Epilogue
Caleb
From the kitchen, I watch the first diners arrive. I brush my sweaty palms on my chef coat and take a deep breath. In. Out. It’s only friends and family. Most of them are service industry professionals, too. They’ll either give me a break or be the harshest critics for tonight’s soft opening.
Brooke welcomes each party with her warm, inviting smile.
If we’re lucky and timelines stay on track—they will under Brooke’s careful watch—the barn will open next spring for its first season of weddings.
Until then, Brooke will manage front of house at Foley’s Farm to Table.
It’s a job she handles with an ease not even the most experienced general manager could muster.
We spent the last week refining dishes, printing menus, assembling furniture (if I never see an allen wrench again, it’ll be too soon), and putting finishing touches on the space.
We kept renovations as simple as possible, preserving the charm and original details.
Corner built-ins hold cookbooks and knickknacks, and Joey tracked down historic pictures of the area that now hang on the walls.
The oak tables are accompanied by navy Windsor chairs.
The place settings are simple with bistro napkins and vintage bread plates.
It’s refined but relaxed. The kitchen is as state of the art as the budget would allow. I feel right at home.
We also spent the last week keeping a secret we plan to share with our friends and family tonight, hence the sweaty palms. Asking her didn’t cause any anxiety. Sharing it is another story. All eyes on me is the last thing I want, but if they have any sense at all, they’ll be looking at Brooke.
The Warehouse Party on Sunday was the last place I wanted to be when we had so much to accomplish before tonight. But Brooke loves a theme party, and I’ll do anything to make her happy.
We went all out for the Old Hollywood theme.
I rented a tux with a white dinner jacket and black bow tie, and even attempted to tame my hair, slicking it back as best as I could.
And Brooke…she was radiant. She wore a short sleeve fitted black dress with a voluminous white skirt and a V-neck that made me want to take it off the second she put it on.
She added a faux pearl necklace and white gloves that reached her elbows.
Her hair was pulled back in some kind of updo that sounded like a French pastry. Absolutely dazzling.
“Do I look as beautiful as Grace Kelly?” she asked, twirling in the parking lot.
“I don’t know who that is,” I said, grabbing her hand and spinning her into my arms. “But I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you look tonight, babe”
The party roared inside. Pop music played until a cover band took the stage for a short set of hits from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I pulled Brooke onto the floor and we slow-danced.
I didn’t have a plan, just a ring in my breast pocket. We swayed while the vocalists crooned “Can’t Help Falling in Love” to the crowded dance floor. We weren’t the only ones starving for a slow dance.
Dancing face to face, I got lost in her. I took her left hand and slowly removed the white glove.
“What are you doing?” she asked, brows knitted together. I placed her hand on my chest, over the spot where the ring lay loosely in the pocket. Moving her fingers until she felt it.
“Brooke,” I smiled when her eyes grew wide. “Do you remember when we played wedding as kids?”
“I do,” she smiled, eyes sparkling. Laughing nervously when she realized she said I do.
“I’ve been thinking, we should do that again. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I want to have the ultimate adventure with you. To do this life together. The wedding, the marriage, and whatever’s in store for us along the way. What do you say?”
“Is that the question you’re going with?” she asked with a wide grin.
“Babe,” I sighed. “I was provided with extremely specific instructions on how to handle most of this.”
She laughed. “I want you to say it.”
I discreetly took the ring out of my pocket, took a deep breath, and looked into her sparkling blue eyes. “Brooke, will you marry me?”
“Caleb, I would love to marry you,” she said, and I slid the ring onto her finger. A simple gold band with a round diamond, exactly what she wanted. Brooke looked at the ring as a tear fell down her cheek. I lifted her chin and kissed my beautiful fiancée.
“No ick?” I asked, slipping her white glove back on.
“Never.”
We continued to dance. The crowd around us none the wiser.
She’s been wearing the ring all evening and no one’s noticed.
Not Jordan and her date from the city. Not Joey and his girlfriend Morgan.
Not Hannah and Preston, who are expecting a baby before their first anniversary.
Not my parents. And not Mr. Edwards. He’s been helping me with the kitchen gardens.
Judy doesn’t know and I doubt she ever will. The crack she left in Brooke’s life has been mended together by the rest of us, the ones who love her unconditionally and always will.
I leave the kitchen and reach the hostess stand as group of redheads come through the door.
Maddie and her younger sisters. “Oh my god, Brooke, I’m so sorry,” she says in her usual rapid pace.
“I was stuck at work. Paige is in town and we had a ton to catch up on. We have this one client who’s…
” She abruptly stops talking and her eyes go wide.
Her sisters, Brooke, and I all stare at her like something’s wrong.
“Holy shit,” Maddie shouts. “Are you two fucking engaged?!”
Well, that takes care of that.
Brooke smiles and Maddie shrieks. Every head in the restaurant turns in our direction. A chorus of cheers and claps echoes around us.
We both prefer to be behind the scenes, but for a moment, we relish the attention.
I hold Brooke close to my side. She’s wearing the same navy blue gingham dress that she wore for our first real date, making me wish this service was over already, so I could close up and walk her over to the house. Our house.
For now, I’ll settle for celebrating our love with the people we love and who love us.