Epilogue

Lu

The New Year's Eve celebration in downtown Cozy Creek was in full swing when Noah and I arrived.

Despite the cold and the snow on the ground, children were bundled up and dashing around with sparklers. Main Street was all lit up and festive with its black and silver decorations. I was wearing some highly impractical sequin-studded shoes for the occasion. But sometimes you just had to wear the shoes.

In a lot of ways, the upcoming new year felt like a new beginning. One I was ready to welcome with open arms.

Noah's fingers laced through mine, and I shot him a bright smile. The one I got in return made my stomach flip.

We'd been living together for almost a month now, and things were going great. True to his word, we'd painted every room in the new house to make it a bright and cheerful home that I loved. His one demand was hanging his Live Laugh Love painting above his desk in our shared office. We'd gotten used to being in each other's space, and I had to admit, Noah was a good roommate. We were even talking about adopting a dog in the spring.

The upcoming year had me feeling hopeful. Change was a necessary part of life, and sometimes those changes took your breath away.

Tonight's festivities included the grand opening of the Lily Carmichael Memorial Gallery. I was happy to support Lily's son, Levi, who'd chosen to honor his late mother with a fitting memorial as well as display her amazing photographs for all to see and experience. Lily had been a loving staple in Cozy Creek and a gifted photographer. And she'd been taken far too soon and was greatly missed by the community.

When I'd contacted Levi and expressed interest in occupying a tiny corner of his gallery with my artwork, he'd been all for it. And tonight—for the first time in a very long time—I'd get to see my original paintings displayed at an art venue.

I was slowly dipping my toes back into creating. For so long, I'd pushed that part of myself to the wayside in favor of the business side of things—the lucrative and efficient side of things. But despite what my dad always presumed, I did have enough room for that side of myself. The parts that enjoyed painting and our beautiful surroundings, the mountains, and the places my mom had loved. It was another way I could keep her in my heart, and I liked to think that she would support me in painting again.

I still had DeLuLu Designs. That was my business and my baby. It wasn't going anywhere. Now, I simply made time for myself to create and to have fun with it.

The paintings displayed this evening would be available for purchase, and Levi seemed to think the tourist population would be excited for the opportunity to take a piece of Cozy Creek home with them. I was trying to feel brave about putting myself out there, but nerves were creeping around the corner.

"Whoa," I breathed, catching sight of the crowd in front of the gallery.

I slowed as we approached, and Noah glanced back. "Everything okay?"

Clearing my throat, I managed, "Yeah, just surprised at the turnout."

"I'm not. Want me to announce that my girlfriend is a featured artist and to get out of the way?"

"God, no," I said, tugging his arm. But then I looked at the grin on his handsome face and realized he was joking.

After a moment, we waded into the crowd, and Noah leaned down. With his lips by my ear, he whispered, "It's going to be great. I just know it, Lu-onardo Da Vinci."

Something tight in my chest loosened a bit as amusement wormed its way in. I pulled back to eye him. "That was . . . "

"Kind of a stretch." Noah grinned. "I know. I'm workshopping others. How about Pablu Picasso?"

I laughed, another band of unease snapping in the face of Noah's playful distraction.

"Frida Kahlu?"

"Oh my gosh," I exclaimed, but I was still laughing.

And then we were inside the open gallery doors and I loved Noah for a million different reasons—another one joining the list as he worked to put me at ease, making me feel supported and cared for and so damn grateful. I felt unbearably lucky to have him here tonight.

My phone buzzed rapid-fire inside the pocket of my skirt. I pulled it out to find a string of texts from Cody.

Cody: Just got off work.

Cody: I'll be down the mountain in twenty.

Cody: I have my name tag ready to go: Best Friend to the Artist

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but grin.

Another buzz.

Cody: Save me a glass of champagne.

I was much more relaxed as we eventually made our way fully into the gallery. Levi had done a great job rehabbing the downtown storefront in the last few weeks. It was all elegant lines and a bright, welcoming space—exactly what Lily Carmichael would have wanted.

We spied the new business owner and his girlfriend, Claire, who I'd heard all about on the Cozy Creek grapevine. I was eager to introduce myself, but I wasn't about to elbow my way over there and interrupt the way those two were looking at each other.

Noah got some back slaps and hey, mans from several fire brigade members, including Pace Leigh. Cole Sutter was also in attendance, with a stylish Madi Winslow on his arm. Cole's two adorable children looked excited to be up past their bedtime. I grinned at what a gorgeous family they made.

