Page 57 of Falling Again For My Best Friend's Brother

"Nah, I'm more excited than anything. Although I am a little worried about the shop expansion. You think we can juggle it all?"

I pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. "Well, considering we survived my accidental ghost pepper pasta incident—which, may I remind you, had you sweating more than during your firefighter training—I'd say we can handle just about anything."

"I maintain it was an innovative way to clear my sinuses," he said, his grin widening. "And it did lead to that impromptu ice cream date."

A sharp bark shattered our playful banter. We spun around to find Hero standing proudly by Kevin's birdfeeder, tail wagging furiously as a tiny sparrow pecked at the seeds.

"Well, would you look at that," Trevor mused. "Your brother's gift is already a hit with the local wildlife. And Hero hasn't tried to eat it yet. I'd call that a win-win."

I laughed, leaning into Trevor's embrace. "You know, I think you're right. Maybe it's a sign that everything will work out just fine."

"Of course it will," Trevor said, kissing my forehead. "We've got flowers, we've got each other, and we've got a dog with questionable taste in chew toys. What more could we possibly need?"

I felt a surge of certainty as we stood there, surrounded by the beauty we'd cultivated together. Whatever challenges lay ahead—be it wedding planning, business expansion, or Hero's ongoing vendetta against the garden hose—we'd face them together.

And really, that's all that mattered.

Epilogue

Trevor

Istood in the greenhouse, surrounded by a sea of flowers that would overwhelm even the most dedicated bee. Amelia's rare orchid boutonnière clung to my lapel, a delicate reminder of her touch. Cherry blossom petals drifted through the air, settling in my hair. Perfect. I'd look like I'd lost a fight with a floral confetti cannon.

"Stand still, Phillips. You're fidgeting like a rookie on his first call." Donovan's grin was both teasing and supportive.

I shot him a look. "Rich, coming from the guy who can barely tie his shoes without help."

The greenhouse was packed to the brim, reminding me of how tight quarters get during a tricky rescue. My fellow firefighters stood out in their dress uniforms, looking as uncomfortable as I felt in this suit. Mayor Fletcher's bowtie was bright enough to guide us home in a blackout. And there was Grace Harper, sporting a whimsical wedding hat resembling a blooming garden.

Kevin approached, his usual scowl replaced by what might pass for a smile if you squinted. "Well, well. If it isn't Rivermint Cove's very own Firefighter Florist."

I smirked. "Careful, Sheriff. Your face might crack if you keep almost smiling like that."

He chuckled, then lowered his voice. "Listen, about that 'welcome to the family' thing at the engagement party... I meant it. But if you tell anyone I got sappy, I'll deny it faster than you can say 'rematch.'"

"Speaking of rematches," I couldn't resist needling him, "when's the police department going to try to redeem themselves on the baseball diamond? Or are you guys still nursing your wounded pride?"

Kevin's eyes narrowed, but there was no real heat behind it. "Just you wait, hotshot. We've been practicing. Next game, we'll—"

"What, learn how to hold a bat?" I smirked. "Face it, Kev, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if you were standing inside it."

Mayor Fletcher's booming voice interrupted us. "Trevor, my boy! Ready for the big plunge?"

I just shook my head as I took my place at the altar, watching my groomsmen line up. In a few minutes, Amelia would walk down that aisle, and I'd become the luckiest ex-bad boy in town.

Bring it on, married life. I'd tackled fires that could roast marshmallows from a mile away. How hard could this be?

Emily and Susan, glowing in their coordinating dresses, took their places opposite us. Susan mouthed, "I love you," while Emily gave me a thumbs up. Their support hit me right in the chest, in a good way.

The music changed, and the greenhouse fell silent. My heart kicked into overdrive as I turned to watch the grand entrance.

Addy and Michael appeared, gripping the wagon handle with determined little faces. Addy, all but nine years old, taking her flower girl duties more seriously than I take my job, led the way. Michael followed, concentrating hard on not tripping over his own feet.

And there in the wagon, looking like he'd won the lottery, sat Trent. The kid was having the time of his life, tossing petals with abandon. Each handful sent up a cheer from the guests, and I couldn't help but grin. These kids, man. They were something else.

As the children reached the altar, Trent clapped his hands, sending a flurry of petals into the air. Addy reached into the wagon and helped her brother out, setting him on unsteady feet. She took Trent's hand, guiding him to where Grammy waited with open arms. And Michael ran to my mom.

I glanced at Susan, catching her wiping away a tear. She smiled at me, her face filled with joy and pride.

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