Epilogue
Tarryn
New Year’s Eve arrives on the breath of rain.
By late afternoon, the sky hangs low and pewter, and the air has that damp chill that sneaks under jackets and cuffs.
The snow from Christmas is gone except for hard little piles of ice in the shadows that look more like old sugar than winter.
The courtyard off the tasting room is strung with white lights, heat lamps glowing, their metal chimneys flickering gold.
From inside the tasting room, the low thrum of music spills into the night.
Laughter follows. The scent of mulled wine drifts out the open doors—orange, cinnamon, cloves.
It feels like the whole town is here. Paradise knows how to gather when a year runs out.
Declan finds me as I’m checking on the bar, his coat collar turned up, his hair still damp from the mist. He looks like a man who gave away Christmas to everyone else and got tonight in return. When he slides a hand around my waist, the noise fades until it’s just him.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You ready to dance, or do I need to bribe your staff to let you go?”
I smile up at him. “You can try, but they like me better than you.”
“Not possible,” he says, and then the band kicks into a lively song, and I let him lead me through the crowd.
The tasting room hums—people in sequins and boots, flutes clinking, the floor vibrating to the bass.
Trinity waves from behind the register, Ryker’s already found the bar, and Beckett’s pretending he doesn’t know the lyrics to the song everyone else is singing.
Mom stands near the doors with Dad, her arm looped through his.
He’s in a dark suit, no tie, and for once he looks relaxed.
Declan spins me once, pulling me back against his chest. “This is our kind of chaos,” he says near my ear.
“Controlled,” I say.
“Organized fun.”
“Barely,” I tease.
We’re still laughing when the music cuts. A soft hush ripples through the room as Dad steps toward the small platform we built last year for announcements and toasts. He doesn’t tap a glass. He doesn’t need to. When Trace Paradise stands up, people listen.
He waits for the murmurs to fade, then clears his throat. “All right,” he says. “You all know I’m not one for speeches. Usually I leave that to the kids.”
“Not true!” someone shouts, and laughter breaks out.
Dad smiles, that easy, worn smile that comes with time and weather.
“This vineyard has been my life since the day my father handed me a shovel and told me to plant what I believed in. I’ve had the privilege of working beside my brother, my wife, my children, and all of you who’ve made Paradise Hill what it is. ”
The room goes still again, that kind of silence where even the wine seems to hold its breath.
“But,” he continues, “it’s time for me to admit something everyone else already knows.” He looks toward me. “The one running this place—keeping it alive, keeping it growing—isn’t me anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
Dad raises his glass. “It’s her. My daughter, Tarryn.
She’s done the work—made the calls, brought the vineyard back after fire and frost—and led this team with more grace and grit than I can claim.
I talked it over with my brother: it’s time to step back and let the next generation lead.
This will be my last year as head of Paradise Hill Family Estate. ”
There’s a stunned beat of silence, then the room erupts. Cheers, applause, people clapping and stomping their feet. I blink hard, caught between pride and disbelief.
He lifts his glass again. “To Tarryn!”
The cheer crests and for a second I want the floorboards to split and swallow me whole—brief, impossible mercy.
Declan’s hand finds mine, warm and steady, grounding me in the roar that follows—cheers, whoops, shouts that make the rafters shake. Trinity screams so loud Ryker winces and plugs his ears. Beckett pulls me into a hug before I can catch my breath.
“About damn time,” Ryker calls out, raising his glass.
“Finally admitting what we’ve all known,” someone else says.
Mom comes to stand beside Dad, her arm slipping through his again. “We couldn’t be prouder,” she says, her eyes glossy.
Elise races over and hugs me—my right hand since harvest, the only person who can read my scribbles at a glance. “We did it! It’s going to be ours.”
I hold her tight. “You can’t quit on me. I need you now more than ever.”
“No way!”
Dad comes over and puts his arms around me. “You’ve been ready for a while. I’ll be here for one more year, and Paradise Hill is in your hands.”
“I hope I can do it justice.”
He shrugs it off. “You will. You’ll have Elise taking over for her dad, your brothers behind you, and your mom and me on the sidelines. I don’t have a doubt you’ll be successful.”
I launch into his arms. “Thank you, Dad.”
People I don’t even know congratulate me, and the whole time Declan’s hand stays clasped in mine, feeding me the confidence to move forward.
