Epilogue
Lila
The country club hadn’t changed in the six years since I’d last set foot on its manicured grounds.
The same pristine white columns flanked the entrance, and the fountain still sparkled in the sunlight as Mason pulled our rental car into the circular drive.
The air smelled faintly of magnolias, hot and heavy without the ocean breeze I’d grown used to in Miami.
My stomach twisted into a familiar knot as I spotted clusters of Alabama’s finest socialites milling about.
I knew those faces. They were the ones who’d snickered behind their wine glasses when my pageant disaster went viral.
Mason’s hand found mine across the center console, threading our fingers together and giving them a steady squeeze.
“You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes searching mine.
I nodded, though my white-knuckled grip on my clutch said otherwise. “Just remembering why I moved to Miami.”
This was where it had all begun. My humiliation. My retreat from the spotlight. My carefully built defenses. And now I was bringing Mason straight into the lion’s den of whispered gossip and polite cruelty that had once torn me apart.
“Anyone gives you trouble, I’ll check them into the boards.” His deep voice was tinged with that sexy Canadian accent that did unfair things to my concentration.
Despite my anxiety, a smile tugged at my lips. Eight months together, and Mason still knew exactly what to say to pull me back from the edge.
“My hero,” I said, genuinely touched. “Just… be prepared. My mother is going to be a piece of work.”
A valet attendant in a crisp uniform opened my door, and I stepped out of the air-conditioned car and into the blistering heat. Mason came around and placed his hand on the small of my back, a silent anchor.
He was devastating in his dark charcoal suit, tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders and trim waist. The fabric stretched enticingly across his muscular thighs as he straightened, and I let myself enjoy the view. This gorgeous man was mine, and it still didn’t feel real sometimes.
Inside, the country club was transformed for my brother’s wedding, with white roses and blue hydrangeas everywhere, silver candelabras, and crystal chandeliers catching the afternoon sunlight.
I’d barely had a moment to take it all in when I spotted my mother hurrying toward us, her champagne-colored dress shimmering under the lights.
“Delilah Mae!” she trilled, air-kissing both my cheeks. Her perfume was gardenia-sweet and expensive, the same scent I’d grown up bracing for. “You finally made it! We were beginning to worry.”
“We’re right on time, Mother,” I replied evenly.
Her attention shifted to Mason, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. “And Mr. Callahan. How… interesting to see you again.”
“Mrs. Prescott,” Mason greeted her with a nod, his voice carefully neutral. “Congratulations on Nathan’s wedding. The venue looks beautiful.”
“Yes, well.” My mother sniffed delicately. “The Haverfords have been members for generations. Unlike some establishments, this club maintains certain standards.”
The dig wasn’t subtle. In the months since Mason met my family, my mother had made her disapproval crystal clear. A professional hockey player didn’t fit into her carefully curated social landscape. In her world, doctors, lawyers, and old money were the only acceptable options.
Before I could respond, my mother continued.
“I’ve arranged for you to be seated next to Bradley Townsend at the reception. You remember him. He’s back from medical school at Johns Hopkins. Very suitable.”
My mother had been dropping hints about “suitable matches” since I’d turned eighteen, and Mason’s appearance in my life had only intensified her campaign.
Seven months ago, I would have nodded, smiled politely, and found some way to appease her while secretly rearranging the seating cards later. But that Lila was gone.
“Actually, Mother, I’ll be sitting with Mason.” My voice was calm but firm. “My boyfriend. The man I live with in Miami. The one who makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”
My mother’s eyes widened at my directness. “Delilah Mae, I’m just thinking of your future. What kind of life can you build with someone who travels half the year and spends the other half getting his teeth knocked out on ice?”
“A wonderful one,” I said, stepping closer to Mason. “A life where I’m valued for who I am, not who someone wants me to be.” I softened my tone, but not my resolve. “I love you, Mother, but I won’t let you undermine my relationship. Not today. Not ever.”
My mother blinked rapidly, unused to being challenged.
“Well,” she finally said. “I see Miami has made you… outspoken.”
She patted my arm with cold fingers, fully recovered. “Do try to mingle, darling.”
She floated away in a swirl of gardenias, leaving me trembling slightly with a mixture of anger and triumph.
