Epilogue
FIVE WEEKS LATER
“Come on, honey! Hurry up, or we’re going to be late!”
“It’s not possible to be late to your own celebration,” she grumbled. “At my family’s winery, no less.”
At last, my girl appeared at the top of the stairs, and my mouth went dry.
Over the years, I’d seen Brie in numerous situations. Dressy casual for family dinners. Covered in flour and fruit sauces, hair a mess, apron covering her leggings and tee at the bakery. Naked and writhing beneath me.
But somehow, this was my favorite: in one of her cute little sundresses, a long sleeved top and leggings underneath to ward against the cold, and black combat boots. She was equal parts feminine and edgy, a walking contradiction, and I loved every single side of her she gave me.
The five weeks since the meeting about the community garden had come and gone in a flash of constant activity. The fact that it was slow season for tourists proved to be a blessing, because Brie and I could focus all of our efforts on our upcoming projects .
First, we’d sat down with Jay Daniels—who happened to be Logan’s father—about construction on our home and my dad’s guest cottage, which would really be a thousand square-foot home designed to his exact specifications. Our place would be over twice the size of that, with a large master and en suite that included a massive freestanding tub, Hansen’s room, which we were letting him decorate himself, and plenty of spare rooms to grow our family. True to form, the kitchen would be the focal point of the living space. Brie and I were taking our time choosing appliances and finishes, wanting it to be the space of our dreams where we could both create as well as teach Hansen and any future children the tools of our respective trades.
And now that the worst of the winter storms had passed and more temperate weather was on the horizon, Jay and his team would begin digging the foundation the first week of April—which was only a week away.
Next, once we’d decided on the best spot for the community garden, the entire Delatou clan, all their significant others, and I began planning the layout and how exactly we’d operate it. The point, for me, was to give back to this town while also using it as a place of learning. It would survive entirely on donations, and thanks to Brie’s family, including Logan, Cal, and Owen, we had enough to operate for probably a decade before we’d even begin to see the bottom of our coffers.
I supposed it paid to be connected to the rich and famous. Even Logan’s brother-in-law, Brent Jean, who was a star professional hockey player, had donated a significant sum, as had a few of his teammates and a few of Owen’s from his NFL days.
Everything was coming together better than I ever dreamed, and I was impatiently waiting for the last of the snow to melt and the ground to thaw so we could get to working the soil and readying it for plants.
Thankfully, the family had allowed us to use the garage at the Villa as a sort of makeshift greenhouse, and we’d been keeping some starters there in preparation. Did I think we’d have it all figured out in our first year? Of course not, but I knew we’d have fun figuring it all out. With Brie by my side, even the bad days were good.
With those two projects, we were arguably busier than we had time for, given Hansen’s school and activity schedule and Brie’s burgeoning online business. But somehow, we were gluttons, because we began work on the cookbook as well.
Those were honestly some of my favorite days, when Brie and I spent endless hours in the kitchen while Dad was working and Hansen was at school, honing recipes and playing around with old favorites. Learning from each other was fun too, and I was never mad about the times that ended with us naked and tangled with each other.
For the past few years, I’d spent my birthday wallowing.
This year, though, I had so fucking much to be thankful for, so much to celebrate, that I found myself getting a little misty-eyed as Brie and I drove down to the winery for my party.
“You seem nervous,” I said to Brie as I drove. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, not talking my ear off about the cookbook or garden like she usually would.
“I’m not nervous,” she scoffed. “Just a lot on my mind.”
I reached over the console and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Talk to me, honey. ”
Our gazes connected briefly before I had to return my attention to the road, but she said, “Just wondering how we’re going to do it all. Maybe we bit off more than we could chew.”
We’d reached the drive to the winery, so I didn’t answer her until I pulled into a parking space and turned the car off. Then I turned to her and said, “We can do this, Brie. You can do this. But no one is going to think any less of you if you decide to take a step back from some of it.”
She nodded sadly, her shoulders slumping, like I hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. But we weren’t in the habit of lying to each other, and I meant every word.
