Epilogue
Loralee
One Year Later
From a distance, I might look as though I emerged from the forest for the sole purpose of marrying a mountain man.
The woman in the mirror wears a flowing ivory dress embroidered with vines, bronze leaves, and tiny flowers in shades of rust and deep gold.
The fabric fits close through my waist before falling in soft layers around my legs.
Greenery circles the crown of my head, woven with miniature roses, clear quartz, and one small piece of rose quartz that rests just above my left temple.
My hair falls loose beneath it. The sections I once dyed honey blonde have deepened into streaks of copper and amber for autumn, though the woman looking back at me no longer appears to be trying on a different version of herself. She knows exactly who she is.
“You were right about the crown,” I tell Chloe.
“I’m going to need you to repeat that in front of Jack.”
Chloe stands behind me in the bridal cabin, adjusting one of the leaves near my temple. She wears a burgundy dress and the satisfied look of a woman whose plans have unfolded precisely as intended.
Ava looks up from the garment bag she is repacking with far more care than anyone will ever use to unpack it.
“Chloe was also right about the dress.”
Chloe points at her. “Thank you.”
“I was agreeing with Loralee.”
“That still counts.”
Ava came from Forge Creek with Jake yesterday, although she spent most of the drive sending me messages about refrigeration temperatures and whether the venue kitchen contained enough counter space.
By the time they arrived, Jake had already assured her twice that the four-tier spice cake had survived the journey.
Ava checked for herself. Then she checked it again this morning.
Through the window, I can see Jake helping Jack move another row of chairs even though the ceremony begins in less than an hour.
Neither man appears to need the assistance of the other, but both have learned that carrying things gives them something to do while the women they love complete plans beyond their control.
Harper enters the room holding a snow globe in both hands.
“Before you say anything, this is not your wedding present.”
“That sounds like something a person says immediately before presenting a wedding gift.”
“It’s a sample.” She sets it carefully on the table beside my bouquet. “The actual gift is at your cabin.”
Inside the globe, a miniature bride and groom stand beneath a timber arbor surrounded by copper-colored trees.
The groom wears black, while the bride’s ivory dress is painted with tiny vines.
When Harper turns the key beneath the base, the first notes of the music chosen for our ceremony fill the room.
She gives the globe a gentle shake. Gold leaves and pale, rose-colored glitter swirl around the couple.
“Oh, Harper.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
Her smile brightens. “Good, because I made twenty-four of them.”
Ava stops folding the garment bag. “Twenty-four?”
“One for each household. I did not make one for every individual guest.”
“That would have been excessive.”
“Thank you for recognizing my restraint.”
Sharing retail space with Harper has taught me that her artistic impulses are no more containable than my own.
Six months ago, we discovered an empty storefront near the center of Cady Springs with two front windows, a private room in back, and enough square footage to divide without making either business feel crowded.
It was perfect timing, of course. Harper’s lease where she was had recently been raised and she needed to reduce her expenses.
One window now displays Harper’s snow globes and hand-painted winter scenes. The other holds my crystals, candles, and botanical products. My massage and reading room occupies the quietest corner, protected by walls thick enough to keep the bell above the front door from disturbing my appointments.
Rocco designed the security system. Harper decorated the cameras with tiny vines until he discovered what she had done. He removed them. She put them back. They have reached an understanding neither will explain to me.
Ethan appears in the open doorway. He looks first at Harper, as though the rest of us have temporarily ceased to exist, then directs his attention toward me.
“Rocco is attempting to reorganize the security staff.”
Chloe sighs. “They’re already organized.”
“I told him that.”
“Did he listen?”
Ethan considers the question. “He stopped speaking.”
I reach for my bouquet. “It means he is reorganizing them silently.”
Rocco’s company has spent the past year growing beyond anything he expected.
Sentinel Mountain Security now handles private events, corporate retreats, and high-profile assignments throughout Colorado and several surrounding states.
Cady Springs could never provide enough large jobs to keep his employees busy, but it has become the place from which he leaves and, more importantly, the place to which he returns.
