Epilogue
Hadley
Six Months Later…
I’m exhausted, but it’s the best kind of exhaustion. I’m loading up the dishwasher with several dinner plates, glasses, and utensils with a smile on my face.
Several. As in ten place settings.
Sublime West Bed & Breakfast is fully booked, and has been for the last few months. Ever since word started to spread about our new gourmet chef and the sublime––their word, not mine––food he creates, people have been coming in droves, sometimes waiting for weeks to book a room and experience it for themselves.
Foster has reinvigorated this place on every level. Once he got the cast off his leg, he got to work. The walls are freshly painted and wallpapered. The carpet is new, but identical to the stuff my grandfather installed when he built this place. The bannister has been reinforced, sanded and painted with a fresh coat of gloss. All of it done with his own two hands. He paid a roofing company to replace the roof, which I only agreed to if he’d let me pay him back over time.
And thanks to his magic in the kitchen keeping the place filled to capacity, I’ll be able to pay him back within months instead of the years I’d anticipated.
We fall into bed each night, bone-tired and happier than either of us have ever been. I still have a hard time believing this is my life now.
Despite my fears, Foster doesn’t seem to miss playing football. Sure, he misses the comradery of being on a team, being a part of something great. The team went on to win the championship for a second time, and he was there with the guys afterward, celebrating even though he missed out on most of the ride.
He could’ve been there. The higher-ups offered to let him ride out his contract, earning what he was promised while cheering on his team from the sidelines. While he can move around easily and doesn’t even limp, he just can’t run the way he did before. But he refused their offer, deciding instead to throw himself into his dream of being a chef. And instead of trying to open his own restaurant, he threw his efforts into the B&B, dazzling our guests with his talents and making this place the success it is today.
As I load the last plate into the washer, arms circle me from behind as soft lips skate over the back of my neck.
“Hey,” I breathe, wrapping my arms over his.
“Hey, baby. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starved,” I say, turning in his arms to press a kiss to his lips. “The roasted duck smelled amazing. The guests are lucky I didn’t drool all over their plates while I was serving.”
He smiles and pulls me into the now-empty dining room, saying, “Well, good thing I set a table for two.”
He moves to the side, revealing what he’s done. Two place settings rest on the table, one at the end and the other on the left next to it. Candles glow in tall, shiny candlesticks surrounded by fresh flowers. There’s champagne on ice, and soft music surrounds us from the speakers he installed in the ceiling last month.
“When did you do all this?” I ask as he leads me over to a chair and holds it while I slip into the seat.
“I have my ways,” he says, kissing my cheek before straightening. “Don’t move.”
He heads back to the kitchen, then reemerges a moment later with two plates filled with roasted duck, asparagus, and some of the rolls he baked from scratch earlier for the guests. Setting the plates down, he grabs the champagne and pours us each a glass. Setting the bottle back in the ice bucket, he hands me one with a smile.
“Are we celebrating something?” I ask before taking a sip of the bubbly, crisp liquid.
He just shrugs and waits, nodding toward my plate. I cut into the duck and slide the bite into my mouth. My eyes fall closed, and a moan rumbles in my chest before escaping through my parted lips. Foster chuckles, and I feel my face heat as I realize how sexual the noise sounded.
Foster leans over to kiss the side of my neck, whispering, “Don’t ever change, love.”
He straightens and turns around, giving me his back, but doesn’t move toward his chair. A few seconds tick by, and when I swallow the bite I’ve been chewing, I take another sip of champagne to wash it down and clear my throat.
“What are you doing? Is everything okay?”
“When I played football, there was nothing more exhilarating than a first and goal. The end zone in sight. A single play could score, meaning the difference between winning and losing. But right now, in this moment, I’m more excited and energized than in any moment I ever spent on the field,” he says, his voice deep and husky.
I’m frozen in my chair, wondering where this is going when he slowly turns to face me, adding, “And it’s all because of you.”
My wide eyes sting with the need to blink as he drops to one knee beside me. I forget to breathe as my gaze drops to his hands, watching as he flips open the lid of a small velvet box. Nestled in white satin rests a ring set with a square diamond surrounded by dozens of tinier gems. Tears spill over as I lift my gaze to meet Foster’s, his own tears tracking down his cheeks.
“I knew from a young age that I’d never fall in love. I’d never get married, never have kids, never put myself or anyone else through the pain and heartbreak I suffered as a child. And then I met you.
“You taught me that love is a beautiful thing to be cherished and honored. That nothing compares to holding the one you adore above all others in your arms. That loving someone doesn’t have to be painful and doesn’t have to end in devastation. You taught me the real meaning of the word, Hadley, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I’ve learned. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and being loved by you.
“I want to have daughters with your beautiful hair and pretty blushing cheeks or sons with your gray eyes and charming sense of humor. And if you don’t want kids, that’s okay, too. I’ll happily keep you all to myself for the rest of our days, living and working in this place we’ve built together.
“Hadley West, please say you’ll make me the happiest man alive. Say you’ll marry me.”
I can’t speak. I suck in a shuddering breath in an attempt to answer him, but all that comes out is a keening cry as I launch myself out of my chair and into his arms. He’s not prepared for it and tumbles backward, landing on his back with a grunt with me stretched over him.
I press kisses all over his face at a rapid-fire pace until his hand slides into my hair, gripping it firmly and pulling my mouth to his. He rolls as we kiss, pushing me onto my back before settling between my thighs. Breaking away, he pushes himself up and stares down at me with those bright, loving eyes.
“Is that a yes?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Joyful laughter barks out of him, and he dips his head, kissing me until every inch of my skin burns with the fire of our love. Then he’s gone, on his feet and gripping my left hand to pull me up next to him. Holding onto it, he pulls the ring free with his teeth before tossing the box aside. I start crying again as he slides the cool metal onto my finger. I cry harder when he lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles, his gaze locked on mine.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my skin. “Thank you for saving me. For teaching me how to be loved and how to love in return. Thank you for making me the happiest man on the planet.”
“Don’t thank me,” I whisper. “You taught me all of those things, too. I love you, Foster.”
“I’m going to love you forever,” he whispers back. “Forever and always.”
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