Epilogue
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One Year Later
B etween the hammering and Toby’s singing, I can’t tell what’s making the baby cry louder.
“Are you shitting me right now?” I snap at my brother. “Emerson is going to have your ass if you don’t get dressed!”
I reach for our daughter as he continues howling off-tune, but Toby clings possessively to our infant child as he twirls around the house, the banging outside reaching a fever pitch.
I throw up my hands in disgust. “Where is Owen?”
“I’m here!” Our other brother materializes from the back hallway.
Lucy continues to bawl, and suddenly, the hammering stops. “Well, that’s one good sign at least,” I say hopefully, hurrying toward the living room window.
Lucy’s sobs subside, and Toby’s horrific singing slows with it. To my utter relief, the workers outside the window pack up their trucks and begin to load.
“Oh, hallelujah! They’re done! They actually finished!” I say, feeling exasperated.
“Look at your silly Daddy,” Toby coos, dancing around the living room with the baby. “He’s so happy when things run according to schedule, isn’t he?”
“Toby…” I tell him warningly. “You have to get ready.”
“He’s just all schedules and formulas,” Toby tells our child, ignoring me.
Owen smirks. “Look how our little brother behaves when the boss isn’t here to keep him in line.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “That’s all right.” I head to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. “If he doesn’t make it on time, we’ll just do it without him. I’m sure Emmy won’t mind.”
Toby stiffens, abruptly handing Lucy to Owen before hurrying toward his room to change.
We both snicker in his absence.
“There is nothing he will not do for that woman,” I say.
"That's rich, coming from you," Owen quips as Lucy coos in his arms.
But Toby has really come a long way, and we are all so proud of what he’s accomplished.
His wild horse program finally took off six months ago.
After he and Emerson got enough community support and returned to the town council with real numbers and a solid plan, even the mayor couldn't say no.
The program has already rescued thirty-two horses, with seventeen successfully rehabilitated and placed with local ranchers.
The rest live on the protected fifty acres we secured through grants and donations.
It's become the pride of Pine Sky, with ranchers who initially scoffed now volunteering their time.
Nothing beats watching Toby with those horses.
I extend my arms to take our baby, and Owen hands her off to me.
“How does it look?” Owen asks.
I amble back toward the living room window with Lucy and peel back the blinds to take in the makeshift stage in the middle of the center corral.
“It looks pretty good,” I say, nodding in approval. “I think it’s going to be good today.”
My eyes turn toward the massive, white tent on the side of the barn, and my heart rate skips. In just a few hours, the ranch will be crawling with guests and staff, all here to celebrate a momentous event.
Lucy curls against my chest and closes her eyes, her little heart thumping against mine. The feel of her body against mine awakens something inside me I never knew existed, this fierce, instinctive need to protect and cherish that only parenthood can bring.
I hum softly to lull her to sleep, watching her huge, blue-gray eyes droop.
We’ll never know which one of us really fathered her, nor do we truly care. We only know that we love her more fiercely than we love ourselves and would do anything to keep her safe.
“Want me to put her down?” Owen asks in a low voice.
I shake my head. “Nah. I like holding her when she’s like this. It reminds me that she’s quiet sometimes.”
Owen holds back a laugh. “I should go make sure the other child isn’t putting his bowtie on backward.”
“I’ll go make sure everything’s ready for the guests. They should be arriving soon.”
In the bright October sunshine, I make my way across the ranch, nodding at the staff who beam at me mischievously.
Some of them are still having a bit of trouble with the whole arrangement here—mostly because they don’t understand what the hell is going on.
They’re not clear if one of us is with Emerson, or who the father of the baby is. On some drunken nights, the more brazen idiots think it right to ask, but they’re quickly shut down by the more seasoned staff members.
That’s another reason for today’s ceremony.
But for the most part, we’re met with the respect we deserve because we treat everyone else with the same respect.
Lucy sighs, and I adjust my daughter in my arms.
“Psst!”
I whip my head around as Emerson walks into the room.
“Bring me my baby,” she commands me.
Surprised, I amble toward her as Mae appears, scowling furiously at both of us from behind her.
"It's one thing to break traditional norms with your unique arrangement, but I thought we'd at least follow proper wedding customs," she comments with a sigh.
Emerson takes Lucy, her face brightening with pure joy as she holds her daughter close, like someone finally reunited with their most precious treasure.
“You couldn’t even watch the baby for a couple of hours?” Mae scolds me.
Offended, I raise my hands, but Emerson jumps to my defense.
“He did nothing wrong. I wanted to see her,” she insists.
As she takes a deep inhale of Lucy’s head, I look at her beautiful off-the-shoulder gown.
She takes my breath away, her cheeks flushed and happy, the color spiraling up the curves of her elegant, bare neck.
“You’re not supposed to see her before the ceremony!” Mae barks, catching my look.
“I feel like we might have completely forsaken tradition, Mae,” Emerson tells her tiredly.
Mae rolls her eyes. “What is the point of even having a matron of honor if you’re not going to listen to anything I have to say?”
“Moral support?” Emerson suggests, offering her friend a half-hug.
Mae’s face softens.
“Give the man the baby, and let me finish your makeup at least,” Mae begs. “We don’t have much time left.”
“All right.” Reluctantly, Emerson hands Lucy back to me, and I resist the urge to kiss her cheek under Mae’s watchful eye.
"Next time I see you, we'll be making history," I say with a smile.
Emerson bites her lower lip. “I love you, Brock.”
“I love you, too,” I tell her. “More and more every day.”
Walking toward the back of the house, I find my brothers. To my relief, Toby looks decently put together, although I have to wonder how much help Owen gave him.
“Well?” Owen asks, noting my slightly frazzled expression.
“We need to dress this kid,” I tell them, a flutter of anticipation rising in my chest. “And then it’s almost showtime.”
The words hit like magic, and Lucy rouses from her nap. She kicks her little feet and fusses as we bring her to the nursery, next to the main bedroom.
In minutes, she’s bundled in the sweetest cowgirl getup, complete with the matching hat that accents ours, and I strap her into Owen’s front carrier as we leave the house together.
Toby stops suddenly.
“What?” I demand impatiently. “Hurry up.”
He swallows and looks out into the growing crowd of people, blinking as if he realizes what we’re doing.
“Are we really doing this?”
Owen frowns. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asks nervously, glancing back at the corral where Emerson’s friends and parents had joined us.
Our staff mills about, and employees from the catering company serve drinks. A massive ice sculpture of a bucking bronco sits in the middle of the festivities.
“No!” Toby laughs. “I just can’t believe it’s really happening!”
I exhale with relief. “Me neither,” I agree. “I feel like it’s been a long road to get here.”
“Me too.”
The tent flap opens, and across the yard, my eyes meet Emerson’s. Her smile radiates even from the distance between us.
“Come on, boys,” I order my siblings. “Let’s go marry the woman we love.”
“Let’s go marry your mama,” Owen whispers to Lucy.
* * *