Earlier this summer, Jack and Chloe hosted the wedding of a country singer whose millions of followers had made privacy nearly impossible. Rocco coordinated everything from transportation routes to airspace restrictions after someone attempted to fly a camera drone over the ceremony.
The wedding took place without a single unauthorized photograph appearing online. When we selected a date for our own wedding, Chloe refused to discuss the venue fee. Rocco insisted.
Jack told him the high-profile wedding had brought enough publicity to book the property through the following summer. Chloe then threatened to increase our fee every time Rocco attempted to pay it. He stopped after she sent an invoice for nine million dollars.
I suspect he has found other ways to compensate them. New exterior cameras appeared around the property last month, along with upgraded locks and emergency lighting Chloe claims she never ordered.
No one has mentioned them.
Ethan steps farther into the room. “He asked me to tell you everything is ready.”
The air moves strangely around those words, lifting the fine hairs along my arms.
I look toward Chloe. “Could I have a few minutes?”
Her face softens. “Of course.”
Ava kisses my cheek before guiding Harper toward the door. Ethan waits for his wife, his hand finding the small of her back when she reaches him. Chloe is the last to leave.
“Rocco is on the private terrace,” she says. “He isn’t supposed to see you yet, but I have never been overly committed to rules that make brides unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy.”
“No. You’re overwhelmed.”
I smile. “You’ve been spending too much time around me.”
“Go see your groom.”
The private deck extends from the opposite side of the bridal cabin. When I open the door, cold air slips beneath the delicate sleeves of my dress. Aspen leaves tremble overhead, filling the afternoon with a quiet, silvery sound.
Rocco stands at the railing with his back to me. His black suit fits the breadth of his shoulders perfectly. The dark green tie was my choice, although he rejected the first three shades before selecting one he claimed did not make him look like part of the landscaping.
He turns. For once, the man who notices everything appears completely unprepared.
His eyes move from the crown in my hair to the embroidered vines trailing down my dress.
The intensity of his gaze reaches me across the terrace, familiar enough to warm me and powerful enough to make my knees feel less dependable.
“You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony,” I say.
Rocco continues looking at me. “I didn’t arrange this.”
“No. Chloe did.”
“Then I’ll thank her.”
He steps forward, but instead of touching me immediately, he stops within reach. A year has not changed that part of him. Even now, with his ring waiting beside mine and our guests gathering beyond the trees, Rocco gives me the space to choose the final distance.
I place my hands against his chest. His arms close around me. The noise inside my mind quiets.
I rest my forehead against his chest and breathe. The energy gathering across the property presses against the edge of my awareness. I feel anticipation, joy, memories of other weddings, and emotions carried here by people who love us.
A year ago, I might have tried to sort through every sensation until I knew which belonged to me. Today, I let them exist without inviting them inside.
Rocco’s hand moves slowly along my spine. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.”
His arms tighten.
“And three minutes,” I add. “Possibly four.”
“I cleared fifteen.”
I lift my head. “From our wedding schedule?”
“Chloe built in twenty.”
“She really does understand us.”
Rocco guides me toward the cushioned bench. He removes his jacket before sitting. Then he draws me down across his lap, arranging the skirt around us with unexpected patience.
Months ago, I told him I had always wanted a partner willing to explore Tantric practices with me. I expected questions and the skeptical attitude he once reserved for crystals, auras, and anything the human eye cannot verify.
Instead, he asked what he needed to learn. The answer became something we discovered together.
Rocco turns me until we face each other, my knees settling on either side of his hips. Our clothing and the approaching ceremony keep the position innocent. The way his eyes darken doesn’t.
“Look at me,” he says.
“I am.”
“Not at everything around me.”
I allow the awareness of the venue to recede. Guests moving along the paths. Ava worrying about the cake. Chloe reviewing her schedule. Jack pretending not to check the sky even though no rain is forecast.
Rocco remains.
We breathe together. Slowly at first, then in a shared rhythm that requires no counting. His palm rests over my heart while I place mine over his. Beneath my hand, his pulse is steady. Mine gradually matches it.
“There you are,” he says.