Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
“How’s Scotland?”
Sienna asks through the FaceTime screen while shoveling tandoori chicken into her mouth.
I’m pretty sure I’m drooling.
“Worst day ever,” I say over the rain lashing against the trailer windows. At this point, the weather feels biblical.
“You say that every day, Ava.”
“And every day it’s true.” I groan and sink deeper into my on-location trailer. “Today it’s true because there’s no working heater in here.”
“I’m on it.” She immediately makes a note.
I stuff another pillow behind my back on the sofa. “Today’s scene involved mud, sleet, and a corset they obviously retrieved from a medieval torture chamber.”
“You’re living the dream.”
“I’m living hypothermia with a side of sadism.”
I glance toward the trailer window where rolling green hills disappear beneath dark storm clouds.
“It’s beautiful here,” I admit. “In a very moody, haunted, probably cursed kind of way.”
“So Princess Luna’s brand is taking a dark turn.”
“You have no idea.”
I puff my bangs out of my face and shove another delectable little square into my mouth.
Sienna narrows her eyes. “Okay, what are you eating? And why do I suddenly need twelve of them?”
I hold up the tiny buttery square. “It’s called Scottish tablet.”
Sienna points her wineglass at me. “Now TikTok me like I’m scrolling at two a.m. and you’ve got an affiliate link.”
I showcase the tiny buttery square like I’m about to launch a lifestyle brand. “Seriously addictive. If fudge and shortbread hooked up during a toxic situationship and somehow produced the perfect buttery little love child…” I pop it into my mouth. “This. This is the baby.”
Sienna snorts into her wine.
I point dramatically at the screen. “It tastes like forgetting your problems.” I nod solemnly. “Ten out of ten. Would absolutely ruin my life again.”
Sienna slowly sips her chardonnay. “I swear to God, if you don’t overnight me some immediately, I’m replacing your entire glam team’s makeup cart with Crayola markers.”
I sigh blissfully as the tablet melts on my tongue.
“And this is why I nearly went ballistic on wardrobe today.”
Sienna drops her fork with a loud clank against her plate. “If they mention your weight one more time, I’m flying to Scotland and feeding every hand-stitched gown in wardrobe straight through a shredder.”
“Right? If one more person tells me they expected me to be smaller, I’m going to disappear into the Highlands and spend the next three hundred years haunting their asses.”
“Ooh, Princess Luna goes dark. Yes.”
“I’ll stand in the fog whispering, ‘Size fourrrr…’”
Sienna snorts so hard she nearly chokes. “Oh. Hang on. I almost forgot.”
She comes back holding up a crayon drawing covered in stars, crooked books, and what I think is supposed to be a purple backpack. With a big Thank you haloed several times in the colors of the rainbow.
My entire face softens. “Okay, that’s adorable. Who’s it from?”
“Mick’s granddaughter.” Sienna smiles. “Apparently she takes her bookbag everywhere.”
My chest squeezes a little.
“Mick says he owes you.”
“Considering I’d kill for a good old-fashioned cheeseburger and fries right now, I fully intend to collect.”
A production assistant knocks on my trailer door and pokes his head in.
“Five minute warning, Ms. Alvarez.”
“Thanks.”
The door shuts again.
I let out a long breath.
Sienna studies me quietly for a second.
Then softer, “How are you really?”
My smile slips a little.
“Tired.”
Sienna points her wineglass at me. “You’re stress starved and one corset fitting from snapping. Eat another one.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Pastry therapy is medically necessary.”
“Can I get a doctor’s note?”
“Already writing it. Looks extremely official.”
By the time we wrap for the day, I’m running on fumes.
Rain batters the windshield the entire drive, turning the Scottish countryside into a watercolor blur of hills, stone fences, and gray sky.
But we’re finally driving home.
And by we, I mean Travis.
Harrison officially reached his limit on strangers invading my personal space in Ireland. I thought I owed the paps and every well-intentioned person wanting one selfie. Like it was part of the job.
Harrison showed me the light.
Travis has now been promoted to full-time bodyguard, part-time chauffeur, and reluctant babysitter to one emotionally exhausted actress.
He’s incredible at all three.
“You holding up okay?” he asks, glancing over with those annoyingly perceptive eyes.
I sink deeper into the seat. “I’m fine. Just wiped out.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Good news. Full blanket burrito mode starts in twenty minutes. And not in a stuffy hotel.”
Instantly, all the tension of the day melts away.
Sienna went absolutely feral renegotiating my contract, and somehow the studio folded like a lawn chair in a hurricane.
Which is how a private little cottage tucked deep into the Scottish countryside became the best perk ever.
Close enough to the city to explore.
Far enough away to breathe.
I shut my eyes for half a second, and suddenly we’re pulling into the drive. I’m more tired than I thought.
He grabs an umbrella and walks me to the door while rain lashes sideways across the cottage drive.
“Why is Scottish rain like this?” I mutter, fishing out my key.
“Like what?”
“Paranormal waterpark.”
Travis chuckles.
I open the door. “Tea before you go?”
He shakes his head. I’m pretty sure he’s already mentally halfway into sweatpants and a scotch.
“You sure you don’t need anything before I head out?” Travis asks.
By head out, he means drive approximately ten feet to the cottage next door.
“Nope,” I say gratefully. “I’m good.”
“Alright.” He nods once. “See you in the morning.”
I duck inside and shut the world behind me.