“Speech!” Julio yells from the bar, and half the crowd joins in.
I shake my head, flustered, but they won’t let it go. Beckett gives me a gentle push toward the platform. I glance at Declan, who grins and mouths, you’ve got this.
I take a step forward, heart pounding, and the crowd quiets just enough.
“Thank you,” I manage, breath catching on the word.
“I don’t know what to say except—thank you for believing in this place.
For coming back time and again. For showing up tonight.
Paradise Hill isn’t just the vines—it’s every one of you standing here. ”
I pause as a few people cheer again. “My great-great-great-grandfather built something incredible. Every generation has made big improvements. My goal will be to keep it alive—and maybe make it better. And I couldn’t do that without my family, or without all of you.
So let’s raise a glass. To the vineyard.
To the new year—because it’s not done with us yet.
And to everyone who calls this place home. ”
“Paradise Hill!” someone yells, and glasses lift everywhere.
“Paradise Hill!” the crowd echoes.
Champagne sparkles in the air. People rush in to hug me, shake my hand, kiss my cheek. There’s laughter, tears, congratulations from every direction. Ryker pulls me into a bear hug and nearly knocks me off my feet, and Trinity kisses my cheek again, whispering, “You deserve this.”
Beckett’s grin is wide and proud. “You’ve earned every bit of it.”
The roar folds over me like warmth from the heaters. I’ve been steering this ship for years. Tonight, the wheel’s in my hands in daylight. Mine.
When I finally make it back to Declan, I’m breathless, my heart still running wild.
He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “I told you,” he says quietly. “They all see it now. You’re already leading them—you just needed the title to catch up.”
I laugh, still blinking tears away. “It doesn’t feel real yet.”
“It will,” he says. “And when it does, remember this—none of them made you who you are. You did that on your own.”
Before he can say more, someone grabs my arm. It’s Edna Carmichael from the Paradise Rotary, her sequined scarf sparkling like frost. “Tarryn, sweetheart! Congratulations! I told everyone this place would end up in your hands. Your father must be so proud.”
“Thank you, Edna,” I say, hugging her quickly. “It still feels surreal.”
“Oh, enjoy it,” she says, wagging her glass at me. “Moments like this don’t come twice.” Then she sweeps away toward the buffet line, leaving a trail of glitter and good intentions.
Declan laughs under his breath. “She’s not wrong.”
I look up at him. The lights make his eyes look darker, softer. “It’s been a night,” I say.
“It’s about to get better,” he murmurs.
He takes my hand and leads me out toward the far edge of the courtyard where the crowd thins and the heaters hum like distant bees. The mist has thickened and tiny droplets cling to his hair, glinting in the glow. Beyond the fence, the vineyard stretches like a sleeping sea.
For a moment we just breathe. The music drifts out, slow and sweet, the kind that asks for bare feet and hearts that trust the rhythm.
He pulls me close, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “You were incredible up there,” he says. “Watching you tonight… I’ve never seen anyone own a room like that.”
“It wasn’t about me.”
“It was exactly about you,” he says. “You held that whole room together. You’ve been doing it for years, and now they finally know it.”
The words warm me more than the heaters ever could. I rest my cheek against his shoulder and let the moment sink in—the hum of the lights, the smell of wet stone and wine, the press of his heartbeat under my palm.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower. “I had a plan for how to say this,” he whispers. “I was going to wait until midnight—after the countdown, after the noise. But I’m standing here watching you glow, and I can’t keep it in.”
My heart stumbles. “Declan—”
He draws back just enough so we’re face to face, our foreheads almost touching.
“I don’t have fancy words,” he says quietly.
“But I have this truth. You’re my home, Tarryn.
You’re the peace I didn’t think I’d ever earn.
When I left, I thought I was doing you a favor.
Now I know I was only breaking the one thing that ever felt right. ”
The world narrows until all I can see is the soft rain caught in the lights and the blue-gray of his eyes.
“I don’t ever want to leave again,” he continues, voice rough.
“I want mornings that start with your coffee and nights that end with your laugh. I want the quiet in between. I want the vineyard, the chaos, the family dinners that never stay civil. I want you—every version of you—for the rest of my life.”
His thumb brushes my jaw, gentle as a promise. “So, Tarryn Paradise… will you marry me?”