Epilogue

"Don't,"Grant said, his tone serious, but he knew I wasn't going to listen, which is why he smiled as he said it. He knew by the smirk on my face that there was no way I was listening to him. Not with an audience and armed with a piece of bourbon-vanilla cake in my hand.

Tonight was the eighty-fourth wedding I had planned. And out of all of them, it was my favorite, because it was mine.

"Open," Grant says with a forkful of our wedding cake hovering in front of me.

"Mmm, it tastes even better now," I say with a mouthful. The hammock swings gently as I let my bare foot skim the grass beneath.

"I agree, because," he says over a bite, "the first piece I had got shoved so far up my nose, I don't think I really savored the flavor."

I can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of me as he kisses my head.

He had held up a piece, and like a good husband, led it to me with minimal mess. I even licked a bit of frosting from his thumb as stealthily as I could. But when it came time to do the same for him, I went for it. I held it to his mouth, and just as he opened, I flicked my hand higher, smushing it on his mustache and slightly up his nose. He got me back. He snagged me around the waist and kissed me deeply as Italian buttercream slid around my mouth and down to my neck when he kept going. The hoots and hollers from our small wedding party egged it on. It was one of the dozens of memories from today that will never leave me.

I walked down the aisle toward Grant in a pair of white cowboy booties and the prettiest cream-colored dress I had ever seen. I wanted to wait so we could get married outside in the field of wildflowers behind our home, so I chose a short, flowy dress from Loni's, a pair of custom cowboy boots from a designer in New York, and a certain German Shorthaired Pointer as my guide. It felt only right to have Julep as my escort—she was my guardian. There was no other way to put it. And I was lucky enough to be joining her family.

"I don't smell it as strongly anymore," I say, taking a sip from the round silver flask that Hadley had given to me this morning.

"The air doesn't smell the same. It does, but I think I've gotten so used to it now that I don't notice it."

"It's because you're a Foxx now," he says in that deep voice that hits me right in the gut and sends goosebumps down my arms.

"That's not a thing."

"You've been smelling a lot of bourbon, tasting new things, your senses are being conditioned. It's a real thing. It just means you're one of us."

I smile at that, swinging slowly on our hammock and thinking about the day.

Grant stood in front of me, holding my hand as he slid on a diamond ring to join my finger that had been wearing his nana's band. His eyes watered as he said his vows. "I promise to love you. In this life, but also in the next. You're the part I never believed in. The kind of partner I didn't understand. Until you got here, I didn't know. But now that I do, I vow to stand next to you always, behind you for backup, and in front of you for protection."

"Griz seemed to know how to whip you around that dance floor," he laughs.

"He might have strained his back when he spun me," I say, wincing a little."

The Doobie Brothers played over the speakers in what should have been the father-daughter dance, but it felt like my dad was there as his favorite band played. Griz was a great stand-in. We have a standing breakfast date every Monday morning before I head into the distillery, and he makes his way there every afternoon for a survey of the place. Grant and his brothers think it's Griz's way of keeping tabs, but I just think it's his way to stay tied to something he loves so deeply.

My husband starts humming a little Fleetwood Mac."Go Your Own Way" isn't a typical wedding song, but our story isn't very typical either.

"Happiest day of my life, Mrs. Foxx," Grant says with a mouthful of cake.

I smile and look up from his chest. "So far..."

"Yeah, baby. So far . . ."

The humidity finally broke, and it's the first autumn night that actually feels like it. The heat lamps crackle every time a bug flies into it, but they're keeping us warm so we can still enjoy dinner out on the patio.

Ace flips the banana pancake onto the stack he just piled at the center of the table. "I didn't do chocolate chips this time. Cinnamon and banana seemed like it would be sweet enough."

Hadley chimes in, "Did you want us to skip the syrup too, Atticus?

"Atticus?"

"Is that what happens when you hit your forties? You stop adding fun to pancakes and start repeating what people say?" She looks around the table, with Griz laughing at the head.

Griz cups his ear. "Say that again?"

That gains a laugh from everyone at the table except Ace.

Hadley swats at the air in front of her. "Anyway, I have some fun news." She looks around. "I just hired a resident burlesque dancer."

"For what?"

Hadley looks at Lincoln like he's an idiot for asking. Sarcastically, she says, "For invigorating conversations." She rolls her eyes. "For Midnight Proof, obviously. I want more than just the jazz band for entertainment. It's such a good idea. Laney's idea, actually."