Mason whistled low under his breath. “That was…”
“Long overdue,” I finished for him, taking a deep breath. “Sorry about her.”
He turned me to face him, his eyes warm with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “Don’t apologize. That was hot as hell.”
I laughed, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. “Come on, hockey star. Let’s go find my non-horrible family members.”
As we made our way through the reception, I spotted my grandmother, Granny June, standing by the buffet table, a bright pink hat perched jauntily on her head. She was holding court, chatting up the guests like she was the queen of the country club.
“Granny!” I called out, bringing Mason over to meet her.
She turned, her eyes lighting up as she spotted me. “Delilah Mae! And the hockey star! Come here, you two! I need a picture!”
Mason chuckled, glancing down at me. “Is that your grandma?”
“Yep, the one and only,” I said with a grin.
Granny rushed over, her pearls clacking together as she approached. She wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace. “You look absolutely stunning in that dress, darling.” She pulled back to get a good look at me, an approving smile lighting up her face.
Then her gaze shifted to Mason, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“And you must be Mason Callahan, the love of my granddaughter’s life?
” She looked him up and down, giving him a once-over like a seasoned judge at a dog show.
“You know, Mason, you look a lot better without the clothes on. Just saying!”
Mason had to suppress a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Of course, you will! Do you know, it’s all thanks to my lucky spanx that you two even got together?”
I felt my cheeks heat up. “Granny, you gave me those spanx six years ago. A lot of unlucky things happened after that.”
“Nonsense!” she declared, waving her hand dismissively. “Without those lucky spanx, you would have never moved to Miami. And without moving to Miami, you wouldn’t have met Mason! It’s all part of the universe’s plan.”
Mason raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “She has a point, Lila. Those spanx were a game-changer.”
“Oh, honey, the world of undergarments is much more magical than you think!” Granny winked, clearly enjoying the attention. “In fact, I’ve started my own tictac channel giving sex tips. Got to keep up with the times.”
“Your… what?” A horrified squeak betrayed me as I glanced nervously at Mason. Sex tips. For strangers. On tictac.
“Selfie time!” Granny declared, pulling out her phone. “I need it for my channel!”
As we leaned in for the selfie with Granny, she playfully elbowed me aside, giving me a mischievous wink. “Sorry, darling. Don’t want to let my fans down. They want to see me with this stud, not you!”
As Granny snapped the photo of her and Mason, soft music began, signaling the start of the ceremony.
Mason turned to me. “We should find our seats.”
“Now where’s that hot usher who’s supposed to walk me to my seat?” Granny asked, adjusting her bright pink hat with a playful grin.
The ceremony was everything a Southern society wedding should be: elaborately floral, emotionally reserved, and precisely on schedule. Nathan looked handsome and happy standing beneath an archway dripping with roses, and his bride, Sarah, glowed as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.
The reception began with cocktails on the terrace overlooking the golf course.
I braced myself for the social gauntlet ahead, but then the strangest thing happened as Mason and I circulated among the guests.
People were… nice. Not just polite, but genuinely warm.
There were a few sideways glances and whispered comments behind cocktail napkins, but they felt insignificant compared to the positive interactions.
As the sun began to set, casting golden light across the manicured greens, I watched in amazement as Mason was gradually surrounded by a growing group of men. He was proving to be the night’s main attraction, especially after the season the Miami Fusion had.
“He’s quite something, your hockey player,” my sister Amelia remarked, sidling up next to me with a champagne flute in each hand.
She passed one to me and clinked glasses.
“Mom’s having kittens watching him charm the pants off the Robinson twins’ father.
Apparently, he’s a major investor in sports franchises. ”
I laughed as Mason gestured animatedly about what appeared to be a dramatic save. He had a whole circle of guys hanging on his story, and I felt a surge of warmth seeing him so comfortable among strangers.
“He’s good with people,” I said. “When he wants to be.”
Amelia bumped my shoulder playfully. “You seem good, too. Happy. It looks nice on you.”
“I am,” I admitted, realizing how true it was. “Even with Mother doing her passive-aggressive best.”
“Speaking of which,” Amelia tilted her glass toward the far side of the room, “the maternal unit appears to be recalibrating.”