Epilogue
JADE
About one year later…
I head up the driveway to the cabin perched on top of the steepest hill in Wildwood, Oregon, still amazed that this is my life. Marty stands on the front porch, two seconds shy of losing his mind. The second I push open the driver’s side door, he’ll be running circles around my legs.
Natasha waves from the patio beside the guest cabin. The temporary stay she and Josh planned got extended once, then twice. By the third time, River hooked up a trailer to his truck and headed back to Indiana to officially move my bestie and her hubby to Wildwood, too.
Even Grandma Charlotte moved to town, though she much prefers a condo that overlooks the cutest little downtown in existence.
This weekend, we’ll go antique shopping at thrift stores and estate sales together.
Turns out, I have a knack for it. It’s been a fun side gig.
But despite her insistence that I do it full time, I just can’t give up teaching.
Though I miss my students back in Indiana, I found equally great ones right here in Wildwood.
Funny enough, less than a month after I decided to stay in Oregon, Skeezy Seymour was arrested on multiple charges involving not only teachers, but students.
His now ex-wife refused to bail him out, so he’s been sitting behind bars awaiting trial.
They also offered me my old job back, but it was too late.
I could never leave my life here.
I love it too much.
I especially love the man standing on the front porch wearing an apron and a smile. I’m looking forward to whatever dinner concoction he’s cooking up almost as much as I’m looking forward to dessert later.
Last night, we agreed it was time to start a family.
This morning, I tossed my birth control pills in the trash. Dramatic? Sure. But River showed his appreciation for the gesture by getting on his knees and sending me into orbit with his magic mouth before school started.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he says, pulling me into his arms and kissing me as though I’d been gone a month and not just mere hours.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I ask when he finally allows me to come up for air.
“Not since you were crying out my name this morning.” There’s a knowing grin on his face that makes me wish we could skip dinner and go right for dessert.
“Dinner has thirty minutes left in the oven,” he says, as though reading my mind.
I thread my fingers through his, following him inside to get my dessert early.
I love my life.