12. Epilogue

Wade

(Six Months Later)

Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be here—planning a proposal in a quaint coastal town, with a ninety-pound Goldendoodle as my wingman. Five years ago, holed up in my meticulously manicured garden fortress, I would’ve laughed at the absurdity. Back then, my biggest concern was evading my sister’s relentless matchmaking schemes.

“Porky, buddy, that ring box isn’t your latest chew toy.” I adjusted his crooked bow tie behind the festival stage, and he gazed up at me with that trademark goofy retriever grin. The same one he’d flashed while demolishing my “ridiculous botanicals” that infamous night. “Though, I suppose I owe you one. If you hadn’t decided my garden needed a midnight makeover, I might never have made a complete fool of myself in front of the woman I love.”

“Talking to Emma’s fur baby again?” Sandy appeared beside me, balancing two steaming cups from her café. “Here. You look like you need this.”

I accepted the coffee with a sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Hon, you’re practically vibrating.” She gave me a once-over, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I have to say, seeing Wade James nervous is kind of refreshing. Remember when you thought Emma was just another gold digger trying to seduce the ‘billionaire playboy’?”

“God, don’t remind me.” I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my collar. “I’m still living down that ‘more money than manners’ comment.”

She smirked. “Well, you did deserve it. Accusing a woman in her pajamas of trying to proposition you at midnight?”

“In my defense, she was very distracting in those shorts.”

Sandy chuckled. “Good thing you had the good sense to make it right the next day.”

“Yeah. Had to swallow my pride and apologize.” Though we both knew that wasn’t the only reason. Something about Emma’s fiery spirit and blatant disregard for my status had lodged itself under my skin that night. “Didn’t expect to find myself competing in a small-town chili cook-off a few days later.”

“Or reading stories to preschoolers,” Sandy added with a knowing grin. “You weren’t exactly subtle in your pursuit, Wade.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She had me there. From the moment I walked into Beachy Keen Reads that morning, saw Emma tucked behind a stack of books, I wanted—no, needed—to be part of her world. Story times, trivia nights, all the small-town charm I’d once dismissed without a second thought.

The summer festival glittered around us, strings of lights casting a warm glow over Seashell Cove’s boardwalk, transforming it into something out of a dream. Emma’s bookstore display caught my eye—strategically positioned with a perfect view of my garden, of course. The very garden where I’d made a complete ass of myself, jumping to conclusions about a woman who, it turned out, had walked away from the same privileged world I had.

“Well, if it isn’t my rebel brother.” Amy’s polished voice carried over the festive noise as she approached, a genuine smile softening her usual composure. “I have to admit, this place has grown on me. Though Mother’s still recovering from the shock of you hiding out here, living a double life.”

“Glad you could make it, Ames.” I returned her smile, grateful for the familiar comfort of family.

“And miss seeing you finally settle down?” She arched a brow. “Mother’s already plotting how to spin this for the society pages—‘James Heir Weds Local Bookshop Owner in Whirlwind Romance.’” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Though I doubt she’ll include how you accused your future wife of being a gold digger while she was chasing her dog through your precious garden at midnight.”

I winced, glancing over at Emma as she charmed Mrs. Peabody at her stall. Her laughter floated on the breeze, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “At least there were no witnesses to that particular display of my... assery. Just me, Emma in those shorts, and Porky decimating my prize hydrangeas.”

Amy shook her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “And now look at you—local bookstore groupie, children’s storytime champion, and apparently the judges’ favorite at last month’s pie contest.” She straightened my collar with that familiar sisterly precision. “Though I still can’t believe you entered a baking competition. Chili, sure. Baking? Hell, no.”

“Emma bet me I wouldn’t. You know how that usually ends.”

“With you making a fool of yourself to prove a point? Yes, I’m well-versed in the pattern.” Her expression softened. “But it works for you two. She pushes, you jump, and somehow you both end up exactly where you need to be.”

My gaze drifted back to Emma, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the festival lights. That same infectious joy that had caught me off guard the morning after our ill-fated garden encounter.

“Speaking of your bride-to-be,” Sandy nudged me gently, nodding toward the boardwalk, “Silvy’s keeping her occupied at the book display, but you might want to hurry before Porky decides that bow tie is more appetizing than the ring.”

