Epilogue
IRIS
Three weeks later, we are in the town of Lovesbury, where Aiden and Rosa have made their home, and the latter is expecting their second child. Montana in June is breathtaking.
The sky above Lovesbury is the particular blue that only exists at altitude—deep and endless and so clear it makes your chest ache. The air smells of cut grass and wildflowers and the faint sweetness of the linden trees lining the small church's path.
It’s my wedding day. Sunlight pools on the white clapboard walls, warm and generous, the kind of morning that feels like the world is showing off.
I'm standing outside the small white church in a dress I actually chose myself—ivory silk, simple, nothing like the wedding gown I was poured into three weeks ago—and Rosa Sorenson is fussing with my hair while I try not to fidget.
"He disappeared last night," she says, tucking a pin into place. "Aiden said he left around midnight. Didn't say where he was going."
I smile. "He's coming. I know that." I pause. "I'm just wondering what my grumpy mountain man is up to."
Rosa laughs, her hand resting briefly on the soft curve of her belly. She and I have been thick as thieves from the moment we met, which somehow surprises no one.
Two seconds later, a black, nondescript car pulls up to the curb. The door opens and my brother Marco steps out.
I go absolutely still.
He's in a dark suit, his jaw tight the way it always is in public, but his eyes find mine immediately and something in them cracks open in a way I've only ever seen directed at me.
"What are you doing here?" I say, my voice shaking.
He crosses the distance between us in a few long strides. "Who would give you away if not me?"
"But how—" The words disappear as his arms come around me, solid and familiar. I press my face into his shoulder and hold on.
"Your man came to me last night," he says into my hair, his voice rough. "Told me he would simply kidnap me if I didn't agree to be here." A pause. "You can’t know how glad I am that you found him. He loves you very much, Iris."
I pull back and look up at him, eyes wet, and nod. "He does." I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. Marco's hand shoots out to stop me, the way it always has, protecting my make-up. "And he will get very grumpy if I'm late by even one moment."
Marco laughs. It's a rare sound, precious, and I file it away alongside everything else I'm keeping from this morning. Then his arm is in mine and we're walking through the church doors.
The interior is cool and fragrant—lilies and candle wax and old wood—sunlight falling in warm shafts through the windows. The handful of guests turn as I enter. Rosa's already slipping into her seat, dabbing her eyes, with their son Diego by her side.
And there at the end of the aisle is Elias.
My mountain man.
In a dark suit that fits like it was made for him—and knowing Elias, it probably was, because if he was going to do this he was going to do it properly.
He hates dressing up. I know this about him the way I know he takes his tea with too much sugar and reads to fall asleep. He did it for me.
Four men stand beside him, broad and steady, two of whom I recognize. Aiden Sorenson, his jaw set, his eyes soft when they find Rosa in the front row. Adam Shetty from Seattle, bigger and quieter than Elias, another one of his military buddies. The others I don't know yet. But they are his family.
Which means they will be mine now too.
Elias’s green eyes find mine and something moves across his face that he doesn't hide.
Wonder. The same wonder I saw in the amber light of his cabin on the first night, when he thought I wasn't looking.
Three weeks ago, I was Iris Moretti, illegitimate mafia princess who never fit anywhere.
Now I have a teaching job starting in September at Cherry Creek Falls Elementary.
I have a brand-new house there too—our house, his wedding gift to me, a white clapboard with a porch and a garden I'm already planning—ten minutes from town and forty from the cabin we're keeping for weekends.
I have Rosa who already feels like the sister I never had.
I have Marco, here, his arm solid under my hand.
And I have him, my entire world.
I reach the end of the aisle and Marco places my hand in Elias's. His fingers close around mine, warm and certain, as they always are.
"You went and got my brother," I whisper.
"My woman deserves to have her brother by her side on such an important day." His thumb grazes my knuckles. "And I promised myself I would give you every happiness."
I look up at this scarred, grumpy, broken man who carried me out of a church in a hail of bullets and somehow became my home.
"Hi, mountain man," I say.
"Hi, almost wife," he says back.
I grin, my heart fluttering fast.
And just like that, I’m not Iris Moretti—the unwanted, unloved girl—anymore.
I’m Iris Sharif and I have the most delicious wedding gift to give to my mountain man.
Although I might keep it to myself until our wedding night is over. Knowing him, he will treat me like glass if I tell him too soon.
Plus there are all those other letters to get through.