Epilogue
SLOANE
The Following May
Molly’s bathroom counter is buried under five open eyeshadow palettes, a curling iron that’s tripped the breaker twice, and enough hair product to stock a small Sephora.
I’m so damn happy watching my six best friends alternately cram into the space while a Bluetooth speaker blasts Avah’s “elite” throwback playlist. Did you catch the figurative air quotes around elite? I stand by those, but every time one of us complains, Avah turns up the volume.
“You can’t follow Ke$ha with an Adele ballad,” Iris says. “I’m getting vibe whiplash.”
“Love me, love my vibe,” Avah counters as she leans toward the mirror to apply a coat of mascara. “We’re honoring an entire era here.”
The era is my senior year of high school, when I didn’t make it to my prom. I still can’t believe Jensen remembered the story, but one of his most annoying and also amazing skills is the ability to hear all the things I don’t say, even when they mean the most.
So tonight, Molly and Chase are hosting the Cool Girl Book Club prom in their barn. All because the man I love heard a throwaway story about a ruined dress and a missed teenage milestone and decided to give me a new memory to replace it.
I still don’t know the theme, although Jensen has been working on decorations for a week.
He and the rest of the guys, along with Molly’s twins, spent most of last night getting the barn ready for the big event.
Word on the street is my brother developed an unnatural attachment to the staple gun.
That was as much detail as Jensen was willing to give me when he crawled into bed after eleven, but he promised the surprise would be worth waiting for.
I love that he fits here with my found-family friends.
The nine months of back-and-forth between Skylark and Tennessee haven’t been easy, but they’ve solidified Jensen’s place among my people.
Chase and the twins take him on long trail rides while Ian drags him to the gym and calls it altitude acclimation.
He’s a regular at Eric’s pick-up hockey games and has read all of Jake’s books.
He even cheers for Felix and the Denver Grizzlies every Sunday during football season, so long as they aren’t playing Tennessee.
It took Jeremy a minute to warm up, but the day my brother realized Jensen could handle a fly rod, their bromance was born.
It’s been a lot of miles and logistics as we both traveled back and forth. We’re making it work, and I’d choose the effort a million times over.
Molly tips my chin up with two fingers and goes after my lash line with a pencil. “Hold still, lady. I’m not sending you down those stairs with one raccoon eye.”
“Jensen would try to convince everyone it’s his favorite look,” Taylor says with a laugh.
I try to hide my smile, but warmth rushes through me in happy waves because she isn’t wrong.
Piper gently rocks her three-month-old from her perch on the edge of the tub. Isla’s onesie reads “Daddy’s Girl. Back off.”, and she’s holding onto a fistful of Piper’s blonde hair like she never plans to let go.
“Did Felix pick out that shirt?” I ask, grinning at the happy baby.
“Of course.” Piper rolls her eyes but smiles back at me. “He got one for Ellie, too.”
“He’s an excellent girl dad,” Iris says.
“They have him wrapped around their tiny fingers.” Piper's smile softens. “He nearly cried when Ellie threw a perfect spiral with her little toy football.”
A snort escapes me, and Molly yanks the pencil back before I take a graphite streak to the temple.
“Still,” she commands like the gentle dictator she can be when she sets her mind to it.
“Has Riva checked in?” Piper asks when Sadie appears in the doorway.
“She just sent proof of life pics,” Sadie confirms. “Henry has a colander on his head, and Ellie has a pillowcase superhero cape around her shoulders. They’re in heaven.”
Sadie and Ian adopted three-year-old Henry at Christmas, and he and his cousin Ellie became immediate besties.
“It’s nice of Riva to babysit both of them,” I say. “She has her hands full.”
“She loves it,” Sadie assures me, her brown eyes taking on a dreamy look. “She’s the best big sister and cousin ever. Those two think she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. The hero worship has totally gone to her head, and I’m here for it.”
The easy laughter that follows settles somewhere deep inside me. For so long, I'd been afraid to picture a future. Now it's impossible not to. Not when it's sitting all around me in the lives of the people I love.
Molly finishes with a shimmer of highlighter across my cheekbones and steps back to admire her work. “You look even more beautiful if that’s possible.”
Before Molly did her makeup magic, Iris curled my hair, which now falls just below my shoulders.
