Epilogue
LAUREN
The Four Brothers holiday party is at a restaurant in Nashville. The room is strung with thousands of white lights, transforming the industrial space into something magical. I clutch my guitar case a little tighter as Dylan guides me through the crowd with his hand on the small of my back.
"You're going to be amazing," he murmurs in my ear.
"I'm terrified," I admit. "What if they hate it?"
"Impossible. Also, you've played for way tougher crowds than my family and friends."
He's right, but this feels different. These are Dylan's people—his brothers, his parents, employees and distributors who've built Four Brothers from the ground up. And somewhere in this crowd is Jolene Hart, who I texted this morning to let her know I'd be playing tonight.
Malcolm appears with drinks. He has a bourbon for Dylan, something pink and festive for me. "You must be Lauren. I've heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope."
"Well, Ian did mention Dylan's singing debut at the holiday market." Malcolm's eyes crinkle with amusement. "We've watched that video approximately four hundred times."
I laugh, relaxing slightly. Dylan's brothers are as charming as he promised.
Ian joins us next, and the resemblance to Dylan is uncanny. "The famous Lauren. Dylan hasn't shut up about you for three weeks."
"Ian," Dylan warns, but he's smiling.
"I'm just saying, it's nice to see you happy." Ian claps his brother on the shoulder before melting back into the crowd.
When it's time for me to play, Dylan walks me to the small stage they've set up. The crowd quiets as I settle onto the stool and adjust my guitar.
"Hi everyone. I'm Lauren Scott, and I write songs for a living." Deep breath. "Three weeks ago, I got snowed in at a cabin with a complete stranger who turned out to be Dylan Lennox. That weekend inspired this song."
As I start playing, the words flow out. The story of us, of marshmallows and bourbon, of blanket forts and taking chances.
It’s an upbeat song, classic Christmas with a healthy dose of country storytelling, and a sentimental undertone.
The crowd is completely silent, and when I hit the final chorus, I can see Dylan standing at the back, his eyes never leaving my face.
The applause is thunderous. People are whistling and cheering, and Dylan is pushing through the crowd to get to me.
But someone else reaches me first.
Jolene Hart, resplendent in a sequined dress and her signature big hair, pulls me into a hug. "Honey, that was incredible. Melody Lee needs to hear this. Hell, I need to record this."
My heart stops. "Really?"
"Really. Call me Monday. We'll talk." She winks and disappears into the crowd.
Dylan finally reaches me, lifting me off the ground in a spinning hug. "You did it. You wrote your hit."
"I wrote our story," I correct, kissing him soundly.
"Even better."
Later, we stand outside under the stars, his arms wrapped around me against the cold. Inside, the party continues without us. “I’m proud of you for all you’ve done for Four Brothers,” I tell him. “This is an incredible party.”
"Thank you," Dylan says. "So…career success, check. Incredible boyfriend, check. What's next?"
"More songs. More of this." I gesture between us. "And maybe learning to actually like bourbon."
"I knew you'd come around eventually."
I laugh and let him kiss me again.
“Everything is snow much better,” I tell him.
He groans. But he says, “We need to talk about these rules. You’re really bad at following them.”
“Let’s not worry about rules. Let’s just live in the moment.”
“Merry Christmas, Lauren Louise.”
“Merry Christmas, Dylan James.”