Epilogue
IVY
One Year Later
I’m standing in the birch lane in Chimney Gorge, camera in hand, snow crunching under my boots.
The Jubilee is bigger this year. Sponsors signed on early. Our “Jubilee Meets the City” teaser went live in October and melted the internet. The town is packed with visitors and volunteers and lights.
Rhett is up by the sleigh, adjusting a runner. He looks the same and different—still solid, still steady, but lighter somehow. He splits his time now—two days a week at the security firm’s Saint Pierce office, two or three up here, weekends wherever we decide we need them more.
Sometimes that’s the cabin.
Sometimes that’s my apartment, half-filled with his things now.
He straightens, catches me filming him, and tips an invisible hat. “Content?”
“Always,” I call back.
He walks over, wraps an arm around my waist, and kisses my temple. “You almost ready?”
“Almost,” I say, adjusting the focus. “I just need a closing shot.”
“Of what?”
“Of this,” I say, turning the camera on us and snapping a quick photo—our cheeks pressed together, the birches behind us, the faint glitter of the Chimney Gorge tree in the distance.
Our Christmas card, basically.
He laughs. “You gonna make the whole internet cry again, Garland?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Is that a problem, Ryder?”
He pretends to think about it. “Long as I get you when the cameras are off.”
“You do,” I say, stealing a quick kiss. “You will.”
Down the path, a familiar voice calls my name. Melanie, bundled in a ridiculous puffball coat, waves from the sleigh with Everett on her lap and Lucas at her side. Everett shrieks and demands a bell.
Rhett squeezes me once more, then heads back to the horses. He moves easily, calling out to Everett, teasing Lucas, trading a wave with Mayor Turner. He belongs here.
So do I.
My life is bigger now.
It’s meetings and campaigns and Saint Pierce coffee.
It’s snowy cabins and security case files and watching Rhett stare down a threat assessment the way he used to stare down a storm.
It’s baby giggles and best-friend sleepovers and a tiny wooden ornament on my city tree that says Chimney Gorge Christmas Jubilee in fading gold paint.
It’s messy and loud and full.
And at night, when it all goes quiet, it’s his hand over mine and the steady beat of his heart under my palm.
I hit record, catching him as he swings up into the sleigh, bells chiming, snow swirling, a smile on his face he doesn’t bother to hide anymore.
My future doesn’t look like I thought it would.
It’s better.
“Ready to ride?” he calls.
“Oh, what fun,” I call back, grinning.
And then I tuck my camera away, climb into the sleigh beside the man I love, and let the bells carry us forward into everything still to come.
Thank you so much for spending time in this world with me.