the end of the night, even he couldn't resist the joy in the air. As we shared our first dance as husband and wife, I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"We did it," I whispered.
"We did," he replied, his voice soft. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
SIX YEARS LATER
I stood at the counter, chopping fruit for breakfast, while Cameron manned the coffee maker. The sound of giggles filled the air as our twin daughters, Lily and Iris, chased each other around the table.
"Daddy!" Iris shrieked, dangling upside down from her chair. "Lily says I can't put syrup on my eggs!"
"Because it's disgusting," Lily informed us primly, exactly like her father when critiquing under-seasoned stock.
Cameron slid a pancake onto her plate. "Your mother puts hot sauce on ice cream. We pick our battles."
They pouted but reluctantly settled down, returning to their coloring books. Cameron handed me a cup of coffee, his arm sliding around my waist as he pressed a kiss to my temple.
"Morning, sunshine," he murmured.
"Morning, grump," I teased, earning a mock glare.
Life was busy, but it was good. My restaurant had become a beloved staple in Huntington Harbor, and Cam's Comfy Cuisine continued to thrive, expanding into frozen meals. We'd found a balance between work and family, and though it wasn't always easy, it was always worth it.
That afternoon, as we watched the girls build a sandcastle at the beach, Cameron's hand found mine. His wedding band was warm from the sun.
"Wildflower got its third Michelin star this week," he said casually.
I gaped at him. "Since when do you follow food reviews?"
"Since it's yours." He kissed my knuckles, the way he had when we were just a chef and a CEO playing at being in love. "Proud of you, Mrs. Fitzgerald."
The tide rushed in, erasing the twins' castle. They barely noticed, already chasing seagulls down the shore.
"They're so different," I mused, leaning against Cameron.
"Yeah, but they're both stubborn as hell," he said dryly, though his tone was affectionate.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Wonder where they get that from."
He smirked, his arm tightening around me. "No idea."
As we watched our daughters play, I felt a sense of contentment I hadn't known was possible.
Cameron turned to me, his expression soft. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?" I asked, surprised.
"For giving me this," he said, gesturing to the girls, to us. "For not giving up on me, even when I tried to push you away."
I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You're my mate, Cameron. My forever. And I'm not letting anything or anyone ever come between us."
He kissed me then, his lips lingering against mine. As we pulled away, Iris's voice rang out, calling for us to watch her do a somersault.
"Come on," I said, standing and taking his hand. "Let's go cheer her on."
Thank you for reading Ivy and Cameron's story.
Check out Levi and Krista's story in the next book: Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fixer