Epilogue
Two Years Later
Maple Ridge
“Hi, Auntie Jess,”ten-year-old Lia says, racing into the living room and over to where I’m standing next to the light-gray couch. Troy decided to update the house’s interior when I permanently moved in a year ago. The place went from being completely masculine, to a soothing blend of neutral with splashes of country cottage. It’s our dream home—one we designed together.
Lia throws her arms around me, gifting me with one of my favorite hugs. The I’ve-missed-you hug, even though we just talked a few days ago on Zoom. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I return the hug, squeezing her even tighter. Troy and I drove to Seattle last month and I saw her in person. Other than that, we talk on Zoom at least once a week. I can’t believe how quickly she’s growing.
She glances down at Bailey standing beside me in her PSD jacket. My need for Bailey as a PSD isn’t as great these days as it was when Troy arranged for me to be her puppy trainer, but I do appreciate the support she gives me every time the past traumas sneak into my subconscious. Fortunately, those times have grown to be few and far between, thanks to Robyn.
Troy walks in with Grace and Craig. They’re all smiles and laughter.
Grace, the woman who has become like a sister to me, hugs me. “Congratulations! How does it feel to be a New York Times bestselling author?”
“Surreal. And weird, given that I’m working on the next novel my editor and I discussed.” It’s also historical fiction, but it takes place in the 1960s. While writing Iris’s story, I discovered I love writing historical fiction and learning about other eras. And about everyday women who fought to make a difference.
“I can’t wait to read it. I loved your book. It was soooooo good. I couldn’t put it down.”
Craig chuckles. “She’s not kidding. I swear, she stayed up all night reading it.” He hugs me like the brother he’s become. “I can’t believe you lived in Angelique’s house. I wouldn’t be surprised if fans of the book drive to Maple Ridge to take photos of the place.”
“Hopefully they don’t.” The thought of fans of the story doing that pinches my stomach.
I still own the house, but after I moved in with Troy—my husband of three months—I offered the place to a young mother who recently left her abusive husband. Lydia and her two kids are living there rent free while she gets her life back on track. It was the least I could do after everything Anne did for me. I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for Anne. If not for Anne and my friends and Troy.
The doorbell rings again, and Troy goes to answer it.
His parents enter the room a moment later, followed by Garrett and Zara. Garrett’s carrying a large white box with the Picnic Treats logo on the side.
Joanne hurries over to me, wearing the same proud smile I’ve seen directed at her sons and me plenty of times over the past two years. “Congratulations, Jess!” My mother-in-law gives me a big embrace. She’s the mother I never had. The mother I dreamed of growing up. Granny would have loved her.
Garrett puts the box on the dining table and opens the lid.
I peer inside, and a surprised laugh bursts from my lungs. “This is incredible. Is there any reason the cake looks like it came out of a fairy tale?”
The cake resembles the cut off base of a tree trunk, with red-and-white-spotted mushrooms scattered around it. The window and door on the side of the trunk complete the look. The cake is adorable.
“Keshia had a conversation with Lia over Zoom, and they decided this was the way to go,” Zara explains, trying to hide the grin twitching on her mouth. “They decided it was the only way to celebrate both you and Garrett hitting the New York Times list in the same week.”
“That would explain it.” Lia loves fairy tales as much as I still do. “Tell Keshia I love it. It’s perfect.”
Troy’s by the kitchen island, talking to his brothers. I take the moment to appreciate the man who I love more with each passing day. If not for him, I’m not sure where I would be right now. His love and kindness and determination saved me when I was struggling to breathe and save myself. That same determination was the driving force behind us becoming emotionally healthy. As individuals. As a couple.
And nineteen months after I was released from the hospital, after my life was finally back on track, I agreed to be his wife.
We had been hiking, just the two of us—and Bailey. It was something we’d been doing regularly during hiking season. A recommendation made by our couples counselor.
We’d stopped at the top of the hiking trail and looked out over the forested valley. Troy hugged me from behind and kissed my neck. Nothing new there. Hiking is an aphrodisiac for Troy. The man gets horny as hell every time we hike together. Just the two of us.
“Do you know what I want to do?” he murmured in my ear.
I laughed, the sound carrying on the light wind. “I know exactly what you want to do.” I turned in his arms and rubbed against him.
He dropped to his knee, which wasn’t what I was expecting. “Jess, from the first day I saw you on the beach, you had my heart. Through all the ups and downs and challenges and joys, you’ve had my heart.”
