Epilogue. Only Want to Be with You

EPILOGUE

Only Want to Be with You

Maren

Four months later

The lodge was packed after a noontime rainstorm waylaid a lot of boaters. I don't always help behind the bar, but my only booking for today isn't until four o'clock, so I decided to offer my assistance.

That was four hours, seventeen pizzas, approximately twelve thousand beers, and at least two hundred dollars in tips ago. I don't mind, though. Time passes quickly on afternoons like this. Even though the sun is streaming in through every window, the bar, dining area, and surrounding wraparound porch are teeming with half-dressed vacationers, their day-drinking turning into night-drinking. Some thoughtful humans put Lorelai's latest chart-topping album on the electronic jukebox and I'm swaying my hips and singing along as I mix up another complicated Bloody Mary.

"Where's that pup of yours, Mare?" a guest asks as I pass him the drink and chaser and he offers me a large bill in return.

I beam, glancing out the giant picture window over the bar. Rogers is a bit of a celebrity these days around the resort. He's never short of back scratchers and stick launchers. "Out front with the kids." There's a group of them, led by Anders and Lucy in matching life jackets on the shallow beach dock. Anders is demonstrating how to toss sticks off the end for Rogers to retrieve. Lucy's sitting on the edge, dangling her toes in the cool water. If I know her, she's studying the way the water and light play off the bluegills swimming beneath her. Not far from them is Donna, in a beach chair, supervising and spoiling their dinner with ice cream.

"Hard to tell who's having more fun, Anders Cole or Rogers," the man notes.

I laugh. "Both should sleep well tonight!"

A hand finds my waist and drags gently across the small of my back, sending tingles up my spine. "It's nearly four," Joe reminds me.

I nod. "I'll cash out as soon as they show. I already set up the boat this morning." It's a little unusual my group hasn't shown up yet, but not completely out of the ordinary. It makes no difference to me. It's their money, after all. I get paid either way. And to be honest, I've made more money this summer than I thought possible. If I'd known, I'd have left the park service years ago. Between guiding and the sale of Fost's place, I've replaced my nest egg and then some. Enough that I'm thinking I might try branching out to fishing tournaments next winter.

Or not. Maybe I'll just stay here and help Joe at the resort. It'd be no hardship, that's for sure.

Joe glances out the back window, taking note of his kids out of habit, before asking someone what they want and tossing a cardboard coaster on the bartop in between them. He starts pouring another draft and I glance at the door. Another group walks in, but they're dressed for Jet Skiing. Not catching musky.

Simon walks out of the kitchen, along with one of the summertime employees, Angela, and enters behind the bar. "Have you cashed out?" he asks. I shake my head, checking the door again. "I might have my first no-show. Did anyone call off because of the rain?"

Joe passes his drinks and then reaches for the tip jar, sliding it to me. "No cancels. Go ahead and count tips."

I sneak to the back corner, tilting the jar over and splitting the tips, as if Joe and I aren't headed to the same place where we basically share all our expenses anyway. He likes to keep it professional, though, and I like to carry cash, so I play along with it, pocketing my half and tucking the other half into his back pocket.

He pats his pocket and grins. "Ready?"

"For what?"

He spreads his arms wide. "For your guided tour."

I blink, confused. "Sorry?"

"I booked you for the night. Ready?"

Warmth wells up inside of me at his boyish grin and sparkling blue eyes. He's clearly very proud of himself.

"Seriously?" I half groan, half laugh. "It's you?"

"Yeah!"

I look at his dad and Angela. "You were in on this?"

"And Donna," Simon says, his smile matching his son's. "Go." He shoos us. "Have fun."

"You didn't have to schedule yourself," I tell Joe.

"Like hell—you're Musky Maren. I booked this months ago. Four hours, paid in advance."

I roll my eyes but am feeling giddy. Four whole hours. He must catch the look in my eyes because he leans in. "Don't you dare look at me like that. I have plans."

"Well, then we'd better get moving."

I was telling the truth about packing everything earlier, so we head straight for my Ranger, hand in hand. The Ranger is sparkly and ruby red and reminds me of Dorothy's shoes in The Wizard of Oz . I fucking love the way it glitters in the late-afternoon sunshine.

"You sure you don't want anything els—" I ask before my steps stutter on the dock and my head whips to his. "Did you pack all this stuff?"

"Yup."

"When? It was raining!"

Joe jumps in, rocking the boat slightly, before holding out his hand for me to step in.

