Epilogue - Autumn
Autumn
The kitchen smells like cinnamon. I’m up to my elbows in flour, rolling out the same pumpkin pie crust my mom taught me when I was eight, when I hear my family erupt in laughter from the living room.
There’s music playing, something old and twangy that Dad insists is “classic.” Mia’s filming a shaky TikTok with Connor and Mom in matching Christmas pajamas, the dogs weaving underfoot.
The world feels loud and bright and full, just as it should.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a year. Twelve months since I came home thinking it was only for Thanksgiving, certain I’d leave again, never guessing I’d find Jack, and that he’d become my anchor, my adventure, my everything.
I glance down at the diamond on my finger. It catches the light and glimmers, and every time I see it, my breath still stutters. Not because it’s flashy, but because it’s from him.
I hear the front door creak, and Jack’s voice drifts in, low and teasing as he tries to wrangle a knot of lights out of Dad’s hands.
He fits here now, like he was always meant to be part of the Murphy madness.
The sight of him, jeans dusted with pine needles, makes my heart do this ridiculous, swooping dance in my chest.
Later, as we gather around the long wooden table, plates overflowing, glasses raised, laughter echoing off the walls, I take a moment to let the joy settle deep inside me.
After dinner, as the sun sets and the first stars prick through the blue, Jack finds me on the porch, where it’s quieter. He slips his arms around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. I lean back into his warmth and let myself feel how loved I am, how safe, how completely and wildly happy.
“One year,” I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips.
Jack’s laugh rumbles through me. “The best year.”
He turns me to face him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The porch glows with string lights, and inside the windows, our family is still celebrating, still singing, still absolutely, perfectly themselves.
“I love you,” he says, and I know he means it, in every possible way.
“I love you too,” I reply, and the words taste like home.
Turkey isn’t the only thing getting basted this Thanksgiving, let’s fall in love before dessert!
The Authors of Love and Leftovers are here to serve dish after dish of sweet and spicy romances that will have you weak in the knees and swooning for seconds. So get comfy, wear your stretchy pants and grab a snack, because we’re about to satisfy your sweet tooth!