This woman… She was so young still, only twenty-five. She had her whole life to realize her dream of publishing a cookbook or of doing any of the other thousand things she’d set her mind to.
“I’m proud of you always, honey. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” she said softly, giving me a half-smile that was edged with an emotion I couldn’t name. Instantly, an oily, unsettled feeling sloshed in my gut, but Brie was withdrawing her hand from mine and pushing out of the car before I could press her on what was really bothering her.
If something was truly wrong, she’d tell me. Right?
Shaking it off and making a mental note to bring it up later when we were home, I once again captured her hand with mine, and we walked inside together.
As usual, the whole crew was gathered. Beer and wine flowed, tables pushed against the perimeter of the room and laden with food—that I didn’t cook for once—that guests could enjoy buffet-style .
The moment we appeared, we were both swept off in opposite directions. Liam approached me first, a move that surprised me, given his propensity for hanging out on the fringes of these types of gatherings, wanting to fill me in on how our starter plants were going. Immediately, I lost sight of Brie in the surprisingly large crowd, but I tried my best to fight my concern that maybe she was avoiding me.
After all, it was my birthday, and whatever was going on with her had nothing to do with us, so I did my very best to enjoy myself.
Soon, Leon and Lena joined my conversation with Liam, and we veered off plants in favor of discussing how the plans for my and Brie’s house were coming along. Jay had also been responsible for building Leon and Lena’s and Chloe’s homes, as well as constructing the distillery Owen and Delia had built the previous fall. He’d also done all the contracting work on Brie’s bakery, and I was excited to see the vision for our home come to life under his experience and watchful eye.
The most special part, though, was that because my dad worked for Jay as a foreman, he’d also be helping spearhead the project, and Delia would be in charge of interior design.
So much had changed in four years, and it truly amazed me. If you’d told me back when everything had gone down with Shannon that I’d move to a small town in Michigan, meet the love of my life, and settle down here, I’d have said you were crazy. While I’d grown up with only my dad as my family and had spent a few years with just him and Hansen, I found my heart expanding as the realization dawned that I’d found all of these people who welcomed me and mine into the fold with open arms. I’d created the family I’d longed for my entire life, and I couldn’t have done it without Brie.
Which was why, the second it didn’t feel rude to do so, I offered hasty goodbyes to her family and pulled her out of the winery to head home.
I’d been on pins and needles all day, waiting for the moment when I could get her alone so we could finally hash out whatever was eating at her.
Dad and Hansen had gone to Detroit for the weekend, and I was grateful Brie and I had the house to ourselves for once. We could lay it all out there, and then I could fuck her into oblivion afterward.
Before she could get too far away from me as we walked into the house, I directed Brie into the kitchen and turned her to face me.
“What’s going on?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes as she said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been distant and acting weird all day. Are you…mad at me? Having second thoughts about us?”
The words were razor blades in my throat, but I pushed them out past the pain. Truthfully, Brie leaving me on my birthday would really be par for the course, but I forced myself to relax, to wait her out before I went jumping to conclusions.
Instead of answering me, she moved to the pantry and rifled around behind some canisters until she withdrew a long, rectangular Tupperware container.
“What’s this?” I asked as she approached and set it on the island in front of me.
“Happy birthday,” she said simply, removing the top .
Inside were a dozen cupcakes, each decorated differently, indicating their different flavor combinations.
The exact same cupcakes she’d made for my birthday and shipped to me from Chicago three years ago.
“You remembered,” I said, looking at her in awe.
Brie rolled her eyes with a little laugh. “Of course I remembered.” At last, she came to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and tipping her head back for a kiss.
I wasted no time giving her what she wanted, sighing deeply in relief as we connected. Kissing her was coming home, and even the few hours I’d gone without her lips on mine, when I’d fully spiraled and wondered what the hell I’d do without her, had been too goddamn long. Her tongue darted out against my lips, seeking entry, and I let her have it. Her flavor coated my tongue as she swept hers in, a combination that was entirely her own—all honeyed sweetness.
I spun us and hooked my hands behind her thighs to lift her onto the counter. Then I notched my thumb under her chin and tilted her head where I wanted her, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat.