Noah snagged two champagne flutes as we worked through the crowd. We checked out Lily's permanent collection of photographs as well as other local artists who'd chosen to display their work on the gallery walls. All types of media were represented, including some of Levi's amazing woodworking sculptures on pillars.

Eventually, we turned the corner to the area I knew housed my collection of landscapes, but I nearly stumbled at the picture waiting for me.

My dad was standing in front of my pieces. His thinning brown hair and wool dress coat were so familiar yet so distant that I felt myself rooted in place, emotions going haywire.

Since I'd given my dad and stepfamily my ultimatum back in November, my dad kept acting like nothing had changed. He'd invited me to spend the holidays—Thanksgiving and Christmas—with him and Kimberly and Ginny like my angry breakdown in his kitchen had never happened. And I'd responded to each text politely and declined each time. He'd made no effort to meet me on neutral ground. So I'd assumed he'd made his decision, choosing to fully embrace his new family in favor of all that was left of his old one.

Seeing him in the gallery, in front of my paintings, was off-putting and confusing.

And I definitely hadn't expected him to show up here tonight with no clear invitation from me—to support something that he'd done his best to minimize and talk me out of my whole life. He'd always insisted I use my art and design degree to teach. I understood a father wanting security and success for his daughter, but my love for art—for the sake of art—had never been something he could wrap his head around.

"Dad?"

He spun at my question. With a finger extended, he pointed at the painting on the left. It was a night landscape, all dreamy midnight blues with inky shadows for mountains, the snow on the peaks gleaming in the ethereal moonlight, and the bright stars sparkling in the sky amid shades of violet. "That's Coleman Overlook."

I nodded, feeling the confused frown overtake my features.

"Your mom loved it there."

"I know," I replied quietly. "I still visit."

"You do?" His expression spoke of surprise and sadness. My father had wanted to separate his life cleanly, a hot knife dividing his time with my mother to before and after her death. Maybe it was hard to imagine he'd raised a daughter who willingly and deliberately held on to the things he'd been desperate to let go of in his grief.

"I do," I confirmed, voice close to breaking. "I even took Noah there."

"Noah," he repeated as if just now noticing the silent, watchful man at my side. With surprising speed and recovery, the finger he held aloft toward the painting transitioned to an outstretched hand. "It's, um, nice to meet you, son. I apologize for the way?—"

"It's okay," Noah said quickly, cutting him off. He returned my father's gesture before bending close to me. "I'll give you a minute to talk."

"No, stay," my dad interjected. "I wanted to talk to you both. To tell you I was sorry, and that I'd like very much to be in your lives. To make the effort." He turned watery eyes on me. "To get to know you both better."

Noah always claimed I had a forgiving heart. And maybe my dad wasn't perfect, but he was here, and he was trying. I had to hope he'd stand behind his claims. It wasn't so much forgiveness as wanting my dad back. But I was done settling for the bare minimum. So I didn't rush to reassure him, and I didn't throw my arms around him.

With careful deliberateness, I said evenly, "I'd like that, Dad."

I could have asked about Kimberly, but her absence was indication enough. And I didn't want to start something that would take away from this night—one I was proud to be a part of and celebrate accordingly.

My father ushered me forward, heedless of the people crowding around for a better look. He asked me about the other landscapes on display and wanted to know about the areas I'd painted. I discussed my process—the sketches I made from life and the color studies I did in person. Others in the crowd realized I was the artist at some point and joined in with their praise and questions. I was so deep in answering thoughtful, curious inquiries from both strangers and my father alike that I didn't notice the sold stickers beside each title plaque until Noah tilted his head in the direction of one.

Pride and joy swelled somewhere deep inside. I hadn't set out to make money or a name for myself, and I likely never would. I'd simply been eager to acknowledge the part of my heart I'd ignored for many years. Validation wasn't necessary but it did ignite a tiny spark that had me staring in wonder at those little stickers.

When I'd gone quiet, and my father had gone back to staring at the Coleman Overlook painting, Noah dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my temple. "I'm so proud of you."

I turned and caught his surprised lips unaware. "I love you, Noah," I said softly after pulling away. "Happy New Year." I was so grateful for his unexpected arrival in my very ordinary life all those months ago.

His hazel eyes were warm swirls of brown and green that never failed to draw me in. "I love you back. So much. I can't wait to spend every new year with you."

And what a future it was shaping up to be.