Epilogue #2
A framed photo—the three of us from last summer.
TJ and me sitting on the front porch steps, Twinkle sprawled between us, all of us grinning at the camera like we didn't have a care in the world.
Melody had taken it during one of her visits, claimed it was "the most disgustingly cute thing she'd ever witnessed" before demanding copies for herself.
She'd also told me if TJ didn't propose soon, she was going to do it for him.
TJ stared at it for a long moment. A muscle jumped in his cheek.
"Hey." I touched his arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah." His voice came out rougher than usual.
He cleared his throat. "Just... a year ago I was alone.
Now I've got you. And her." He gestured to Twinkle, who'd rolled onto her back, paws in the air.
"And this life I didn't know I could have.
This house full of family and laughter and—" He stopped. "Sorry. Getting sentimental."
"Don't apologize." I leaned in, touching my forehead to his. "I know exactly what you mean."
Because I did. A year ago I'd been heartbroken and lost, trying to figure out who I was without Grayson.
Now I was here—with a man who looked at me like I'd hung the moon, doing a job I loved at the dental practice in Livingston, living in this beautiful house with a golden retriever who thought she was people.
"I love you," TJ said quietly, cupping my face in both hands. His palms were warm, callused from ranch work. "Just wanted to make sure you knew that."
"I know." I kissed him softly. "I love you too."
He set the frame down on the side table—carefully, like it mattered—then stood. "Your turn. Be right back."
He disappeared upstairs while I tried to get myself together. Twinkle rolled over and army-crawled closer, resting her chin on my foot. Comfort gesture. Smart dog knew when feelings were happening.
TJ returned with three wrapped boxes and set them on the coffee table with a grin that told me he was way too pleased with himself.
"Okay. This one first."
I tore into the wrapping paper—too impatient for his careful unwrapping method—and gasped when I saw what was inside.
Riding boots. Not just any riding boots—tall, gorgeous leather ones that must have cost a small fortune, the kind I'd been eyeing at the tack shop but couldn't justify buying when I was still learning.
"TJ, these are too expensive—"
"You've been learning to ride. You need proper boots." He was definitely grinning now. "Try them on."
I pulled them on, standing to settle my feet properly. They fit like they'd been made for me, butter-soft leather hugging my calves, low heel perfect for stirrups. I took a few steps, the leather flexing smoothly.
"How do they feel?"
"Like I should be in a magazine spread for 'Cowgirl Chic.'" I turned, modeling them. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful." No hesitation, no looking away. Just pure honesty in his dark eyes. "Though you'd look beautiful in a paper sack."
"Okay, now you're just flattering me."
"Just stating facts, ma'am."
I sat back down, running my hands over the smooth leather. "They're amazing. Thank you."
"Next one."
This box was softer. I opened it to find a sweater—thick, incredibly soft cashmere in deep green. The kind of luxury I never bought for myself because rent and student loans and practical decisions. I pulled it on immediately over TJ's shirt, and it felt like being wrapped in a cloud.
"Oh my god." I pressed my face into the collar. "This is the softest thing I've ever touched. I'm never taking this off."
"Looks good on you." His voice had gone warm in that way that meant he was genuinely happy. "Matches your eyes."
"My eyes are hazel."
"They look green right now. Must be the sweater."
I looked down at the soft cashmere, touched by the thoughtfulness. He'd been paying attention—knew I was always cold in the house during winter mornings, had seen me eyeing sweaters at the boutique in town but never buying them.
"Last one," he said, handing me the third box.
A cookbook. But not just any cookbook—The Rancher's Wife: Traditional Recipes for Modern Living. I flipped through pages of hearty stews, fresh bread recipes, Sunday pot roasts, comfort food designed for feeding ranch hands and family gatherings.
"I know you've been collecting recipes," TJ said. "Thought this might help. There's a whole section on baking that looked like your kind of thing."
My vision went blurry. Because this wasn't just a cookbook.
This was him seeing me as part of this life—permanently.
The rancher's wife. Someone who belonged here, in this house, in this world.
I remembered his hand on my knee under the table at dinner tonight, the quiet claim of it, the way he'd looked at me when Dale had made a toast about family.
Like I was already his and he wanted everyone to know it.