Right on cue, Sandy grabbed the microphone, her voice ringing clear over the murmuring crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather ‘round! Our very own reformed billionaire playboy has something to say!”

“Reformed?” I muttered under my breath.

“Own it, brother dear.” Amy smirked. “Can’t erase your history, only rewrite your future.”

I shot her a sideways glance. “Since when did you become so wise?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “I’ve always been the smarter sibling.”

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward to scattered applause and a few amused whistles. Emma looked up from her conversation with Silvy, surprise flickering across her features. Even now, just the sight of her took my breath away.

“So,” I began, my heart pounding in my chest, “some of you might remember when I first came to Seashell Cove. I was... Let’s say, a slightly different person.”

“You were a pain in the ass!” Mrs. Peabody called out helpfully from her porch.

Laughter rippled through the crowd. I chuckled, nodding in her direction. “Thank you, Mrs. P, for that accurate historical account.”

“But what none of you knew was that my life changed the night a certain retriever decided my carefully planned garden needed an emergency renovation.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled with recognition, a soft smile playing on her lips. We’d laughed about that night more times than I could count—her in those infuriatingly distracting pajama shorts, me in what she has since dubbed my “garden daddy” attire.

“I made some... incorrect assumptions that night. Fortunately for me, Emma Michaels isn’t the type to let accusations of gold-digging go unchallenged.”

Scattered cheers and claps echoed, Silvy giving Emma an affectionate nudge.

“She challenged me to stop hiding in my beach house and actually become part of this incredible community. To show up—to story times, bake sales, and yes, even a chili cook-off where I learned the hard way that ‘artisanal’ doesn’t always mean ‘better.’”

More laughter, a few knowing looks tossed my way.

“She showed me that sometimes the best things in life come with dog hair, sand between your toes, and absolutely zero pretense.”

I glanced over at Porky, giving him a subtle signal. He bounded forward with surprising agility, making a beeline for Emma. Well, almost. Unfortunately, he got distracted halfway by a stray hot dog wrapper.

“Porky, no!” Silvy hissed. “We practiced this!”

The crowd’s laughter grew as the dog performed an impressive mid-run pivot, abandoning the wrapper to complete his mission. He sat at Emma’s feet, tail wagging furiously, ring box miraculously intact.

“Porky, what––” She caught the box as he flopped over for a belly rub, professional dignity forgotten.

I approached, nerves jangling like wind chimes in a hurricane. Dropping to one knee, I took a steadying breath. “Emma, you changed everything that night. Not just my garden—though I still maintain those hydrangeas never quite recovered.”

She laughed softly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“You showed me that the life I was running from was actually the one I’d been searching for all along. You turned my escape into a home, my solitary garden into a place filled with laughter and life. You convinced me that reading ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ in multiple voices was infinitely better than any board meeting I’ve ever attended.”

Her eyes glistened as she opened the box, the ring catching the glow of the twinkling lights. “Wade James,” she whispered, a teasing lilt to her voice, “are you telling me I should thank Porky’s terrible timing and your even worse judgment for all of this?”

“Absolutely.” I grinned up at her. “And if you say yes, I promise to keep letting you challenge every dumb assumption I make for the rest of our lives.”

She shook her head, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “Well, when you put it that way...” She tugged me to my feet, the ring warming between our joined hands. “Yes. Though I reserve the right to remind you about that midnight accusation whenever necessary.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as I slipped the ring onto her finger. Porky barked enthusiastically, jumping up and circling us as I pulled her into a kiss, the world fading away until there was only us.

“That’s my brother!” Amy called out, not even bothering to hide the tears streaming down her face.

“About time!” Silvy added, dabbing at her own eyes. “Though I still can’t believe Mr. ‘Billionaire-Playboy-Recluse’ is the same guy who asked to start a chess night at my café.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of gold and pink, the celebration spilled onto the beach. Sandy miraculously produced champagne, and Amy was already discussing wedding plans that, much to my chagrin, involved a mash-up of our two worlds—albeit with less input from our mother.

Emma and I slipped away from the merriment, wandering down to where the waves gently kissed the shore. Porky frolicked ahead, bow tie discarded, utterly blissful in his sandy splendor.

