Page 118 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"That's what family does, honey."
As we walk toward the door, pompoms bouncing ridiculously with each step, I catch Beau's hand and squeeze it tight.
"Ready for our next adventure?" I ask.
He looks down at me, this strong, complicated, beautiful man who saved me by letting me save myself, and his smile is soft and real and full of promises I can't wait to see him keep.
"With you?" he says simply. "I'm ready for anything."
And as we step out into the wonderful mountain air, toward the truck that will carry us home to the cabin we share, to the life we're building together one perfect day at a time, I realize I'm ready too.
Ready for work partnerships and town gossip and whatever romantic chaos Jamie Striker is about to unleash on poor Dr. Shields.
Ready for spring weddings and summer adventures and winter nights by the fire.
Ready for forever with the man who taught me that love isn't supposed to make you smaller, but bigger. Braver. More beautifully, completely yourself.
Ready for whatever comes next in this crazy, wonderful, perfectly imperfect life I've found in Stone River Mountain.
But first, I'm definitely going to make him model those tactical pants for me.
Some things are just too important to wait for.
Epilogue
Molly
Six Months Later
I'm standing at the edge of Wildflower Meadow in a stunning wedding dress… and I've never felt more beautiful in my entire life.
"Oh honey," Sienna breathes beside me, adjusting the train of my dress for the hundredth time. "You look absolutely stunning."
The meadow around us has been transformed into something that would make Disney's set designers weep with envy. White silk drapes billow and dance between towering pines. Thousands of string lights, hung with painstaking precision by Beau and his groomsmen yesterday while I was banned from peeking, twinkle overhead like stars that decided heaven wasn't as pretty as our mountain top wedding venue.
The aisle I'll soon walk down is lined with arrangements of wildflowers in every shade of violet, peach, and cream, artfullydesigned to look as though they sprouted from the earth this morning purely to celebrate our love.
The familiar smell of fresh pine mingles with the sweet perfume of lilacs and roses, creating an intoxicating fragrance that's better than any overpriced department store perfume.
I catch my reflection in the antique mirror Linda from the general store insisted on bringing 'just in case'.
I'm glad she did.
My dress is a masterpiece.
Glorious layers of ivory silk that flows like water, with delicate lace sleeves that make my shoulders look elegant. The bodice fits like Etta and Mabel painted it on when they took my measurements, and the entire dress drops and pools around me in waves of pure romance.
But it's not just the dress.
It's the way I feel wearing it.
Back with Riley, the small amount of wedding planning we did before I left him felt like performing in someone else's play. Everything was about being perfect for the photos, impressive for his colleagues, a reflection of his success rather than a celebration of our love.
Today is nothing like that.
This?
This feels like a fairytale.
