Epilogue
TWO YEARS LATER
Ellie
If you’d told me two years ago I’d be standing in a lace wedding dress with flowers in my now natural brown hair and Logan Walker’s ring on my finger, I would’ve laughed. Or cried. Or run.
Probably all three.
But now? Now, I was exactly where I was always meant to be—dancing barefoot under the Texas stars, the hum of music twirling around me, my heart anchored by the man who never gave up on me.
Logan’s hand found the small of my back, steady and sure, and he spun me in a circle that made my skirt flutter and my soul soar.
The twinkle lights above us sparkled like fireflies.
His smile? That crooked, boyish one that always knocked the breath from my lungs, it was aimed right at me.
And it said one thing loud and clear. You’re mine.
Laughter rippled across the dance floor, and when I looked around, my chest tightened in the best kind of way. Everyone we loved was here. The people who’d seen the messiest, most painful parts of me, and stayed anyway.
Penny stood just off to the side, barefoot like me, her done-up curls wild from the wind and motherhood.
One of her babies was fast asleep in Mac’s arms, the other was currently climbing Boone’s leg like a tree trunk with sticky frosting hands.
Penny caught my eye and grinned with a wink, which I returned.
From my spot on the dance floor, I had the advantage of taking in each of our friends as they all were here, proud to celebrate Logan and me.
Mac looked like he was made to be a dad—strong, patient, always prepared with a snack or a soft place to land.
He and Penny were it. Solid and steady. They’d been through so much, and still, they were gentle with each other.
Watching them made me believe in the kind of love that doesn’t have to shout to be real.
Aspen stood behind Boone, wrapped up in each other but carrying something heavier beneath their smiles.
She’d confessed it to me quietly, just last week at the shop, how the tests kept coming back negative, how the dream of becoming a mom felt like it kept slipping through her fingers.
They were thinking about adoption now. And even though her voice cracked when she said it, there was hope behind her eyes.
Aspen, the optimist, always held onto the hope that something would change. With every reveal of pregnancy from our friends, she was just as excited as before, despite her own struggles behind closed doors.
Aspen would be an incredible mom. Boone already treated every kid in the group like they were his. It wasn’t fair, the waiting. The not-knowing. But if anyone could weather that storm, it was the two of them.
Despite it all, they were happy. They lived in their own place with a few dogs. They were more in love now than ever, leaning on each other in their darkest moments. That was my brother, the rock who was there for everyone. And he’d found his in Aspen.
Their love started it all, and if it hadn’t been for them, who knows where all of us would be.
And then there was Theo. Glowing, belly full and hands constantly drifting down to cradle the baby that was growing.
Rhodes never strayed far, his hand on the small of her back, his gaze soft and awed every time he looked at her, like he couldn’t believe she was his.
She was going to be a mother, again, and I had no doubt that baby would be adored beyond measure.
Frankie was with her, dancing and jumping to the song the DJ played. At a little older than two years old, she was smart as a whip and gave those two a run for their money.
I took a breath, and the scent of fresh flowers and summer heat filled my lungs.
I’d made every bouquet, every display came from the shop in the week leading up to the big day.
If I were being honest, I was flowered out.
Except, Petal Pusher was mine now. Sandy had officially stepped away last fall, leaving me with the keys and her trust. I still felt her presence every time I unlocked the door.
Every time I arranged sunflowers for someone having a hard day.
Every time a bride came in with a dream and left with a bouquet that made her cry.
She and her late husband built something beautiful. And now I got to carry it forward.
Logan’s hand slipped into mine, his fingers lacing through like they were made to fit. His thumb brushed over my knuckles.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning close.
I looked at him, this man who loved me back to life, who never once asked me to be anything but exactly who I was, and nodded.
“I’m more than okay,” I whispered.
He smiled and pulled me back into his arms, and we swayed under the stars, surrounded by people who had become family. The music slowed. The sky darkened. But something deep in my chest stayed bright.
Faircloud had always been home. But tonight? It was more than that.
It was roots.
It was promises kept.
It was the future.
And I was ready for all of it—with him.
As we moved together under the soft rhythm of the music, Logan pressed a kiss to my temple, and I closed my eyes, letting myself simply feel the weight of his arms around me, the scent of cedar and soap on his shirt, the solid beat of his heart beneath my cheek.
Before him, I didn’t have the perfect relationship with love.
With the real kind, the one that cracked you open and asked you to stay anyway. The kind that held your hand on your worst days and didn’t flinch when you showed it the most broken pieces of who you were.
That kind of love was rare.
But Logan… he loved me like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done, even when I made it hard. Especially then. He never needed me to be perfect. Just present. Just his.
I used to think I was too much. Too guarded, too messy to ever be someone’s “always.” But Logan made me feel like I was just right, like everything about me was something he wanted more of. He saw past the defenses and the doubt and leaned in closer.
He taught me that love doesn’t rush. It waits. It listens. It fights quietly, day after day, in the small moments that matter most.
Like how he always has my favorite candy on hand.
How he looks at me like I’m still the only girl in the room, even now, after all the dust has settled and the excitement has softened into something quieter. Something truer.
Marriage wasn’t just a ring or a wedding.
It was this—dancing in the middle of a barn, barefoot and a little wine-drunk, surrounded by people who’ve seen every version of us.
It was Logan leaning down to whisper, “Let’s sneak away soon,” with that grin that still made my knees a little weak.
It was knowing that after everyone left, and the music stopped, and the cake was crumbs on a plate, we’d still be here.
Still us.
Still choosing each other.
Every damn day.
I smiled up at him, and he looked back at me like I hung the moon.
“I love you,” I whispered.
He grinned. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
“I’ve always been stuck with you, Logan Walker.”
His mouth met mine in the gentlest, most grounding kiss, and in that moment, with the stars above and chatter from everyone we loved, I knew nothing could beat this feeling.
The big love.
The real love.
The kind you plant roots with.
The kind that lasts.
And we had it.
Forever.