Epilogue - Ivy
Two years later
I'm getting married today.
The thought keeps running through my mind on repeat, like my brain can't quite process it. Like if I stop thinking it, I'll wake up and discover this was all an elaborate dream.
But it's real. The white dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door is real. The flowers being arranged downstairs are real. The sound of my daughter babbling in the next room is definitely, beautifully real.
My daughter.
Emilia Rose Harper is fourteen months old, with Owen's dark hair and my hazel eyes and the kind of personality that suggests she's going to be running this town by the time she's five.
Right now, she's with Levi, who insisted on "uncle time" while I get ready, which probably means he's feeding her something she's not supposed to have and teaching her words I'll have to pretend not to hear later.
I love him for it.
The past two years have been a whirlwind.
Owen moved back to Blackwater Falls three months after the reunion.
Faster than either of us expected, but once he made up his mind, there was no stopping him.
He joined the practice at Blackwater Family Medicine, took over Shane's patient list when he retired, and slipped back into small-town life like he'd never left.
Except this time, he had me.
We got our own place six months later—a small house on Maple Street with a porch swing and a yard big enough for the garden Owen insists he's going to plant every spring and never quite gets around to. It's perfect. It's home.
And then, eight months after Owen moved back, I found out I was pregnant.
That was... unexpected.
We'd been careful. Mostly. Okay, not as careful as we probably should have been, but we were in love and happy and apparently very fertile.
I spent three days panicking before I told Owen. We'd only been together for eight months. We weren't even engaged yet. This wasn't the plan. We were supposed to have more time, more preparation, more everything.
But when I finally worked up the courage to show him the positive test, he picked me up and spun me around and said, "We're having a baby. Holy shit, Ivy, we're having a baby."
No panic. No hesitation. Just pure joy. That's when I knew for certain I was going to marry him. He proposed two weeks later, on a completely ordinary Tuesday evening. We were doing dishes. I was washing, he was drying, and he just turned to me and said, "Marry me."
I almost dropped the plate I was holding. "What?"
"Marry me. Be my wife. Let's do this properly." He was grinning, soap suds still on his hands. "I don't have a ring yet. I was going to do this whole elaborate thing, but I can't wait. I want you to be my wife. I want our baby to have parents who are married. I want everything with you."
I said yes before he even finished talking.
The ring came later—a simple gold band with a small diamond that he insisted on letting me pick out because "I'm a doctor, not a jewelry expert, and I don't trust myself not to screw this up." It's perfect. Everything with Owen is perfect.
Emilia was born on a snowy January morning, three weeks early and absolutely furious about it.
She came out screaming, and she barely stopped for the first month.
But she was healthy and beautiful and ours, and watching Owen hold her for the first time, this tiny person we made together, I fell even more in love with him.
We postponed the wedding until after Emilia was born. Then we postponed it again because newborn life is chaos and we could barely remember to eat, let alone plan a wedding. Then we postponed it for a third time because Emilia was teething and neither of us had slept in a week.
But now she's fourteen months old, sleeping through the night (mostly), and we're finally, actually getting married.
Today.
In about three hours.
"You're spiraling," a voice says from the doorway. I look up to find Mrs. Silver standing there with a cup of coffee and a knowing smile. "I can see it on your face. Stop it."
"I'm not spiraling."
"You're absolutely spiraling. Drink this." She hands me the coffee made exactly how I like it, because Mrs. Silver has known me for years and pays attention. "And breathe. Everything is going to be perfect."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"Then we'll fix it. That's what people do." She sits down on the bed next to me. "Ivy, honey, you're marrying the love of your life. The man who moved his entire life back here for you. The father of your child. Do you really think a little chaos is going to ruin that?"
"No," I admit. "But what if I trip walking down the aisle? What if Emilia has a meltdown during the vows? What if—"
"What if you just enjoy your wedding day instead of catastrophizing?"
I take a sip of coffee. She's right. She's always right. "How did you get so wise?"
"Years of watching you worry about things that never happen." She pats my knee. "Now finish that coffee and let's get you into that dress. Your husband-to-be is downstairs driving his brother crazy."
The ceremony is in the backyard of our house. It’s small and intimate, just family and close friends. White chairs set up in rows, facing an arch that Levi and Owen built together (after three arguments and one trip to the hardware store to replace the wood Levi cut wrong).
