Epilogue
ISABEL
The Avila women had taken over the master bedroom at Miremont.
Alex was doing my makeup while Saffron fussed with my hair. Eberly had commandeered the steamer and was attacking invisible wrinkles in my dress. Daphne was entertaining Ana?s on the bed, making ridiculous faces that had my daughter gurgling with laughter.
Four months old, and she already had everyone wrapped around her tiny fingers.
“Hold still,” Alex ordered, brandishing a mascara wand. “You’re going to end up looking like a raccoon.”
“I’m nervous,” I bit back, which made Alex smile and look at me like she was a proud mama herself.
“You’re marrying my brother. You should be nervous. You’re stuck with us forever now.”
I laughed, and she sighed and waited for me to stop moving before finishing my eyes.
This was my life now. Chaos and laughter and women who had absorbed me into their ranks without question. I hadn’t known what it meant to be surrounded by people who showed up, who helped, who made your problems their problems without being asked.
I knew now.
The door opened, and Lucia stepped inside. She wore a deep-burgundy dress that set off her silver hair, and her eyes went bright the moment she saw me.
“Oh, mija.” Her hand pressed to her heart. “You’re beautiful.”
I stood, careful not to step on the hem of my dress, and turned to face her. The gown was simple—ivory silk, clean lines, and a neckline that skimmed my collarbones. No beading, no lace, no elaborate train. Just me.
“Thank you.” I crossed the room and took her hands in mine. “For everything. For loving me, most of all.”
Lucia’s eyes filled with tears. She cupped my face the way she always cupped her children’s faces, like I was precious.
“That’s what mothers do,” she said.
I hugged her, and she held me tight, and when we finally separated, we were both laughing at ourselves for crying before the ceremony had even started.
“Enough!” Alex declared. “I am not fixing that makeup again. Everyone, pull yourselves together.”
The ceremony was held in the rose garden that Rascon and I had painstakingly brought back to what I imagined was its former glory. Eberly, who had the greenest thumb of anyone I knew, probably deserved the most credit.
We’d set up rows of chairs, with an arbor at the end, draped in white flowers and trailing greenery. The November sun hung golden in the sky, casting long shadows across the hills.
I stood at the entrance to the aisle, alone.
My father had asked to do the honors, but I’d gently told him no. Not out of anger, though. As I’d explained to him, this moment was mine. Today, I would give myself to the man I loved.
The music started. I took a breath and stepped forward.
Every face turned toward me. Friends and family, colleagues and neighbors, people who had become part of my life in ways I never could have predicted. I saw Thomas in the front row, his smile warm with approval. I saw Bas standing beside him, his eyes suspiciously bright.
I scanned the crowd for one more face.
On Thomas’ opposite side, on the aisle, stood my father. Our eyes met across the distance, and he nodded and smiled.
I smiled back, then turned my attention to the flower-draped arbor, where Rascon waited with a smile so wide it looked like it might split his face. He wore a charcoal suit with an ivory tie, and he’d never looked more handsome.
I reached him, and he took my hands, and Cru began to speak. Yes, he’d become ordained so he could marry us. I heard maybe half of what he said. The rest was lost to the rush of blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart, the overwhelming awareness of the man standing in front of me.
Then it was time for the vows.
Kick went first. He cleared his throat and squeezed my hands.
“Isabel. You taught me that love isn’t about rescuing someone.
It’s about showing up. Every day. In the small moments and the hard ones.
In the middle of the night when the baby won’t stop crying and in the morning when the coffee’s not ready.
I promise to show up for you. Every day. For the rest of my life.”
It was my turn to say what I’d written and rewritten a dozen times, but standing here, looking at his face, they came easy.
“Rascon, I spent my life running. From expectations, from disappointment, from anything that felt too much like hope. You’re the reason I finally stopped.
Not because you caught me—but because you made me want to stay.
I promise to stay. With you. With our daughter.
With this life we’re building together. Forever. ”
Cru pronounced us husband and wife. Kick kissed me, and the crowd erupted, and somewhere behind us, Ana?s let out a delighted shriek that made everyone laugh.
The reception was ongoing chaos in the best possible way.
Tables had been set up beneath a tent on the lawn behind the house.
Lights that would glow like stars once the sun went down were strung inside.
