Epilogue
Jordy
Reader, I married him.
I know. This is so not like me. But when you know, you know.
It was just a small ceremony—Bob, Bec, and Lottie of course, my parents, Nina, Brayden, and Junie, Griffin and Bernie…
And the whole damn town.
I guess when anything happens around here, you can’t leave anyone out. Everything in this town is everyone else’s business.
And I love it.
Married life is nothing like I imagined.
I always thought marriage was something that would hold me back, but that was back when I was preparing to marry the wrong person.
Things with Ashton are easy and intense.
We go hard, from the way we communicate about everything, to how we work together on the farm and at the shop, to how we fall into bed every night, worshipping each other’s bodies until sleep wins.
Sure, we have our moments; both of us are strong-willed individuals who are dead set on getting our ways.
But god, the make-up sex makes it all worth it.
Sometimes I think we fight just so we can fuck the aggression out of each other.
Basically, we make a perfect team.
I spend most of my days with Bec at the People’s Place.
I invested just like I promised, but not as much as I’d originally planned.
The town pulled together to help the Felixes get back on their feet, and the bank allowed them a low interest loan to make up a portion of it.
I tried to talk them out of the loan, but they wouldn’t have it.
“She was our daughter,” Bob explained. “It’s our debt to repay.”
He and Bec finally went public with the reason they needed to sell, knowing they couldn’t protect Sasha’s reputation any longer. In any other town, it would have been nobody’s business, but in Lahoma, we’re family—and family helps each other out.
The town helped Bernie too. Through a few generous investments, Bernie was able to pay off her outstanding debts, and even had enough left over to spruce up the place.
As her designer, I’m proud to say that Bernie not only let me chuck the outdated orange and purple furniture, but redesign the place with a sleek modern look—lots of black and gray with some silver and a few colorful accent pieces. Nina would have hated it. But I love it.
More importantly, Bernie loved it. So did many of the surrounding businesses.
I became the official designer of Lahoma Springs.
Anytime there’s a need for a redesign, I’m called upon to work my magic.
I once thought my dream was to have my name in lights in New York City, to be known by every business in that big city as the one person to make their vision come true.
But I learned that being known in this small town is much closer to the core of my heart.
Lahoma Springs is my home, and every fiber of my being loves this town.
To be the trusted name among the businesses here is a dream come true, and one I can live with all my life.
The People’s Place has become the true hub of the city, just like I envisioned it to be.
I love that we’re a collective for small business owners, just like Sasha had dreamed up back when she ran the store.
I have a soft space in my heart for that girl, even though I don’t know her, and even though I can’t understand why she’d steal from her parents or leave her daughter.
She had a vision that included everyone in this town, and I’m happy to continue the dream.
More than that, she helped create brilliant, beautiful, incredible Lottie—the true keeper of my heart.
I love Ashton, but I’m crazy in love with his daughter.
I want to do everything with her, and I do when I can help it.
She comes to work with me in the summers, and I cried when I had to finally let her go to preschool.
I took over her bath times, and Ashton and I share the bedtime routine.
I may not be her mommy, but I’m Jor-Ma, as she likes to call me. It came from one time when Ashton said it as a joke, and it kind of stuck.
“Jor-Ma, can we make cookies again?”
It’s been almost two years since I made Lahoma Springs my home.
Lottie’s four, and it’s like a light bulb went off in her.
I noticed it first as she neared her third birthday—the way her words became clearer and how she started to have a preference for how I did her hair.
She likes my tight braids the best, which is ironic since I only learned how to braid two years ago.
Now at four, she’s like my little friend.
I think she likes having another girl in the house.
I find her sometimes touching my clothes or trying on my shoes, sometimes even testing out my lipsticks.
I never stop her from any of it. I recall my own mom getting mad at me when I experimented with her makeup.
I’d longed to have someone teach me these things, but ended up learning on my own from fashion magazines and friends.
I’ll be here to teach Lottie when she’s ready. For now, I let curiosity be her guide.