I raise an eyebrow. "That's usually my job." He shrugs his shoulder and smirks and I step in. "Does this mean you think you're driving, too?"

His eyes widen. "Would you let me?"

"Heck no." No one drives my baby.

He laughs out loud. "Didn't think so. The coordinates are already programmed in your GPS."

I settle into the driver's seat and tilt my head, considering him suspiciously. "What is going on here?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he tells me, leaning into the passenger seat and crossing his arms over his broad chest, staring straight ahead. "You're mine for four hours. Bought and paid for," he reminds me.

I turn over the motor and my instruments light up with a soft glow. Sure enough, the coordinates pop up on the screen. I skim them with a trained eye.

"Is this an island?" I ask.

"Laughlin, I swear to god. Would you please stop trying to ruin the surprise and just drive us to the coordinates I painstakingly snuck onto your precious boat to input in the middle of a monsoon?"

I giggle at his peevish tone. "All right, all right. Yes, sir."

"That's more like it."

I back us away from the dock and, without leaving a wake, motor us through the shallow bay. Anders and Lucy are standing on the shore, waving, as we pass. Rogers barks and Anders yells something like "Good luck, Dad" but honestly the motor is too loud to know for sure.

Better that I don't know, apparently.

I follow the coordinates on the twenty-minute drive to a tiny, densely wooded island in the middle of a chain of several lakes.

"Around the back," Joe directs and I slowly motor around the opposite side of the island, where it's even more remote. There's a sandy beach there, and, after checking to make sure I won't bank my motor, I park us right on the sand. Joe nimbly jumps out over the side into the sand, walking to the front and checking that we're stable. I reach for the familiar picnic basket.

"Is this coming with us?"

"Not yet," he says, holding out his hand. "First, just you."

He helps me over the side and when I land, he doesn't let go of my hand. There's a small sandy trail that leads into the woods and he guides me toward it.

"Is this private?"

"Very," he says with a waggle of his blond brows.

"I mean," I say with a laugh, "are we allowed to be here?"

"It's mine."

I gape at him. "You own an island?!"

He keeps walking, leading me through the dense underbrush, and points out a patch of poison ivy to avoid. "I own this , which is barely an island. It belonged to my family when they first bought the resort. They wanted to use it for camping, but it's a pain in the ass. Too far from the resort, shore, and town to be of any real use."

"Oh. Still cool, though."

He looks over his shoulder at me, letting go of my fingers. "I think so, which is why I bought it. To be fair, my parents gave me a deal."

"When did you buy…" My voice trails off as the brush clears and I feel confident enough that I won't trip to look up. When I do, my questions fly out of my head and my mouth drops open in a gasp. We've made it to a small, circular clearing, a meadow, with tiny purple blooms and white clovers dotting the lush green grass. The sun shines unimpeded here, warming the ground and making it appear as though everything is glowing. Loons call, western chorus frogs chirp, the wind rustles the supple summer leaves, and Josiah Cole in the middle of it all, down on one knee in the muddy grass.

"You cannot be serious."

"How's your stomach?" he jokes with a grin. "Feeling nauseous? I have some ginger ale back in the picnic basket."

I walk toward him, feeling like I'm floating, and shake my head. "What are you doing?"

He squints, tilting his head, his hair glowing in the sunlight. "Is that a real question?"

I narrow my eyes, coming to stand in front of him so he has to look up to see me. He shields his eyes. "Is this a real question?" I counter.

He holds up one finger before reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a diamond ring, holding it up between us. "Maren Laughlin, my Jig, love of my life." He grins and I press my lips together. "Still good?" he checks, and I throw my head back with a loud, laughing groan, before I gesture for him to continue. He takes a deep, cleansing breath. "In the immortal words of Jon Bon Jovi, ‘I'd live and I'd die for you, I'd steal the sun from the sky for you.' Will you let me be there for you? Forever?"

I barely hear him over the giggles erupting past my lips, doubling me over, and the tears pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks. He bites his lip, valiantly keeping a straight face, and I fling myself into his arms, tackling him to the ground with an oof .

I kiss him hard, the smile still curling my mouth when I pull back. "How could I refuse Bon Jovi?"

"My ploy worked, then."

"Tell me you didn't buy an island to propose to me."

"I wanted it to be private . I knew that was important to you. Besides," he says, putting his finger across my lips, keeping me from talking. "Now whenever we want to be alone, we can pack some bags and camp out here."

I drop my head to his chest. "God," I tell him sincerely. "I love you so much."

