Extended Epilogue
ANNALISE
ONE YEAR LATER
Brody keeps a steady arm around me as we finish posing together on the red carpet and head away from the first cluster of photographers.
The bright white flashes are intense, staggering at first sight.
It took me a few minutes to relax after we first stepped out of the limo, but I’m a bit more settled now.
It feels odd to be wearing such a fancy dress and heels tonight instead of muddy coveralls and boots to match. But this is our first award show together as a couple and Brody’s first since his album released, so ranch clothes most definitely wouldn’t have sufficed.
There was no way Brody wasn’t wearing his hat tonight, though, and I’m glad for that.
My man looks incredible beneath the rim of a cowboy hat.
Maybe too incredible, based on the thousands of ogling eyes that haven’t let him out of their sight since we got here.
As if sensing my jealousy when I narrow my eyes on a woman wiggling her fingers in his direction, he swirls his thumb over my hip, and I glance up to find him smirking.
“You’re sexy when you’re territorial,” he says, the words far too husky for me right now.
I cover the hand he has holding my side with mine and thread our fingers. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your side-eyed glares at the security guard while we were being photographed.”
“Wasn’t tryin’ to hide them from you, sweetheart. You’re the most stunnin’ woman here tonight, and I don’t have a problem markin’ you as mine.”
“You do look incredible, by the way. I know I’ve told you that a million times already tonight, but you do.”
I jumped his bones the moment he stepped out of the bedroom dressed in dress slacks and a button-up I’ve never seen him wear before. It’s criminal for a man to have such a nice ass, and one look at it in those tight-fitted pants had me panting.
His beard is trimmed, and his hair is gelled back beneath the brown hat.
I’ve cut my hair a bit, too, over the past few months and dyed it a soft brown with some highlights.
It’s not much of a change, but it’s something to me.
I feel refreshed, and every day, I wake up feeling like it’ll be even better than the day before.
“You look phenomenal, Anna. I’ve been plannin’ all the ways I can take this dress off since the moment you put it on,” Brody murmurs.
I pinch the silky material below my bust, rolling it between my fingers. “Oh, this old thing?”
“Yeah, that old thing. It’s gorgeous on you.”
My cheeks flame as I chew on the inside of my cheek, focusing on the next set of photographers up ahead and the woman with a microphone in her hand.
“Thank you. How are you feeling?”
I’ve been checking on him often today, knowing he’s nervous about his first-ever nomination for album of the year. It’s been a whirlwind of a year with the success of his album and North American tour.
We spent long, late nights on the phone while he was touring, and I came with him as often as I could while running Thistle and Thorn. The business is flourishing, even after I struggled so badly at first. It was a learning curve, a steep one, but I eventually figured it out.
Construction on our new home finished recently, and we’ve been moved in for only a couple of weeks.
It took far longer than expected to build our dream house, but it was so, so worth it.
Getting to wake up every day to a view of the mountains through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom I share with the love of my life . . . there’s nothing greater than that.
“Terrified,” he answers bluntly.
I curl myself as close as I can around his side and squeeze his fingers. “You’ve got this, Bo. Win or lose, you’ve got this. How many artists can say they not only got nominated for an award after only their second album while also performing? I’m in awe of you. Every day.”
His throat bobs with a swallow. “Luckiest man in the world to have you beside me, Annalise. Thank you.”
“I’m here for you always. Through everything.”
Whether subconsciously or otherwise, he rubs the bare skin on my fourth finger, where I once wore another man’s ring. A harsh swell of emotion ripples through me. Longing, I’ve realized recently. Longing to wear Brody’s ring on my finger.
He hasn’t once pressured me into marriage, even though I know he would take me as his wife any day, anywhere.
A man as respectful as him would never pressure me into that.
And at one time, I was positive that I never wanted to get married.
Was sure of it, especially after Stewart.
But over the past year and a half, that’s been changing.
Those feelings have evolved so drastically that I haven’t even told him about it.
I should have known I would want to marry Brody someday. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Perfect in an imperfect way. Every day I spend with him only emphasizes how foolish I was.