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. The diamond sparkled in the sun, much like I imagined the tears that sprung to my eyes did.
“Now I’m hoping you’ll be my wife.” He’d grinned at me, the hope in his expression more breathtaking than the view.
I glance at the rings on my finger. It wasn’t hard to say yes to that. We were married two months later, thanks to Emily, our super-efficient and brilliant wedding coordinator.
I walk over to join him and his brothers by the kitchen island. He pulls me to him, his body warm and strong against mine. My bulwark from the storms that still try to bring me down from time to time.
He captures my mouth in a sweet kiss that doesn’t leave his brothers groaning. They do, though, walk off, giving us a moment on our own. As on our own as we can be when in the middle of a party with friends and family.
Olivia, Lance, and Nova enter the living room. Four-year-old Nova rushes to Troy. He scoops her up in his arms and gives her a big hug.
Lance is holding his wife’s hand and looking blissfully happy. Olivia is glowing, but that might have something to do with her being six months pregnant.
“Hi, Nova,” I say to the little girl who I adore as much as Troy does. “Love the braids.”
“Daddy did them,” she explains, seemingly proud of that fact.
“Your daddy’s very talented.” Apparently, Lance has some impressive hair-styling skills I didn’t know about. I thought Olivia was the one who was always braiding Nova’s hair.
I hug the two people who’ve also become my close friends.
Troy lowers Nova to her feet. She gives me one of her extra-special hugs and runs off to visit with Butterscotch.
“I just heard from the realtor,” Troy tells Lance. “The couple agreed to our price. They’re buying the house.”
“That’s great!” The two men fist-bump, huge smiles on their faces.
Troy eventually got to do as he’d hoped when he originally wanted to buy Iris’s house. He and Lance bought a house last year that needed major work and renovated it, showcasing their talents. But instead of the money going to Olivia like Troy had planned, they decided to donate the proceeds to an organization in Oregon that supports widows of first responders.
Olivia and I congratulate and hug our husbands. We know how important the project was for them.
“Before I forget,” Olivia says to me, “Mom asked if you can come to her book club meeting next month. She’s excited that she knows a famous author.”
“I would love to be there. But I’m definitely not famous.”
Troy wraps his arms around me from behind, my favorite place for his arms to be. “You’re famous. People are talking about your novel and about your nonfiction articles. You’ve touched a lot of people and opened a lot of eyes. In my book that makes you famous.” He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Plus, you’re smart and gorgeous and a brilliant author. And you’re still the sexiest writer I know.”
I turn my head to him and flash him a grin. “And you’re biased.”
“And let’s not forget, you’re a great photographer too.” He nods at the collection of photojournalistic style pictures on the wall.
My photography is just for me. It’s my stress reliever. My passion.
Between working part-time at Picnic Treats—something I started doing a few months after leaving the hospital, because Zara needed the extra help—and writing my next novel and the articles, I don’t have time for my photography to be more than a hobby. And I’m fine with that.
Troy taps on my hip. ILU.
I tap it on his arm.
And then I tap something else. Something I’ve never tapped until now. Something I need to tap several times before Troy understands what I’m spelling out.
You are going to be a daddy.
I can tell the moment it clicks. The sudden press of his chest against my back gives it away.
“Oh, I forgot something in the bedroom,” he tells Olivia and Lance a little too fast and a little too loudly. “I’ll be right back.”
He links his fingers with mine and quickly pulls me through the living room, weaving past Simone and Lucas, past Emily and Kellan, past Anne and Dan, past Avery and Noah. I barely get out a squeaked “Hi” to our guests before he has me in the hallway. Bailey walks alongside me.
Troy tugs me upstairs to our bedroom and shuts the door. “Tell me again.” Excitement lights his face, his smile.
“You’re going to be a daddy.” An amazing one at that.
He cups my still flat stomach. “How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks. I only found out this morning.”
We were planning to start trying soon. I’d stopped taking the pill a few months ago, but we’d been using condoms until we were ready.
Except for the one time.
Troy grins. “So, it happened when you jumped me in the mountains?”
And now I’m grinning. “It was a very good hiking trip.”
He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply. Kisses me because he is my past, my present, my future. The man who loves me unconditionally. The man who is my anchor, my support.
The man who shows me every minute of every day how much he loves me. The man who has shown me what love is about. Who has shown me how real and honest and affirming it can be with the right person.
The man I trust with my heart.
* * *
Thankyou for reading ONE MORE TRUTH and the HIDDEN SECRETS TRILOGY.