My wife smiles at her.

"Plus, she's a total smokeshow now. I kind of have a crush on her." She waves that off. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll see her around."

Hadley's eyes widen as she leans over the table to see where Lily and Lark have gone. I follow her line of sight, and both girls are on the couch, already engrossed in something on their tablets. She whisper-shouts, pointing at Lincoln, "You will not, I repeat, will not take my new girl for a whirl."

He sits back with a smirk. "Seriously, Hads?"

She looks around at me, Ace, then Griz. "Your slut-astic escapades are not coming anywhere near Midnight Proof. Do I make myself clear? She needs a good ol' small town welcome, not HPV as a welcome present."

"First of all, fuck you. I'm not giving anyone HPV."

"As far as you know . . ."

The two of them are like a variety show, always have been, and sometimes I do wonder if she's really our sister with the amount of grief she dishes to Linc and Ace.

"Wait what do you mean ‘she's a smokeshow now?' Is she from Fiasco?" Linc asks.

She crosses her arms, giving him a glare."No. I should have never mentioned this." She points at him. "We're not talking about her because I don't want to hear how she has to quit because you're not calling her back or how you need to know which nights she's working to avoid coming in or some dumb shit." Chugging his water, he slams the glass down, slightly out of breath.

"Are you okay?" Ace asks her hesitantly.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah, Daddy, just fine."

"Jesus Christ," he huffs out as Lark calls for him.

"Uncle Ace, the Wi-Fi isn't working," she croons from the next room.

Hadley leans across the table and smiles. "It's like a drug. I can't help myself with him. It's like the how-much-can-I-make-Ace-uncomfortable Olympics."

"Gold medal work, Hads," Linc says.

She salutes him. "Seriously, though, hands off the new girl. You bourbon boys and fresh meat..."

Laney leans her head on my shoulder and squeezes my knee. "Was that the appeal?" She wiggles her eyebrows. "Fresh meat?"

I kiss her lips. "I hadn't had any meat for years before you showed up. It was all you, baby."

She smiles up at me.

"You two are so cute, I think I was just smiling at you both for no reason," Hadley says. "Now my face hurts."

"Calm down, Hadley Jean. Your time will come. Don't get your knickers in a bunch." Griz smiles at her over his bourbon.

"That's the problem, Griz. There's no one getting in my knickers."

"How about a little rumor for ya, then? I've got some good gossip about who is gettin' some," Griz says, resting his elbows on the table.

"Dish!" she says as she gets up, rounding the table.

Ace comes back in, sending her a disciplinary look. "Why are you encouraging him?"

She flutters her lashes at him. "He's the only one with anything interesting happening around here."

"Haven't we had enough ‘interesting' for a little while?"

She laughs, clapping her hands like it's the funniest thing—which, to be fair, when she's on a run with putting my brothers in their place, it's hilarious. "Yup, it's official, you've become the boring brother. I thought Grant had you beat, but then he went and leveled up with Laney."

I couldn't help but smile at the backhanded Hadley-compliment. It was a small thing, getting together every Friday night for breakfast at dinnertime with my family. Some weeks, we had to skip it for some reason or another, but most of the time, everyone made it a priority. They became just as much Laney's family as they were mine.

When she wasn't with me, she was with Hadley, getting into some kind of trouble, but outside of that, she worked hard alongside my brothers. Building our family business as if she'd always been there. Only now, she had her own staff, a few people who helped her run the small events we took on at the distillery and inside the new barn that was erected in place of the rickhouse that had burned down.

"Thank you," she whispers to me. And I know what she means. "For a family."

I kiss the side of her head, dragging my fingers lazily along where the hem of her skirt meets her thigh. Damn, I love this woman. I lean into her and lower my voice. "What do you say we cut out of here and practice."

She tilts her head back to meet my eyes. "Practice?"

I smirk. "Want to practice making it bigger?"

She looks down at my lap. And the smile that takes over her face and reaches her eyes, crinkling them at the sides, is the best one I've gotten all day.

"It?" she says, biting her lip.

"I meant our family?—"

"Looks like I'm already really good at making things bigger, cowboy."

I mumble, "Jesus Christ," as I drag my hand over my mouth.

Pushing her chair out, she drops her napkin on the table, and then leans in close. I stare at those pretty lips of her as she whispers, "And this time, I'm not lying."

"About what, honey?"

Her lips skim just below by ear when she whispers, "I'm not wearing any panties."

THE END