One of Brie’s hands fisted in my hair while the other gripped my shirt, and before I could get too deep into my exploration of her body, before I could strip her out of her dress and eat her for dessert instead, she said, “I’ve got one more gift for you.”
I pulled back, eyes sweeping over her face as my forehead scrunched in confusion.
“All I need is you.”
Brie smiled softly. “That’s sweet, but I think you’re going to like this one. ”
“Okay…”
“Before I give it to you, I have a question to ask you.”
“Anything.”
“Marry me?”
She moved her hands to the nape of her neck and unclasped her necklace, pulling it free from the collar of her dress and sliding something off it before holding whatever it was out to me.
In her palm rested a small silver circle.
With a start, I realized it was a ring.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you this?”
Brie waved me off. “Who gives a fuck about tradition?”
I grinned. Damn, did I love it when my girl swore.
“I was going to, you know. Ask, I mean. And soon.”
She shrugged. “I’m just beating you to the punch. I want to marry you. As soon as possible.”
“What’s the rush?”
“I love you,” she said. “More than I ever thought I could love someone. You’re everything I ever dreamed of, and I’d endure every moment of heartache and disappointment and years without you again if it brought us to this moment.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
My loveless marriage, Shannon’s infidelity, substance abuse problems, the accident. For her—and for Hansen—I’d happily live it all again.
“So I want you to be my husband. I want the whole thing with you, Ez. The big house on the bluff overlooking the water. The kids running around. Growing old right here on this peninsula with my family— our family—surrounding us. ”
“And I’ll give you all of it.”
“You already are,” she said, and silver lined her eyes as she grinned at me. “You already have .” She dipped her hand down the front of her shirt and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I’ve been carrying this around all day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to you. There’s nothing that says we have to get married right away, but…”
She handed me the paper, and I unfolded it, my brain taking several beats to process what my eyes were seeing.
A sonogram.
“…I want us all to have the same last name when our baby comes,” Brie finished.
When I looked up, awestruck, and met her gaze, those beautiful green eyes more vibrant than ever with unshed tears, I was surprised to find my own vision blurry as well.
I’d done this once before. Had a woman come to me and tell me she was having my child. Had stood with another partner in a different city halfway across the country and held a different sonogram of a different baby.
And this experience was worlds away from that one.
With Shannon, I’d been scared to death, both by the infancy of our relationship, which, at the time, hadn’t been much more than fuck buddies, and by the thought of bringing a child into the world.
Hansen had been the best thing that ever happened to me…until Brie came along. All I felt in that moment, presented with the proof of our child growing in her womb, was a deeply rooted sense of peace. Of rightness. Of the realization that Brie and I were endgame, and our baby would never have to endure what Hansen had.
That, with her, Hansen and I finally found the family I’d always longed for.
Unintelligible words left my lips as I struggled to verbalize my thoughts into something that fully encapsulated everything I was feeling.
At last, I settled on, “I love you,” and drew her in for a deep kiss.
When we broke apart again, both breathing hard, Brie said, “I love you too.”
“I can’t accept this, though,” I said, closing her fingers around the ring.
“You don’t want to marry me?” she asked, expression stricken.
“Oh, I fully plan on marrying you,” I told her. “But you’re going to be the one wearing a ring until that day.”
With a wicked grin, I lifted her off the counter and walked us to my room, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed before moving to my dresser and withdrawing the ring box that had sat there for nearly two months.
“I bought this after Valentine’s Day,” I said, turning to her again. She sat on the edge of the mattress, and I knelt before her, popping the box open. I’d gone for something unique, something that represented Brie and what I felt for her. The stones sparkled under the overhead lighting, exactly like Brie’s face.
“A baguette?” she said with a little chuckle.
“Seemed appropriate,” I told her.
The rectangular sapphire glinted on a simple rose gold band, two tiny diamonds flanking it. I removed it from the cushion and held it out to Brie. Her hand shook as she lifted it, and I slipped it on her finger, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
She clasped my face in her hands and bent to kiss me, but a breath away, she said, “Thank you for making me the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Nah, honey,” I said. “I’m the lucky one.”