That conversation has to come soon. I need it to.
The second round of photographs moves faster than the first, and then we’re being ushered toward the interviewer waiting to the side.
Massive cameras focus on us as Brody tugs me along with him, not caring that the woman most likely only wanted to speak to him.
We’ve both gotten more comfortable in the spotlight because of situations like these, our inability to separate from one another longer than necessary.
We greet the woman together, and she quickly moves into the questions for Brody. She focuses on his feelings regarding his nomination and who he’s most excited to see tonight before sliding into a line of questioning that we’ve grown to expect when we’re together in these situations.
“You’ve been together for over a year, correct?” she asks, voice incredibly chipper.
Brody looks to me to answer, and I don’t hesitate to do so. “Almost a year and a half, yes.”
“I think I speak for almost all of us when I say that you two look gorgeous together here tonight. As you always do,” she says.
Brody kisses the side of my head. “Thank you, Jess.”
“You look incredible too,” I add, and it’s the truth. The woman in front of us is glowing, whether with genuine excitement for what she does or if she’s just happy to meet celebrities, who knows. It doesn’t matter to me either way.
She grins at my compliment, and I relax further in her presence. “I hope you forgive me if I’m overstepping here, but we took a few fan questions earlier for you, Brody, and there’s one that overshadowed the rest. Would you mind answering?”
He hides his panic behind an easy-going smile, but I know him too well to fall for it the way she does. I shift toward him, sliding my hand across his middle before tucking my fingers in his belt loop.
“Ask away,” he tells her.
“Well, the fans want to know when you’re going to pop the question. Do you have an answer for them? Will it be soon?”
I almost laugh at the timing of the question. It’s like the universe was listening to my pleas just minutes prior.
Brody doesn’t have a chance to reach for the same prepared answer to the question before I’m tilting my head back to meet his eyes and saying, “Hopefully soon. I can’t wait until I get to be Brody’s wife.”
Jess squeals into her microphone, but once my man takes my face in his hands and lays a deep, possessive kiss on my lips, I forget all about her presence.
I think it’s safe to say that he’s just as excited to be my husband as I am to be his wife.
We’ve only just made it back into the limo when Brody’s cell phone starts blaring in his pocket. All of the important people in his life know that tonight is a big one for him and that he probably won’t be around to answer calls, so I’m instantly on alert.
Sharing my worry, Brody takes a look at the caller and picks it up, growing tense.
“Reggie?”
The buzz of watching him win his first-ever award threatens to dissipate, but I refuse to allow it to. It doesn’t matter what’s happening on the other side of the call. Not after a night like tonight.
“Fuck. Yeah, I can talk to my grandpa, but I can’t promise anythin’.
He doesn’t like strangers on his land . .
. You’re right, he’s worse than a stranger.
He’s made himself an enemy . . . Yeah. Yeah, I will.
The guest house is empty. He could stay there, but again, I can’t promise you anythin’ yet. I’ll do what I can.”
My stomach tumbles when Brody meets my stare and I see the discomfort sparking in his eyes.
“Yeah, thanks. We made an amazin’ album, Reg. This award is just as much yours as it is mine . . . I’ll call you tomorrow and do everythin’ I can for you here. Garrison doesn’t deserve this sorta support from you, but I get it. He’s family. I’ll do what I can . . . Yeah, good night.”
The second he ends the call, the question is tumbling from my lips. “What did Garrison do?”
Brody strokes a hand over his jaw and pulls me onto his lap, my legs falling over his, the material of my dress being pulled as taut as possible. I steady myself with my hands on his strong, muscled chest.
“Somethin’ bad enough that his father called and begged for him to stay at the ranch for a while.”
“That’s what you have to ask Wade about,” I note, nodding slightly as I recall his words to Reggie.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before karma caught up to him.”
“Wade won’t like it.”
Brody leans forward, resting his forehead on my collarbone. His heavy exhale says enough without the words that follow.
“No. No he’s not. None of us are. But I don’t think we have much of a choice. Garrison Beckett isn’t fit for Cherry Peak, but it might be the only place that can straighten him out.”
THE END.