Extended Epilogue
PARIS
T he twins, Perry and Peter, are almost up to my chin now, which feels unfair considering they’re only five. But I guess that’s what I get for marrying a giant.
One of them already asked me if I could still pick them up, and I had to pretend my back didn’t scream at the mere suggestion. Well, my back and my knees.
It’s that time of the year again, and we’re all looking forward to it. Yes, including my husband.
The line for the new animal viewing barn is wrapped halfway around the old silo.
Parker was hesitant about opening that section to the public—“People are nosy and they might overwhelm the goats,” he said—but the kids are loving it.
There’s something about seeing a chicken up close that really excites a third grader and his mom.
Despite Parker’s fears, the kids are pretty mindful about not touching the animals.
I stand at the side, smiling and feeling my spirits rise, when I see them.
Here they come.
The aunties.
Or, as Parker likes to call, my girl gang.
We are all close enough that I’m on a first-name basis (kind of) with all of them, and they added me to their group chat where, true to their promise, all we ever do is trade recipes and gossip.
I know more than I care to admit about every single person in this town.
I can’t for the life of me not call them Aunts, though, especially since they’re at least three times my age.
All four of them wear wide-brimmed hats flapping in the wind and floral dresses billowing. So this is why they asked what I was wearing earlier. They wanted to match my dress and hat.
Oh God.
The picture is so adorably funny that I laugh as they approach. They’re all carrying baskets of varying sizes, and since five years ago, they’ve made it their mission to feed me, as though I’m a child and not a full-grown adult with a husband and two kids.
Aunt May (Mrs. Bryant) is first, beelining toward me with something wrapped in wax paper. “Sweetheart, you’ve lost weight since I last saw you,” she says, handing it over before I can even open my mouth. “You must eat.”
“Aunt May, you saw me yesterday at the butcher shop.”
Aunt Ruth (Mrs. Allen) hands me a container of something suspiciously gelatinous. “That’s from my great-grandmother’s recipe. So much better than the cheesecake I saw you buying at the dessert shop.”
Aunt Dottie (Mrs. Richards) slips a flask into my apron pocket. “For the nerves,” she whispers with a wink. “Festival crowds are lawless. I’ve been doing this for well over a decade, and I still get anxious.”
And Aunt Jean (Mrs. James) just pats my cheek and hands me a still-warm apple pie. “The boys’ favorite, and by boys, I mean including your husband.”
When I glance up, there he is—my husband, the love of my life—walking through the crowd. The late sun turns his dark hair to warm gold, and there’s a smudge of hay on his shirt that makes my heart squeeze. His eyes are locked on mine like we’re the only two people around.
And just like that, I forget the baskets in my arms, the aunties, the line around the barn. He always has this effect on me, and I’ll never get tired of it.
He stops a few feet away, eyes scanning me from head to toe like he’s memorizing me all over again. Then he smiles. “How are you so beautiful so early in the morning?”
The aunties all gasp like they’re watching a scene from one of their TV shows.
Aunt May fans herself with her hand. “Lord, he’s still in the honeymoon phase.”
Aunt Ruth cackles. “Five years, and the man still looks at her like she’s dessert.”
But when Parker closes the distance and kisses me—slow, soft, and so full of love it nearly knocks the breath out of me—they all go quiet.
Then one by one, they scatter, muttering about propriety and “young people these days” and “how about you go get a room, there are kids around,” but I catch the smiles they try to hide.
Parker’s arms wrap around me, and I melt into the curve of his chest.
Behind us, Perry and Peter are laughing and running with Doris and Otis. The barn is buzzing. The air smells like autumn and buttered corn and meat pies.
And for the first time in my life, I truly understand what it means to be home.
The End
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