Music played from speakers hidden in the garden, and the wine flowed freely—Whitmore and Avila vintages side by side.
Soon, Miremont would be poured, maybe in time for the next wedding.
Ana?s was passed from aunt to uncle like a tiny celebrity, accepting adoration with the regal disinterest of someone who knew she was the most important person in the room. When she finally got fussy, Lucia swept her away for a bottle and a nap, and I was free to circulate.
I found myself near the bar when I noticed Bas.
He was talking to Gemma Engel, our wedding planner.
She looked polished and professional with her dark hair swept back in a sleek chignon and a headset hooked over one ear even now.
She’d been putting out fires all day—literally, when one of the candles had gotten too close to a centerpiece—and she looked like she was running on caffeine and sheer willpower.
Bas had turned on the charm. I could see it from twenty feet away—the easy smile, the relaxed posture, the way he got just close enough to create intimacy without crowding her. It was his standard move. I’d seen it work on countless women over the years.
But it wasn’t working on Gemma.
She said something polite but firm, then she excused herself and walked away, already speaking into her headset about something involving the cake.
The expression on Bas’ face made me pause as he watched her go.
“Interesting,” I murmured.
Alex appeared at my elbow, following my gaze. “Poor Bas. Shot down in flames.”
“I doubt it happens often.”
“You’re right.” Alex grinned. “And it might be good for him.” She leaned closer. “I’ve been thinking. Now that you’re settled here, we should start a Wicked Winemakers Ball for the Russian River Valley. Raise money for the children’s hospital, the way we do in Paso Robles.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“I know. And I already have someone in mind to organize it.”
I held up my hands. “Oh no. Not me. I have a vineyard to restore and a baby to raise and—”
Alex laughed. “I hope I don’t hurt your feelings, but I wasn’t thinking of you.” She nodded toward Gemma, who was now directing the catering staff while making sure the cake was ready to cut. “She’d be perfect.”
“You’re right. If she’ll do it.”
Alex cocked her head. “Oh, my dear sister-in-law. You know me. She’ll do it.”
The evening wound down in a haze of champagne and dancing and more happiness than I’d ever thought possible. When Rascon found me on the dance floor and put his arms around me, I melted into him without hesitation.
“Did you see Bas with the wedding planner?” I asked.
“I saw.” His hand spread warm across my lower back. “He’s had that look all night.”
“What look?”
His eyes met mine. “The one I had when I finally stopped pretending I wasn’t in love with you.”
I laughed and kissed him, and we swayed together until the song ended.
Later—much later—we stood alone on the patio. The guests had gone. The catering staff had packed up. Inside the house, Ana?s slept in her crib, surrounded by family who had insisted on staying to help with the morning-after cleanup.
The vineyard stretched out before us, silver in the moonlight.
“Happy?” Rascon asked, his arm around my shoulders and my head against his chest.
“I didn’t know I could be this happy. I didn’t know it was possible.”
“Get used to it, Mrs. Avila.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “This is just the beginning.”
I tilted my face up to his, and he kissed me properly.
Slow and deep and thorough, the kind of kiss that was a promise and a vow and a commitment all wrapped into one.
The kind of kiss that said forever without needing words.
I’d been wrong when I thought it was the kind that only happened in books and movies.
My husband’s kiss was all real, and it was all mine.
Russian River Valley First Label series,
Bas’ Blend
He let her walk away once.
He won’t make that mistake again.
She has three rules for protecting her heart,
and he’s already breaking them all.
Together, they’re playing with fire,
but neither wants to stop.
BAS
She walked away from me at a wedding, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.
Gemma sees straight through my charm and couldn’t care less about my family name—which is exactly why I can’t let her go.
Hiring her to plan my wine society’s events guarantees she’ll be close, but she’s made the rules crystal clear: professional boundaries only.
The problem is, every moment with her makes me want to tear those boundaries down, and I’m terrified that if I push too hard, she’ll walk away for good.
GEMMA
I swore off charming, wealthy men after the last one destroyed me.
Sebastian Whitmore is everything I promised myself I’d never fall for again—confident, relentless, and far too used to getting what he wants.
Working with him is a mistake I made with my eyes wide open, and now I’m spending every day fighting an attraction that threatens to undo three years of carefully rebuilt walls.
He makes me want things I’d convinced myself I didn’t need anymore, and that terrifies me more than anything.