Epilogue
HARRIET
One year later…
The house is quiet when I walk through the front door.
The Lanes are never quiet. Either everyone has magically disappeared or they're hiding something, and with this family, it's a coin flip.
Heath's still out at the car wrestling with our suitcases—his team's victory yesterday means he's got approximately seventeen different team gear bags to haul in—so I'm flying solo on reconnaissance.
The kitchen's empty. No coffee brewing, no one arguing about whether the bacon's too crispy, no Gram holding court from her throne at the head of the table.
"Mom? Dad? Gram?"
Nothing.
"Gran Juliet?"
Still nothing, which is especially weird because Gran Juliet's hearing aid makes her speak at roughly the volume of a small aircraft.
I've seen too many horror movies to go poking through empty bedrooms one by one like the girl who dies first. Better to find Heath—he'll know what to do. He always knows what to do, which is one of the many reasons I'm completely gone for him.
I head back toward the driveway to drag him away from the luggages, but when I round the corner of the house, there they all are.
The entire family. Down by the fire pit. And Heath isn't by the car anymore—he's standing in the middle of them.
Gram is behind him, looking smug with her glass of sweet tea.
Gram's had a full year to scheme since she successfully trapped me and Heath in the attic, and she's been suspiciously well-behaved lately. Which means she's been suspiciously up to something.
This is that something.
I'm just three steps away when Heath drops to one knee.
Oh.
Oh God. Is this what I think it is?
"I've always loved you, Harriet. Only ever you. Now will you please put me out of this stress and anxiety, which I've been suffering from for over a month, and give me the honor of becoming my wife?"
The ring box is small and velvet and shaking slightly in his huge hands, and for a man who catches footballs in front of thousands of screaming fans, he looks absolutely terrified.
"Yes." My voice comes out watery and sure at the same time. "God, yes. Though I have to say, a month of suffering seems pretty light for you."
He slides the ring onto my finger and stands up to kiss me, and the whole family erupts into cheers and wolf whistles that probably wake up the neighbors three houses over.
"This is going on my feed immediately," Jake says, already snapping photos.
"Mine too," James adds, circling us like we're exotic wildlife. "This is going to get so many likes."
Before I can even open my mouth to threaten them with bodily harm, their mom beats me to it.
"You post that and I'll throw every one of your games in the trash."
The twins lower their phones so fast you'd think they were on fire.
Gram clears her throat, and we all turn toward her because when Gram clears her throat, you listen.
"Well," she says, examining her nails with the smugness of someone who's just won a very long game, "the wedding better happen soon. This might be my last birthday."
The entire family groans.
The End
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