Epilogue
Christmas morning, one year later…
The barn didn’t look like the barn anymore.
Sure, the bones were the same—the wide beams he’d nearly broken his back sanding down, the loft where hay used to pile high, the doors that had groaned every time someone shoved them open.
But tonight, it glowed. Fairy lights zigzagged across the rafters like stars caught indoors.
Mason jars stuffed with poinsettias and white roses lined the aisle, their scent mingling with cedar from the polished floorboards.
Fresh paint gleamed where age-old grime used to cling, and the air hummed with fiddle strings and quiet laughter.
Jake stood at the front, just beneath an arch wound with ivy and red roses, his hands clasped behind his back.
He had raced in Monaco, in Silverstone, in front of a hundred thousand screaming fans.
He had stared down hairpin turns at two hundred miles an hour with his heart hammering against his ribs.
He’d even won the World Championship. But nothing—nothing—had made his chest this tight.
The crowd rose as the music swelled. For a moment, time tilted. His pulse thudded in his ears, and his eyes fixed on the figure walking slowly down the aisle. Every part of him leaned forward, waiting, bracing, wanting.
The minister’s voice carried over the hush. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a love story that has stood the test of time…”
And just like that, reality clicked into place. It wasn’t Georgia walking toward him. It was his grandmother.
Joy Evans, radiant in a soft blue dress, her silver hair pinned back with delicate combs, moved with slow, certain grace.
Nic stood at the other end, shoulders square, grinning like a boy seeing his sweetheart for the first time.
The lines on his face deepened as his eyes shone, and when Joy reached him, his hands shook as he took hers.
“…as Nicholas and Joy renew the vows they first made to one another sixty years ago.”
The crowd burst into applause and laughter. Jake shook his head with a grin as he slipped back into his seat beside Georgia. She leaned in, her shoulder brushing his, her voice low and reverent.
“They still look like kids in love,” she whispered.
Jake’s gaze stayed on his grandparents, on the way his granddad bent his head just slightly toward his grandma like she was still the only woman in the room. His chest tightened, a swell of pride, longing, and fierce certainty rising inside him.
“That’s what I want,” he murmured. “Sixty years, and I’ll still be looking at you the same way.”
Georgia’s breath caught, her lips parting just slightly. Her smile faltered under the weight of his words, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “Jake…”
He turned toward her, not giving her room to retreat. He laced their fingers together, his thumb sweeping slow across her knuckles.
“We don’t need to rush it. Don’t need to have every answer right now. But you and me? We’re not temporary. I’m not letting go. Not today, not tomorrow—not ever.”
At the altar, Joy slipped a simple gold band onto her husband’s hand, both grinning through their tears. The minister’s voice wavered with emotion as he pronounced them bound again in love, and when Nic pulled Joy in for a kiss, the barn shook with applause, cheers, and laughter.
Jake tightened his hold on Georgia’s hand, pulling her closer so his words were meant only for her. “One day, darlin’, it’ll be us up there. But today’s theirs. And we’d be fools not to pay attention to how it’s done.”
Georgia leaned into him, her bouquet shifting against her lap, her head resting briefly against his shoulder. “It’s rare, Jake. That kind of love.”
“Then we’ll fight to be rare,” he said simply, his voice steady, unshakable.
She let out a laugh that was half sob, wiping at her eyes. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not.” He brushed his thumb over her hand again, grounding both of them. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
When the guests rose to their feet in celebration, Jake stayed seated for a beat longer, just holding on to her.
Watching his grandparents seal six decades of love with a kiss made him believe in something he hadn’t dared trust before—that forever wasn’t just a story people told themselves.
It was real. It was standing right there at the altar, wrinkled and silver-haired and grinning like fools.
And if they could do it? So could he and Georgia.
As the barn filled with clapping, cheers, and music striking up again, Jake bent low, pressing his lips against Georgia’s temple. “C’mon,” he whispered. “Let’s go dance before my granddad shows me up.”
She laughed, soft and bright, slipping her hand into his. And as he pulled her to her feet, Jake knew deep down in his bones—sixty years from now, he’d still be looking at her the same way his granddad looked at his grandma. Like nothing else in the world mattered more.
As the music swelled and Georgia laughed against his chest, Jake tightened his hold on her, breathing her in, grounding himself in the moment. His grandparents were swaying at the center of the barn, surrounded by cheers and clapping, proof that forever was possible.
Jake lowered his lips to Georgia’s ear, his voice rough with truth and wonder. “I finally got my Christmas wish,” he whispered, “from the best wish giver in the world.”
Always a Bridesmaid