I can see it from the upstairs window as I finish getting ready.
People are starting to arrive. Granddad Jim with his poker buddies, some of Owen's colleagues from the practice, my coworkers from the library.
Amanda flew in from Richmond and is currently talking animatedly with someone I don't recognize.
The whole town isn't here, but enough of it is to make it feel like home.
"Ready?" Mrs. Silver asks, zipping up the back of my dress.
I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is simple—cream-colored lace, tea-length, with cap sleeves and a fitted bodice. My hair is down in soft waves, and I'm wearing the pearl earrings Owen gave me when Emilia was born.
I look like a bride.
I look like me.
"Ready," I say.
The ceremony is a blur.
I walk down the makeshift aisle on Granddad Jim's arm (because he insisted, and because Owen's parents aren't here and never will be, and Jim Harper has been more of a father to me than my own ever was.).
Owen is waiting at the altar in a navy suit, his glasses catching the late afternoon sun, and when he sees me, his whole face lights up.
Emilia is with Levi's girlfriend in the front row, mercifully quiet for the moment. She waves at me. This enthusiastic, full-arm wave that makes everyone laugh.
I barely hear the officiant. Barely register the words.
All I can focus on is Owen, looking at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world.
We say our vows. Traditional ones, because we both agreed that if we tried to write our own, we'd end up crying too hard to speak.
Owen's voice shakes when he says "I do." Mine does too.
And then we're kissing, and everyone's cheering, and we're married.
Married.
Dr. and Mrs. Harper.
Owen and Ivy.
Finally, after fifteen years of waiting, we're exactly where we're supposed to be.
The reception is in the same backyard, transformed with string lights and tables and a playlist that Levi curated (which means it's mostly 90s alternative rock and one slow song for our first dance).
Owen and I sway together under the lights, Emilia between us, her little hands gripping our fingers.
"This is perfect," I murmur against his chest.
"Yeah?" He kisses the top of my head. "No regrets about not having a big fancy wedding?"
"None. This is exactly what I wanted. You, me, our daughter, our people. That's all I need."
"Good. Because I already booked the honeymoon cabin and it's non-refundable."
I pull back to look at him. "You booked a cabin?"
"Just for the weekend. Up in the mountains. Levi's watching Emilia." He grins. "Figured we could use a couple days of just us. Sleep in, have uninterrupted conversations, maybe recreate our first time but in an actual bed this time."
I laugh. "Our first time was perfect."
"Our first time was on your couch, and you were definitely sore the next day."
"Worth it."
"Definitely worth it." He leans down to kiss me, slow and sweet. "I love you, Ivy Harper."
"I love you too." I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling our daughter's warm weight between us. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For coming back. For seeing me. For being brave enough to say what I was too scared to say."
"You said it eventually."
"After you said it first."
"Someone had to." He squeezes me closer. "Besides, best decision I ever made. Coming back to Blackwater Falls. Finding you. Building this life."
I look around at the people gathered in our backyard. Granddad Jim telling stories to anyone who will listen. Mrs. Silver dancing with one of Owen's colleagues. Levi with his girlfriend, looking happier than I've seen him in years. Our friends, our family, our community.
This is what I wanted when I stayed in Blackwater Falls all those years ago. Not the fancy career or the big city life. Just this: connection, belonging, love.
And I have it. All of it.
Emilia makes a squealing sound and reaches for the string lights, and Owen laughs and lifts her up so she can get a better look.
"Careful," I say. "She'll want to eat them."
"She wants to eat everything." He bounces her gently. "Just like her mama."
"I do not eat everything."
"You ate an entire pizza by yourself last week."
"I was hungry. And pregnant women get a pass."
"You're not pregnant anymore."
"Could be again," I say, watching his reaction.
His eyes go wide. "Are you—"
"No. Not yet. But someday." I take Emilia from him, settling her on my hip. "Maybe when this one's a little older and actually sleeping through the night."
"Sounds like a plan." He wraps his arms around both of us. "God, I love our life."
"Me too."
And I mean it. Every word.
This messy, chaotic, beautiful life we've built together, it's everything I never knew I wanted and everything I never thought I'd have.
The quiet librarian and the city doctor who came home.
Finally, perfectly, completely in love.
Thank you for reading it!