The dress I picked for book club prom is deep blue, the color of the Colorado sky as night takes over from daytime.
It has a scooped neckline that shows the top edge of my port scar and is gathered at the waist before flaring to my ankles.
It fits the body I have now, the one that fought like hell and won.
I don’t recognize the woman in the glass, and then I do, which undoes me just a little because she looks like someone who expects good things to happen to her.
“Thank you,” I manage. “For everything.”
“Our fearless leader and prom queen,” Iris says.
“Not fearless.” I meet her gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “But happy anyway.”
“And speaking of queen energy, can we have a moment to honor our girl moving into her maintenance era?” Piper asks casually. At least as casual as a nurse can be when she’s discussing test results.
Sadie shakes her head. “You’re as subtle as a wrecking ball, sis.”
“She’s right, though,” Avah says. “You did it, Sloane.”
“We did it,” I clarify, then blink when tears sting the back of my eyes.
Last week, I officially finished the drug trial and got to ring the bell on the hospital’s oncology floor.
I’ll have scans and blood work every six months for the next few years, but a blessedly boring relationship with the hospital instead of a steady one.
“I’m not sure how I would have made it through the past two years without you guys. ”
A round of hugs and tissue dabbing commences in the crowded space until Iris claps her hands and tells us it’s time to get our prom vibe on.
And as I follow my friends through the house, I think about what I built when I started the book club.
I picked them without knowing what we’d become or that each of us was quietly drowning in our own way.
But we made it back to shore together, and I wouldn’t trade everything we’ve been through because it got us to this moment. And this moment is absolutely perfect.
Silence falls over the group as we step outside onto the covered porch—an almost never-occurrence for this crew.
But the guys are lined up in front of the open barn doors across the driveway, every one of them in a tux.
They’re scrubbed, combed, and resemble a grown-up boy band at an awards show they didn’t realize they were obligated to attend.
My brother breaks into a shit-eating grin when Avah gasps, and I adore the way the two of them love each other.
Ian, who fills out his jacket like a man who used to get paid to be enormous, winks at Sadie, and she lets out a little moan in response.
Jake’s hand is already out, ready to take hold of Iris.
Eric beams at Taylor even as he curls two fingers into his collar.
I didn’t think Eric would willingly put on a tux for all the money in the world.
Chase, who’s in a bolo tie because, of course, has a protective hand on each of the twins’ shoulders.
And Felix—sweet, giant Felix—swipes a hand across his cheek as Piper lifts baby Isla’s hand to wave at him.
Then there’s Jensen. The midnight-blue bow tie and cummerbund should make him look ridiculous, but his commitment to the theme has my pulse stuttering. Apparently, we’re really doing prom, and he's determined to make sure I never forget it.
Dark hair brushes the collar of his tux, unruly despite his obvious attempt to tame it, and his gaze locks onto mine.
“Hi,” I say when I’m closer. Once again, the ability to speak in complete sentences has deserted me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sloane.”
“You clean up pretty nice yourself, Nashville.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Are you ready for prom, Sunshine?”
“Depends.” I arch a brow and then glance toward his feet. “Are there blisters involved with those dress shoes?”
“Not this time, even though you’d be worth it.” His mouth curves. “Again.”
He laces his fingers in mine, and we walk through the barn doors. The air leaves my lungs in one slow whoosh as I take it all in.
They’ve turned the inside of the barn into a real-life forest with pine boughs fastened to every beam, aspen saplings planted in galvanized buckets around the perimeter, and Meadow Blooms wildflowers threaded through all of it, a riot of texture and color and thoughtfulness that makes my heart fling itself against my rib cage.
Strands of fairy lights hang from the rafters, less a ceiling and more a twinkling indoor sky.
There’s even mist, from a machine I can hear humming somewhere out of sight.
It curls between the trees like the fog that wrapped the trail the morning he introduced me to Brigadoon.
For the record, I’ve watched the Gene Kelly movie four times since and insisted we see a live production over Christmas.
“Jensen.” I glance toward my friends and their partners, and press my lips into a tight line to keep from completely losing it. “You guys.”
“There’s more,” Jeremy says, as if this isn’t already too much.
Jensen turns me toward the opposite wall, and I do, in fact, lose it.