Epilogue

Angie

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Remi checked the strap around my waist for the fiftieth time.

Cold steel steadied me. I gripped the railing and peered into the depths of the Snake River Canyon, cloaked in the glow of leftover spring rains and bathed in early sunlight. Waterfalls crashed over the edge of cliffs. The hem of my white gown flapped against my calves in rhythm with the edge of Papa’s red flannel jacket.

It still carried hints of wood smoke and lavender laundry detergent of fresh rain and soil. Wrapped in the warmth of his jacket, its worn fabric soft against my skin, and cocooned by his smell, Papa was here with me—not to walk me down the aisle but to take a leap with me.

“It looks a lot higher from up here,” I mumbled through gritted teeth. My toes curled in my white tennis shoes, tingling and growing numb. The only comfort I had was strapped to me.

Remi.

He’d BASE jumped hundreds of times and was certified to do the tandem jump we were about to attempt.

“One word from you, and I can tell all these people to go away,” Remi whispered against my ear.

My gaze strayed to the pavement where flashing lights blocked and rerouted traffic. All our guests sat in chairs draped in satin with white balloons tied to them. Pedro and his wife with their kids, Rex and Wendy, the entire staff of the farm store, and most of the town of Clear Springs crowded onto the asphalt. Lili, Blake, Maddie, and Renee sat next to Mama and Jared in the front row, Maddie clutching a leash that kept our energetic Roscoe from running off.

Lili held little Benny, and Blake held baby Brady. The boys sat in their laps, happily playing with the white rattles I’d given them before the ceremony. It was crazy how much they’d grown in six months and how much they’d changed in that time.

Remi’s family sat next to mine—Matthew and his parents—looking less than enthused by their surroundings.

My gaze faltered on the empty seat next to Mama. “You were right, Papa,” I whispered to myself, my grip tightening on the flannel cuff.

I’d found my own adventure.

“Do you, Remington James Cockrell the Third, take Angelina Johnson to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Chuck asked. He stood opposite us on the safe side of the railing wearing a pearl snap, plaid shirt, and jeans. It turned out he had a license to wed and had agreed to marry us on the edge of the Perrine bridge. All the other pastors were too afraid of heights.

“Last chance,” Remi whispered. Louder and toward our guests he said, “I do.”

I gave him a nod, reassuring him this was my choice. And I’d continue to choose him from this moment until forever caught us.

“Then let’s do this.”

Carefully, he helped me climb over the rail with him. We stood on a metal platform suspended over the abyss.

“Do you, Angelina Johnson,” Leaning into his role, Chuck paused, adding dramatic effect. “Take Remington James the Third to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

My heart raced; the back of my neck broke out in a cold sweat. Two words were the only things standing between me and the greatest leap of my life. I reached behind me and gripped Remi’s waist.

Without a doubt, I wanted my every adventure to begin and end with Remi. His muscles tightened against my back, anticipating my answer.

“I … do.”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife,” Chuck proclaimed.

Remi launched us off the platform, and I screamed. Our canopy opened, slowing our descent, but I continued to scream—all 486 feet to the ground.

The End