Epilogue One Year Later
Epilogue
One Year Later
I groaned, clutching the dark gold mess of Eva’s hair. “We have to go, bee girl.”
Eva used one arm to swipe her tangle over one shoulder. “You want me to stop?”
“No.”
She grinned, crawling back up and fitting her body to mine in a warm, sloppy kiss. I hadn’t slept well in the tent, and drowsiness made the pleasure of her touch harder to resist, especially when she rolled her hips against mine like that.
The alarm sounded.
“Ignore it,” Eva said into my neck, squeezing her thighs against me. I fumbled for the SNOOZE button again.
“Five minutes,” I mumbled, rolling her over and kicking off the sleeping bag.
We didn’t really have five minutes. Blue hour would come and go in a flash, and if we weren’t ready, we wouldn’t make it to the proposal spot by sunrise.
But then Eva wriggled out of her shorts.
With a growl, I sat up and took her by the hips. She rode me with her hands on my shoulders, my face buried in her breasts and my hands at her waist to control the rhythm.
It drove me wild. And she knew it.
“You are resplendent,” I murmured against her skin.
Eva laughed. “You’re easy to please.”
“Hardly.” I moved a hand between us. Despite the chilly mountain morning, my body was overwarm. Eva’s stomach was slicked with sweat. “I have very discerning taste, and you”—I pressed a thumb to the place where our body joined, drawing her gasp—“are exquisite.”
When I circled the same spot, Eva thrust an arm out for balance, knocking into the tent pole with a laugh.
I smirked. “Careful.”
“You’ve gotten cocky,” she panted.
“Cocky, Ev? Really, right now?”
“I don’t see a better time.”
I pressed a smile to her lips. All this time, and still it felt like coming home.
We’d learned to love each other this way before we really knew what we were doing, learning each other by touch and trial and trust. Now my body woke to her like the world to the dawn, aching for warmth.
I was soothed by every familiar curve and groove, by the hush of her voice and the hitch in her breath.
The alarm went off again. Eva smacked it.
I pulled her down to me and we fell into a now-familiar rhythm, the push and pull of our bodies a song I’d never forget so long as I lived. The hum of it lived in my bones.
When she collapsed against my chest, panting and satisfied, my cheeks pulled into a grin.
I loved blue hour.
Eva looked at me. “When do we need to leave?”
“Four alarms ago.”
With a little sound and a nose nuzzle into my chest, Eva rolled away. She unzipped the door to the tent and stuck her head out.
“Got your jacket?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I want food.”
With a smile, I fished out a granola bar from our overnight pack and tossed it her way. We’d pack up the tent on the way back.
To my chagrin, Jack and Esther had beat us to the lookout. Eva felt no shame in her tardiness, waving to Esther with vigor as the little girl bounced on the balls of her feet, waving back.
Sweet kid.
When we reached them, Jack passed me a thermos.
It was too much to hope he’d opted for coffee.
The man had a strong palate for worry, and even after all our talks, I knew he didn’t fully believe the monster would hold back the sprout forever.
He was always pushing tea in my face. Just in case, he said.
I took a sip and smiled my gratitude.
“Okay, they’ll be here any minute. Everyone needs to find their hiding place, and stay there,” Eva said.
Jack lifted an eyebrow. “We know, honeybee. We’ve been here for half an hour waiting on you. What held you up?”
“Would you believe the alarm never went off?” she said, feigning annoyance.
I choked on my tea. Beautiful liar.
At the sound of nearing voices, however, Eva put a finger to her lips and motioned for us to get into position. I caught her by the hand, warming a kiss to the center of her palm. When she pinked, I stepped back into the bush. “Hide,” I mouthed.
Flustered, Eva hurried into the trees, but I didn’t miss the lift of her smile.
The lookout spot was a local secret, situated in a broad strip of trees that overlooked the northernmost tip of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The view stole my breath every time.
For a moment, I felt an itch to reach for gloves I no longer had any need for, but I forced the feeling down and ran my fingers over a soft fern, releasing the dew caught in its leaves. Would I ever get used to this? Touching the world, and letting it touch me?
At the call of a nuthatch, I shivered with pleasure. I hoped not.
I wedged myself back against a wide cedar, where I had a clean view of the overlook, and quietly adjusted the settings on my DSLR one more time.
I liked controlling my Kelvin temperature in camera, rather than in post, and with the rising sun, that meant little adjustments every few minutes to accommodate the change from cool tones to warm.
The others tucked themselves somewhere between the trees as I eyed the path.
The pale violet sky was a stunning backdrop, but if they didn’t make it here soon, they’d miss the sunrise altogether.
