Epilogue
ASPEN
Eighteen months later . . .
There’s still no view like this one. Although I’ll be the first to admit that not having to climb a ladder to see it is pretty nice.
The sliding door opens behind me with a snick before a wineglass is pressed into my hand. Hard planes of muscle press flush to my back as Emmett ropes an arm around my waist and buries his face in my neck. That move still sends goosebumps racing over my arms.
“How’d I know I’d find you out here?”
With him holding me, everything is right in the world as I look out over the dark mountain and the glittering stars.
It’s too dark to see it, but I know the camper sits just to the side of our A-frame, right where it was parked that first time Emmett brought me here.
No matter where we take it for long weekends, it always makes it back here.
It’s a staple in our lives these days—hosting friends and family when they come here to spend time with us.
“Well, it is my favorite place in the world.”
“The forecast shows a chance of auroras tonight.”
Of course, I know that. I’ve got alerts set on my phone because missing them is a crime, but I play along. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh.” His lips move until they’re brushing the shelf of my ear, making me shiver. “I checked.”
There’s a hint of playfulness in his tone, like he’s got something up his sleeve.
“You checked?” I tease.
He chuckles against my neck. “Uh huh, I know how much my girl hates to miss them.”
Emmett still loves to mess with me any chance he gets.
And I can’t deny it’s a look I love to see him wear.
Especially after days like today.
Our visit with Monica this morning was short, like they often are now. It started out as one of the good ones.
She knew Emmett on sight and smiled when we walked in, which feels like a win alone.
In true Monica fashion she gave Emmett a hard time about shaving and asked me if he’s always so stubborn. When I said yes, she laughed so hard that she got the hiccups.
There are pieces of Monica that are harder to find these days. But for thirty minutes, there was more laughter than confusion.
Until there wasn’t.
His arms tighten around me. I swear this man can read my mind—always could.
“Today was still a good day,” he says.
Tears sting the back of my eyes because the Emmett I first met wouldn’t have believed that. Hell, the Emmett that pushed me away the day see fell wouldn’t have either.
“It was,” I agree.
His thumb traces along my hip. “Her laugh is really something.”
These days, Emmett isn’t as easily trapped by shitty circumstances.
Loving someone with dementia never stops hurting, but he doesn’t spend the good moments waiting for the bad ones anymore.
It’s an outlook he works hard for every single day.
Seeing Harvey every other week, even when he swears he’s fine, is a big part of that. Although, to be fair, these days, when Emmett Slate says he’s fine, I believe him.
“I never told you; she asked about you last week.”
“Duh, I’m her favorite,” I tease.
He hums, knowing as well as I do that it’s true.
“I can’t even blame her for it.”
I turn in his arms, sensing from the slight tremble in his voice that there’s more to this than just a casual mention.
“She was looking at the picture of us from Founder’s Day earlier this summer.”
I know exactly which one he’s talking about.
“I love that one.”
He huffs out a resigned grunt, probably remembering the stunt the girls and I pulled, tricking the guys into wearing matching outfits.
No one’s reaction was better than Emmett’s. But the best part of the night was when we got home and he edged me within an inch of my life as payback.
“She asked if I’d married you yet.”
Swallowing around the lump in my throat proves impossible as Emmett looks down at me with never-ending love and admiration. I take a sip of my wine, but it doesn’t help.
Somehow I manage to form words. Shocking, since my tongue is no better than a strip of leather in my mouth. “And what did you say?”
The pause before he answers feels like an eternity. “That I was working on it.”
He steps back a fraction of an inch, just enough to slip his hand into his pocket, where it stays. “She called me an idiot.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Your grandmother called you an idiot?”
“More or less.”
“What did she actually say?”
His mouth curves. “That I was old enough to know better than to let a good thing get away.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She wasn’t wrong.”
His hand reappears. In it, is a wooden box. Before I can react, he drops to one knee. My wine glass slips through my fingers. I barely catch it before setting it down on the railing where it’s safe. My hand shakes, and it takes me a second to make sure it’s steady.
“So, I showed her this.”
My hands cover my mouth, and the tears aren’t just stinging now, they’re falling freely. “Emmett,” I say softly.
“Yeah, Angel?”
“Is that . . .”
“Yeah, it is.”
The box opens, and the moon catches on the stone. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen.---a thin gold band and deep green stone, almost as if he somehow put this entire mountain with its pines into something I can wear.
“I spent a lot of my life thinking that loving people meant losing them.”
My vision blurs, but I blink through the tears so I don’t miss a thing. “Em.”
“And maybe that’s still true.” He reaches for my hand, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “No one really gets forever. But I want every single day I do get to look like this.”
He licks his lips, gazing up at me. The way he looks at me makes the tears fall faster. “Aspen, will you marry me?
“Yes. Everyday, yes,” I say through my sniffles, dropping to my knees beside him and taking his face in my hands. “You’re mine and I’m yours until the end of time, Emmett Slate.”
His forehead falls gently against mine and his eyes close.
I smile through the sting in my throat. “Emmett?”
His laugh is quiet and raspy. “Yeah?”
“You gonna put the ring on me, or are we just going to stare at each other all night?”
A puff of air leaves him. “Right.”
His fingers are steadier than mine as he slides the ring onto my hand.
I can’t look away. It’s not huge or flashy—nothing about Emmett has ever been about proving anything to anyone.
It’s simple, beautiful, and perfectly us.
He stands, stepping into my space. His eyes close for a second, like he’s letting himself believe this is real life.
Then he kisses me slow and deep, like we’ve got all the time in the world.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into the warmth of his chest, and I smile against his mouth.
“You’re stuck with me now, Slate.”
His forehead drops to mine. “Good.”
I flash of green cuts across my vision, and at first I think it’s the stone on my finger catching the moonlight
But then Emmett looks up. I follow his gaze.
Auroras dance in the night sky.
I look back at him. “You planned this didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah, I called up Mother Nature and told her all about my proposal plans—asked her to pencil me in.”
He pulls me down on the chaise with him, my back against his, arms wrapped around me as the sky puts on a show.
Yep, this is definitely the best view anywhere.
Well, except maybe the one behind me.