Epilogue
Brandee
One Year Later
I can hear the roar of engines even now, though no cars are on the track. Maybe it’s a memory from the many days and nights I’ve spent with Brew at speedways across the country. Maybe it’s magic. Either way, it feels like home.
The sun spills golden light across the infield of the Nashville Speedway, painting the grass with warmth and settling in the folds of my gown.
The whole place has been transformed. Ribbons of wildflowers and strings of lights sway gently in the breeze.
Guests are seated in white folding chairs, arranged in a half-moon curve around us.
A wedding on a racetrack wasn’t exactly how I imagined this day once upon a time, but as I stand here now, with the scent of peonies in the air and the grandstand casting a long, protective shadow behind us, it feels perfect.
Brew smiles at me like I’m a dream he wished into existence, standing with Lennon and Wade.
I wait impatiently as my friend and neighbor—before Weston Tuttle stole her away—Anna, wearing her champagne-colored dress, walks her daughter, Kaela, down the white carpet-covered aisle, the little girl tossing pink petals from her basket as the crowd gasps in delight.
Isley follows in her champagne silk gown.
I clutch my bouquet tighter. My hands aren’t shaking, but my heart is pounding like it’s trying to match the pace of a NASCAR engine.
I steal a glance over the audience and see everyone we love—Aunt Ida and Brew’s mom dabbing their eyes with monogrammed handkerchiefs; his grandfather, Brewster Cartwright Sr., sitting ramrod straight with pride; and friends from Sandcastle Cove and Balsam Ridge melting into each other like they’ve always belonged in the same frame.
It’s surreal, like two halves of our lives finally saying, Let’s meet in the middle .
And here we are—marrying in a place where rubber and asphalt tell a story, but today, it’s our names that echo in the wind.
The strumming of a guitar starts, followed by Garrett’s voice, and a hush falls over the venue. Everyone stands to watch as my father walks me toward my future.
Brew takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my wrist, grounding me. We’re standing under an arbor made from salvaged driftwood from Brew’s island home, ivy curling around it, fresh and stubborn. Someone—probably Sara-Beth and Leona—tucked in a few sunflowers, a nod to fall in the Smoky Mountains.
The officiant clears his throat, and I half expect a revving engine or a cheer from the bleachers, but instead, there’s stillness. A reverence. This wild, raucous place has gone quiet, just for us.
“Brandee and Brew have asked to speak their vows,” the officiant says.
My breath catches in my chest.
Brew goes first. He takes my other hand in his, anchoring us together. “When I first met you, Brandee Chatlee, you were the beauty sitting at my bar.”
Everyone laughs, and I do, too, tears threatening already.
“I didn’t know it then, but I was a drifter—a man racing his way through a busy life, never stopping long enough to realize something was missing.
You brought color into my world, fire into my veins, and peace to my heart.
You are my anchor, my home, and I promise to be yours.
I promise to grow beside you and to always, always find my way back to you, no matter where the road leads me. ”
A cheer breaks from the crowd—mostly the girls from Sandcastle Cove—and I squeeze his fingers.
I try to breathe, and then I speak. “Brew Cartwright,” I say, “you were the most unexpected detour of my life. I was just a mountain girl on sabbatical, not looking for anything, but yearning for something. And somehow, we found each other. You taught me to slow down, listen, and trust that things don’t need to make perfect sense to be perfect.
You are the stubborn, sweet, infuriating, and incredible thing that was missing in my life.
I promise to hold your hand on the hard turns and cheer you on in the straightaways.
I promise to never let us lose our spark, even when the track gets bumpy.
And I promise to always be waiting at the end of your bar. ”
That gets an, “Amen,” from old man Willis.
Next we exchange rings. Brew slides the gorgeous eternity band on my finger and I tremble slightly as I place the black titanium band onto his. He doesn’t stop smiling, not once.
When the officiant says, “You may kiss your bride,” the entire crowd rises like a wave behind us.
Brew pulls me close, and the kiss we share isn’t just for show; it’s a promise. A pause between the end of our separate lives and the start of another one together. It tastes like honeysuckle and happiness, a culmination of every mile we’ve traveled to get here.
As we turn to face everyone, cheers erupt like fireworks.
Confetti cannons blast gold and white petals into the sky, and someone revs an engine from the pits.
Brewster Sr. nods his approval from the front row, and for a man who’s built an empire on horsepower and grit, he’s not afraid to show his softer side as he wipes away a tear.
We walk down the makeshift aisle as husband and wife, flanked by the people who mean the most to us.
Erin is crying into Taeli’s shoulder while Graham lifts his daughter onto his hip and shouts, “Go Team Cartwright!”
The reception is in the upscale Speedway Club, overlooking the track. It’s a swirl of laughter, Southern comfort food, expensive champagne, and every country love song ever written—a beautiful contradiction, just like us.
We escape for our first dance in the middle of the track as the sun disappears and the sky turns a deep purple with the stars beginning to twinkle like fireflies.
Brew wraps his arms around me as the music swells. “Are you happy, Mrs. Cartwright?” he asks.
A warmth spreads through me at the sound of my new name. I nod, closing my eyes and resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“So happy,” I whisper.
The lights around the track begin to glow, one by one, as our guests start to trickle out to join us on the dance floor beneath the moon, which creates soft halos around the people we love.
There will be late night dancing and stories told over banana pudding, served in mini gold trophy cups, and slices of cake. We will create a lifetime filled with races, rest days, and road trips, along with mountain homes and seaside mansions.
But tonight, it all begins here—with love, laughter, and the two of us taking our victory lap.
Together.