Not that Isobel would care, but I did. She’d put me in charge of this. I had to make it perfect for her.
As though summoned, her bright laughter filtered through the trees.
I straightened, and when she and Dane came into view, I raised the lens and blew out an even breath.
They were both casually dressed, though Isobel, I noted, wore a full face of makeup.
Maybe she didn’t want the full party, but she was still her, always prepared, and it didn’t surprise me at all that she wanted to look her best, even if that best was slightly glazed in sweat from a steep morning hike.
“Let’s stop here. Take in the view,” Dane said, slinging an arm over her shoulders.
Sweet but annoying. He was blocking her face.
I’d spent far too many hours waiting for a bird to surface from its nest only for the stubborn thing to come out facing away from me.
No one was impressed by a catalog of nothing but tail feathers.
“Move,” I muttered.
They took a drink from their water bottles. “You’re right,” Dane said. “This was a good idea. It’s beautiful.”
“It is.” Isobel flashed a look to the trees. “Charming, I—”
A twig snapped under my foot. Damn it.
“What was that?” Dane turned.
“Nothing!” Isobel grabbed his face and pulled him back toward her just as Esther’s giggle sounded from the bush.
“I heard someone.” That wasn’t Dane; that was the sheriff speaking now.
“I have something to say to you!” Isobel dug something small out of the pocket of her yoga pants and stuck it on her finger, then held it up for him to see.
I raised my camera again. There. Finally, the shot.
Dane stared at her, perplexed. “Your… ring?”
“Yes!”
“Why are—”
“I’m going to marry you!” Isobel shouted in his face.
Eva’s laugh slipped through the trees as I fired off a volley of accidental shots. Dane must not have heard it, however, because he was still looking at Isobel, stunned. “What did you say?”
“I want to marry you,” Isobel said more softly, taking his hands in her own. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long and I’m sorry I’ve been scared, but I…” Her voice shook. “I want you forever, Dane.”
He laughed in obvious relief. “Thank God.” Then he drew her close, searing a kiss to her lips. “This has been the longest year of my life, Isobel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, wife.”
Isobel tipped her head back in a laugh. I snapped photograph after photograph.
But perfectionism was a funny thing. I knew going into this that portrait photography wasn’t my specialty, but still, it drove me mad that I could have gotten a better angle if only I’d planted myself a few feet to the left. In this spot, a tree slightly blocked my view.
I could do this. I just had to move slowly. Holding my breath, I leaned to the left—
SNAP
—and fell gracelessly into the bush.
Dane pushed Isobel behind him. “Who’s there?” he called out.
“Stop!” Isobel pulled his arm down. “It’s fine! I invited them!”
“You invited…?” Dane’s tone lost its edge, sounding more confused than angry now.
“Could you wave, Fairy?”
I obliged, throwing my hand out of the tangle of branches and leaves I’d gotten myself stuck in. “Pictures look great, Iz.”
She clapped her hands as Eva dropped down beside me, grasping me by the forearm and hauling me out of the bush. “You are so consistent,” she murmured.
It sounded to my ear like Take me back into the trees.
Esther bounded out from behind a pine tree. “Hi, Dad!” she sang as she barreled into her father’s middle, drawing a startled “Oomph” from him.
“What, Esther…?” Dane twisted in bewilderment. “How many of you are there?”
“Just four,” Jack said, bringing up the rear.
Dane’s mouth dropped open, and then he turned to Isobel. “You… planned this?”
She cleared her throat. “The thing is… I want to be your wife, but I’m not really sure about a giant wedding. I…” She stumbled over her words. “I didn’t like how your last one ended.”
Dane took her in his arms more fully. “Is that what the delay has been, love? It wouldn’t be like that.”
“No. It won’t. I’ve made sure of it.” Isobel nodded to our motley crew. “I want to marry you here. Now. Well, in ten minutes. I do have a dress I want to change into, after all.”
Dane’s mouth fell open again, and a slow smile spread over his face. “You sure? Here?”
“It’s perfect,” Isobel rushed on. “Just you, me, and the people we love most.” She held out a hand and knit her fingers with Esther’s. “What do you say?”
It was a rare sight to see Isobel Moreau look nervous. Did she think he’d say no?
“Isobel,” Dane softly said, cupping her cheek in one hand, then cutting us a quick glance before deciding he didn’t care about an audience. With the other hand, he held his daughter, as he dragged Isobel in for a kiss.
Eva bumped me with her hip. “Money shot,” she whispered as I snapped the photo.
Esther pushed them apart. “So, will you marry her or not, Dad?”