"Enough to marry me, possibly in front of other people?"

"I'll marry you in front of the entire world."

He holds up the ring. "You forgot something."

It's perfect. Not too big, not too small, not too flashy, but it dazzles in the clear rays of sunshine. I hold out my hand, and he slips it easily onto my bare finger.

"Holy shit, I'm gonna marry Josiah Cole," I say.

"Holy shit, I got Musky Maren to say she'll marry me," Joe says in return before pressing up and capturing my mouth in a long, sweet, forever kind of kiss.

Eventually, we unpack the boat, which it turns out is full of camping gear and dinner, along with champagne. We eat, drink, and make love under the blinking stars, and wake up in the morning slightly hungover but with zero regrets. By the time we've packed up the island— Joe's island , I think, with a belly flip—and motor back across the lakes, it's midmorning. As we get closer to the resort, Joe turns to me.

"Now, I have something to tell you, and I hope it's okay, but there's one more surprise."

"Okayyy," I drag the word out. "Though you'll have a tough time topping the last one."

"I'll never top the last one as long as we both shall live."

"I like the sound of that," I tell him, dreamily. "Is it a stop in the boathouse, because…"

He snorts, but his eyes flare with want. "Later."

We turn the final corner to the resort and a large group of people come into view. I shoot to my feet behind the wheel the moment I spot the familiar glowing blond and shining blue-black heads of my best friends.

"No way!"

"Hey, lovebirds!" Lorelai shouts from the edge of the dock. It's early, but she already has a beach drink in hand. Shelby has her newborn daughter, Gracie, in her arms, and a sob breaks in the back of my throat. And I raise both my hands to my mouth to muffle it. I hadn't realized how much I missed them.

"Whoa, whoa, hey there, you'd better let me take over the wheel," Joe says, chuckling low. I gasp, looking down, and realize I've completely let go. He eases me up and out of the seat.

Moments later, he's steered us safely toward my dock, and I'm out before he's cut the engine. Simon breaks away from the crowd to help Joe as I jump into the arms of my best friends.

"When did you get here?"

"Last night," Shelby says.

"Are you here—"

"The rest of the week," Lorelai says. "But don't you say another word and stop that crying. Let me see that ring finger!"

I show them and they both squeal, hugging me tight.

"Maren?" A little voice calls to me just as Joe is wrapping his arm around my shoulders and accepting congratulations and back pats.

I spin to see Anders and Lucy, being held back by a tearful Donna. I immediately spread my arms, and they rush to their dad and me. "Does this mean we get to keep you?"

I sniff, swiping my eyes. "This means I get to keep you ," I tell them. "I love you both so, so much."

"Love you, too," Anders says. Lucy holds up her arms to be lifted and I happily oblige, cuddling her close.

We spend the afternoon sitting on the shore of the lake, sipping drinks from the lodge and watching Rogers and the kids swim. Joe's never far from me, not even when he's standing knee-deep in the water, a beer in hand, as he shoots the shit with Cameron and Craig. Lorelai suns herself on one side of me, while Shelby nurses Gracie in the shade on the other.

I'm surrounded by love. Every one of my brothers calls me to offer their well wishes, but it's not until Liam calls that it all feels especially real.

"Excuse me," I whisper, getting to my feet. "I'll be right back."

"If you happen to pass the bar…" Lorelai says with a wink and I laugh at her easy transition into outright vacation mode.

Joe catches my eye and I mouth my big brother's name. I watch him excuse himself to join me. I put my brother on speakerphone.

"Hey, Jig," he starts. "I hear congrats are in order!"

"Yep. I caught myself a Cole."

Liam laughs and it warms me to my toes. "I knew you could do it," he says. "Joe there?"

"Right here."

"No one could be good enough for my little sister," Liam says gruffly, and I worry my lip between my teeth. "Except for you, man."

My breath slips out of me in a rush and Joe's throat works. "I'm glad you feel that way, since I expect you to stand beside me when I make her my wife."

"Wouldn't miss it. I love you both."

My voice is barely above a whisper. "Love you, too, Liam."

I end the call, shoving my phone in my back pocket, and Joe reaches for my hand. "So that's that," he says.

"I guess so," I say, tipping my head onto his shoulder. "Now all we have left to do is get married and spend the rest of our lives together."

"I'm ready," he says. "You?"

I pretend to think. "Question: Will it include more Bon Jovi karaoke?"

His deep chuckle vibrates under my cheek. "I'll add it to the vows."

"Then yes. A hundred billion times yes."