Page 145 of Fixing to Be Mine

We return to the barn as someone’s bringing out another tray of towering mini pies. Colt grabs one and hands it to me without a word, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I bite into it and immediately recognize the flavor. “Is this … maple pecan?”

He nods. “Mama’s recipe.”

“Wow,” I say. “Do you know how to make these?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. But she might teach you.”

“I’d love that.”

I glance around the barn, taking it all in one more time. The lanterns. The people. The flowers wrapped in twine. My name is written next to Colt’s on a little wooden sign that saysThe Future Valentines.

It’s a lot, but it doesn’t feel like too much. It never does with him. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

EPILOGUE

COLT

The room’s buzzing with warmth and excitement. Glasses clink. Laughter spills over slow country music London is playing. Someone’s passing around a bottle of whiskey.

Stormy’s across the room, framed by a halo of soft light and surrounded by my sisters—Kinsley, Remi, Fenix, Vera, Summer, and Grace. They’re talking over each other and laughing in a way only sisters and in-laws can. Their voices overlap like they’re layered harmonies. She’s relaxed, laughing easily, her hands flying with whatever story she’s telling. She fits perfectly into my life.

I let the sight settle in my chest for a second, then shift my gaze toward my father, who’s chatting with Beckett. He’s got a drink in his hand.

I weave through the crowd toward them.

He sees me coming and offers a nod. Beckett leaves us to ourselves.

“Congrats, son.”

I smile. “Thanks, Dad. How are you survivin’ all these people?”

He chuckles low in his chest. “Crown helps.”

I lean beside him, my eyes scanning over the crowd. From here, I can still see Stormy. My fiancée. My future.

“She’s perfect for you,” Dad says.

“Yeah, she is,” I tell him proudly.

He lifts his glass a little, like a toast only meant for the two of us. “She’s got fire and grace.”

I nod. “Hell yeah, she does.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The noise of the party fades slightly.

“You’ve done good,” he says finally. “Not just with her. With the house. With your own dreams. Maybe teach Emmett and Sterling a thing or two?”

My dad’s not one to hand out compliments like candy.

“Oh, they’re hopeless,” I say. “Hopefully, in a few years, they’ll grow up. But I dunno.”

Dad chuckles. “You’re damn right about that.”

There’s a beat of quiet between us, heavy but full of something good. He claps a hand on my shoulder, firm and warm.

“You ever need anything, let us know. Happy for ya both.”

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