"Hey." He tilted my chin up. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." I wiped my eyes, laughing at myself. "I'm just happy. These are all so thoughtful. You actually pay attention to what I want."
"Of course I do." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the most important person in my life. Why wouldn't I pay attention?"
God. How had I gotten so lucky?
I set the cookbook aside carefully and launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Thank you. For all of it. For seeing me."
He pulled me against him, steady and warm.
We stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other. The fire crackled. Twinkle snored. Outside, snow continued its gentle fall.
Then TJ shifted, his voice going careful. "Actually... there's one more thing."
I pulled back. "TJ, this is already too much—"
"You might want to check Twinkle's collar."
I blinked. "What?"
"Her collar. Take a look."
Twinkle sat up at the attention, wagging so hard she nearly fell over. And there, dangling from her red collar next to her name tag, was a small wrapped box I definitely hadn't noticed before.
My heart stopped.
"TJ—"
"Just open it."
My hands were shaking as I reached for it. Had to take two tries to unknot the ribbon because my fingers wouldn't cooperate. The wrapping paper crinkled as I peeled it away, too loud in the sudden quiet of the room.
Inside was a ring box. Dark blue velvet, the kind that held something important. Something life-changing.
When I looked at TJ, he was sliding off the couch, getting on one knee on the rug in front of the fire.
"Oh my god." My voice came out as barely a whisper.
"Open it," he said softly.
I did. My hands were shaking so badly the box nearly tumbled out of my grip, but TJ's hand steadied mine. And there, nestled in white silk, was a ring.
A round diamond—clear and bright—set in a delicate yellow gold band. Small diamonds ran along the sides, catching the firelight and throwing tiny rainbows across my trembling fingers. Simple but stunning. Exactly what I would have picked for myself if I'd ever let myself dream this big.
"Tinsley." His voice was steady even though I could see his hands trembling too. "A year ago, I got lost in a blizzard and knocked on the wrong door. You thought I was a stripper Melody sent to jingle your bells."
I laughed through the tears already spilling down my cheeks.
"You let me in anyway," he continued, his dark eyes never leaving mine.
"You and that big heart of yours let a freezing stranger and a half-dead puppy into your cabin, into your Christmas, into your life.
And somehow, in two days that shouldn't have been enough time, you became everything I didn't know I'd been waiting for. "
A sob tried to escape. I pressed my hand to my mouth.
"This year's been the best of my life. That first weekend you visited in February—watching you help me feed cattle in the snow, laughing when you slipped, how you fit right in like you'd always been here.
Every weekend after that, waiting for your car to pull up the drive.
The day you told me you'd accepted the job in Livingston and were moving here for good—" His voice cracked.
"I knew then I wanted forever. Every morning with you stealing the covers.
Every evening with you in this kitchen, making it smell like home. Every moment in between."
"TJ," I whispered.
"You're my best friend. My partner. My Christmas miracle." He took my shaking hands in his steady ones. "I want to spend every Christmas for the rest of my life with you. Every morning, every season, every single day. Will you marry me?"
For a heartbeat, I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Could only stare at this man who'd crashed into my life during a storm and somehow become my entire world.
"Yes." The word burst out, too big to contain. "Yes, god, yes, a thousand times yes!"
His hands shook as he pulled the ring from the box. He slid it onto my finger—warm metal, fitting perfectly, solid weight that made everything real—and then he stood, pulling me up with him, kissing me hard enough that I forgot how to breathe.
His hands cupped my face. My fingers tangled in his hair. Everything I felt—love and gratitude and joy—went into that kiss.
Twinkle barked, jumping around our legs with her whole body shimmying. She crashed into us hard enough to make us break apart, laughing.
"She approves," I said, wiping my eyes with one hand while the ring sparkled on the other.
"Good. I asked her first." TJ was grinning, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.
"You did not."
"I did. Last week. Told her she needed to help me pull this off, be on her best behavior tonight." He scratched behind Twinkle's ears. "She negotiated for extra treats. Tough customer, this one."
I stared at the ring on my hand, hardly believing this was my life. The diamond caught the firelight, throwing sparkles across my skin. The band was warm now, the weight already familiar.
"When did you—how did you—"