“What kind of cookies do you want to make?” I ask, closing my laptop to give her my full attention.
We just returned from the pickup line at school.
Her backpack is strewn across the living room, right under four original paintings by my good friend, Grace, plus a super sloppy painting of a jellyfish that neither Ashton nor I can bear to part with.
It holds the threads of our beginnings, as silly as the image is.
Lottie tilts her head, pausing from the papers in front of her—pretend homework, we call it, since preschool doesn’t give real homework. But she likes to practice her letters all the time. This girl is so dang smart.
“Chocolate chip?” she asks, then grins when I nod.
“Of course, love. Want to get out the butter and eggs while I find the dry ingredients?”
Lottie scrambles off the couch and opens the fridge to start digging. I laugh, then rummage through the pantry to find the rest of the things we need. In one cabinet, I find a big box of forgotten Cheerios, pulling them out with a smile.
“Remember Zowies?” I ask her. She looks confused for a second, then laughs a little when she sees the cereal box.
“That’s Cheerios,” she corrects me. I smile, but feel a little sad as I put them away. My little girl is growing so fast.
I get the stand mixer out and let her drop in the butter. Ashton walks in as I turn on the mixer. I look up to find him covered in dirt, head to toe.
“The pigs,” he groans as an explanation. We just got a new herd a few weeks ago, and these guys are definitely unruly. Ashton comes in for a kiss, and I screech as I jump out of the way.
“Dad, kiss me too!” Lottie cries, but I bar his way.
“No way, Jose. She’s making cookies and your dirt is not included.”
He swats my butt, then sneaks in a kiss anyway. “I love you, Jor,” he murmurs, and shoots me a wicked look. I turn to complete mush. This will never, ever get old.
“I love you, stinky,” I say. But he doesn’t stink. Okay, maybe there’s a bit of Lahoma Aroma on him. But goddamn, he’s all man, and I can’t help inhaling the sweat off his skin.
“Later,” he whispers, then winks as a promise. “Save a cookie for me.” Then he scoots off to the shower.
Lottie and I finish mixing the ingredients, then spoon quarter cup cookies onto the baking sheet before sliding the pan into the pre-heated oven.
“Did I tell you what my friend Tobin said to me today?” she asks. I sit in the chair next to her, licking one of the batter paddles as I hand her the other.
“No, what did he say?”
“He said that girls come from Jupiter to get more stupider.” She pouts. “But we didn’t come from Jupiter, we came from Earth. So who’s the stupid person?”
I laugh. I have a feeling Tobin has a puppy love crush on Lottie, because he’s always teasing her. It reminds me of Ashton, who loves to tease me just so he can get a rise out of me.
Of course, I’m not about to tell Lottie this, because no little girl should think bad behavior is attractive, as I also tell Ashton whenever he’s wicked—well, most of the time, that is.
“Sounds like Tobin needs a few more years of preschool,” I say, laughing as she breaks into a grin. There’s a knock at the door then, and I look at Lottie. “Were you expecting anyone?” I tease.
“No!” she laughs, and she follows me to the door.
Truth is, it could be anyone. People show up here all the time, so a knock on the door isn’t anything new. But this time it is, because I don’t know the person on the other side.
“Can I help you?” I ask. She’s shorter than me, with deep red, unruly hair and a spray of freckles across her pale skin.
Dark tattoos line her arms, large tiger’s eye gauges in her ears, and a bull ring adorns her nose.
Her jeans have rips in the thighs, revealing even more tattoos.
For a moment, I wonder if she’s too rough to be around Lottie, though I also note the nervous expression on her face.
Even more, I note those familiar wide eyes looking back at me, the same ones on Lottie’s face now.
I notice the slightly older version of someone I’ve seen before in a picture at Bec and Bob’s house.
“Oh,” I say, taking a step back.
“Honey, who’s at the door?”
I turn in time to see Ashton round the corner in nothing but a towel, and then the shocked expression that takes over his face.
“Sasha.”