Silence settles over the cottage. I drop my backpack beside the couch and toe off my boots.
The housekeeper has the lights on and a fire crackling, and the whole cottage feels warm.
But there’s no noise, and I have a real love-hate relationship with quiet.
There’s a fine line between it wrapping around you like cashmere and smothering you, mobster style.
It’s the peace I beg for all day long.
And the second it arrives… I miss them the most.
Thunder rolls somewhere in the distance.
Definitely a bath night.
I crouch beside the fireplace and slip another log in before my gaze drifts to our wedding picture on the mantle.
I hold it in my hands for a good, long look.
Harrison and I both look so stupidly happy. We all do.
Not posed happy either.
Everyone’s in it, with me, Harrison, and the kids front and center. All of us laughing hysterically while a rogue goat blurs across the frame.
It’s been nearly a year since then.
A year since I’ve set foot on Bishop Mountain.
The fire crackles softly behind me while rain lashes the windows. The cottage creaks again, old wood groaning somewhere deep in the walls, and for one strange second, I can’t tell if someone’s at the door, or if I’m hearing things.
My pulse stutters as I slowly turn toward the front door.
The cottage settles into silence again.
Is all of Scotland haunted, or just this cottage?
Another thud, and before I can get to the door, it flies open.
“Mom! We’re home!”
I compare the photo in my hands to the kids trampling in the local school uniforms.
Connor’s nearly fifteen and inching up on Harrison’s height.
Ollie’s a foot taller than when my arm was around him in the shot.
And Snooki’s almost too much for me to pick up. But when she launches herself at me in mismatched rain boots and sparkly fairy wings, I catch her like I always do.
I have to do it while I can before she’s off for college.
“I saw a unicorn!”
I hold her laughing. “Really?”
“I did too,” Ollie argues, rushing in behind her. “It was white and sparkly and—”
“It was a sheep,” Connor deadpans, hanging up Ollie’s and Snooki’s coats they dropped on the floor.
“They can put up their own coats.”
“Not without you reminding them five times. You’ve had a long day.”
I pop Snooki down as Ollie continues. “Well, it was a magical sheep,” he insists, making magician hands. “And the beast was fookin’ massive.”
I blink just as Harrison walks in behind them.
He and Connor both chuckle under their breaths as Harrison kicks the door shut.
He’s carrying takeout bags in one hand and what appears to be a completely useless umbrella in the other.
He drops it instantly by the door and flashes a devastating smile.
How Harrison makes dripping wet look sexy as hell is beyond me.
I guess once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
That’s when the smell hits me. I rummage through the bags in his hands like a starved squirrel. “Chinese takeout? You’re the sexiest man alive.”
Harrison replies with two deep, masculine grunts. “Keep family fed. Caveman work done.”
He then hands the food to Ollie and Snook.
“Can you guys set the table?”
“Yes!” They each hoard a bag, probably just as happy as I am for noodles and egg rolls.
I kiss him, then lower my voice. “You realize your son just said a swear word. In a Scottish accent.”
Harrison gives a helpless shrug with a charmed what can I do dimple. “His school is located approximately six feet from a pub.”
“This tiny village has turned our son into a very small drunk Scotsman.” I shake my head.
Harrison’s mouth twitches.
“He probably doesn’t even know it’s a swear word.”
“Well, his teacher sure as shite will.” I point at him. “And the next parent-teacher conference is entirely your problem.”
Connor finishes making sure the shoes are all neatly by the door, before giving a satisfied nod. “Don’t worry,” he says with calm assurance. “I’ll talk to Ollie about language.”
He kisses my cheek and heads to the kitchen.
And just like that, I get hit with the sudden terrifying realization that my sweet zombie-loving kid is turning into a man before my eyes.
An old man.
That’s it. We’re spending an entire weekend killing zombies until Connor remembers he’s not even fifteen.
Harrison slides a hand around my back, and the second he touches me, the whole world settles.
I set the wedding photo carefully back on the mantle just as Harrison pulls a familiar little purple box from his pocket.
My eyes go wide.
Highland Truffles.
My new favorite brand.
This man obviously knows the way to my heart is through copious amounts of chocolate.
His smile warms as he takes in our wedding photo.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he murmurs against my temple.
Then his hand glides lower.
Right over my stomach.
Impossibly reverent.
His palm rests over the tiny life growing inside me, and emotion clogs my throat so fast my eyes instantly sting.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gently.
I shake my head with a watery laugh. “Overly emotional.”
“Dr. MacKenzie said your hormones might get a little haywire.”
“By a little haywire, I think she meant weepy fire-breathing dragon. Just ask the costume department.”
“I’m sure they deserved it,” he says, laying tender kisses along my neck.
“Damn straight. They put me in corset prison.”
“Those bastards.”
He rubs my shoulder, and I practically melt into him.
“After dinner, bath, foot massage, and bed, mama.”
Oh, I love this man.
I lift one of my ginormous feet. “I love you too much to let you do that. We’re operating at full yeti levels over here.”
Harrison’s expression turns solemn. Brave, even.
“Lumberjacks fear no squatch.”
I snort.
“That confidence is coming from a man who hasn’t actually witnessed the damage yet.”
“The more of you to love,” he says, sliding his arms around me.
And I stand there wrapped in Harrison Evans, my accidental forever after.
A man I could love for a hundred lifetimes and still never run out of reasons why.