“So,” she mused, leaning into me, her gaze fixed on the horizon, “was this your plan all along? Escape corporate drudgery by moving to a small beach town, only to have your perfectly ordered world disrupted by a woman in pajama shorts?”

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Ah yes, my master plan. Step one: become a reclusive hermit. Step two: have an overexcited dog obliterate my garden. Step three: make a complete ass of myself in front of his captivating owner.”

“Don’t forget step four: accidentally become the town’s favorite children’s storyteller.”

“Naturally.” I nodded sagely. “Couldn’t have orchestrated it better myself.”

She tilted her head up, the soft glow of the moon reflecting in her eyes. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were the most infuriating man I’d ever encountered. And way too damn hot for your own good.”

I gave her a wolfish grin. “Understandable. I knew you thought I was hot.”

She smacked me playfully. “But somewhere along the way...” She trailed off, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “You proved me wrong. You were still hot. Just a lot less… insufferable.”

We stood in comfortable silence, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Down the beach, the faint sounds of laughter and music drifted on the breeze.

“Did you ever think,” I began, tracing circles on the back of her hand, “that we’d end up here?”

“Honestly? Not in my wildest dreams.” She sighed contentedly. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Porky chose that moment to shake off the excess water, sending a spray of droplets our way.

I laughed, shielding my face. “Some things never change.”

“He’s consistent, I’ll give him that.”

I pulled her closer, the scent of sea air and the faint hint of her floral shampoo enveloping me. “I love you,” I murmured into her hair. “Even if you did let your dog destroy my very expensive flowers.”

She looked up, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I love you too. Even if you did accuse me of being a gold-digging seductress in my pajamas.”

I groaned dramatically. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Not a chance.” She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “But you have a lifetime to make up for it.”

“Fair enough.”

She leaned back against me, her gaze drifting back to the ocean. “So, any thoughts on where we should live? Your place has the garden, but mine has the ocean view. Plus, Porky seems to prefer my back deck for his strategic planning sessions.”

“You mean his squirrel surveillance operations?”

“Those are very important military maneuvers, I’ll have you know. He takes his squirrel-watching duties very seriously. Vital to national security, I’m told.”

I chuckled. “Well, we’d have to do something about your book situation. I don’t think my shelves can handle your ‘to be read’ pile.”

“Says the man who converted his home office into a rare book room.”

“Touché.”

She twisted the ring on her finger thoughtfully. “You know, we could always combine the properties. Your garden, my view. Create one big community space. Maybe add a little free library?”

The idea settled into my chest like it had always been there, waiting to be discovered. Like everything else about this unexpected life we’d built.

“Mrs. Peabody would love that,” I agreed. “Though she’d probably insist on curating the romance section.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t already snuck some titles into your rare book collection.”

I feigned shock. “So that’s where ‘The Duke’s Secret’ came from.”

She laughed, the sound like music in the night air. “You caught me.”

The stars emerged overhead, tiny beacons against the velvet sky. The distant sounds of the festival mingled with the gentle lapping of the waves.

“I came here looking to escape,” I admitted softly. “To hide from a life that felt... suffocating. Instead, I found a home, a family, and a woman who saw right through me.”

She squeezed my hand. “Sometimes, the best things happen when we least expect them, Playboy.”

“Agreed.” I kissed her temple, contentment washing over me. “Here’s to unexpected journeys.”

“And mischievous dogs,” she added with a grin.

“Can’t forget them.”

Porky barked in agreement, trotting back to nudge at our legs.

“Alright, buddy,” I laughed. “Time to head back?”

“Seems like it. He’s probably hoping for another scone.” Emma shot me a pointed look and smiled, intertwining her fingers with mine. “Ready to face some more Seashell Cove hijinks?”

“With you? Always.”

We walked back toward the glow of the festival, hand in hand, the future stretching out before us like the endless horizon.

“Whatever comes next,” she said softly, leaning into me, “I’m glad we’ll face it together.”

I glanced down at her, my heart full. “Me too.”

And as we rejoined the celebration, surrounded by the life I never knew I wanted, I couldn’t help but be grateful for one dog’s midnight garden invasion and all the beautiful chaos that followed.