Epilogue

OTTO

SIX WEEKS LATER

I've never brought a woman home to meet my family. There's never been one to bring home to them—until now. Grace is the first of a lot of things. And I can't wait for her to be the first of many more.

" Maman ," I murmur.

She lifts her head and reaches out her fingers to slide across the backs of mine. Then she stares at me in silence.

"I like her," she whispers. "She doesn't know French, but she can learn."

Laughing softly, I shake my head a couple of times, then turn my hand over, palm facing up. Her hand shifts, and I curl my fingers around hers, gripping them gently.

"I wish you would come and visit us. What is going to happen when you have grandkids?"

She pulls her hand away, placing it in her lap as she looks down. I can tell she's embarrassed, and I feel like an asshole, but I hate the fact that she's effectively locked herself here.

"Don't get on your mother's back like that," my father grumbles as he walks into the room.

Turning my head, I look over to him. "Where's Grace?" I ask.

He was supposed to be taking her around the house, showing her all the things while I talked to Mom. He shrugs a shoulder. "She said she was going upstairs to lie down."

I don't believe him. And if she did go upstairs to lie down, I'm afraid he must've upset her in some way. I hope that isn't the case, but it's likely. My dad can be a bit harsh at times. It's only because he gets stressed out easily.

Shifting my attention back to my mother, I place my hands flat on the table. My gaze is focused on her and only her. Because right now, I want her to know how serious I am about this.

"I love you both," I start. "I want to see more of you. I don't like the way things are. I don't like this for our children. You're all Grace and I have for them as grandparents. It was one thing when I was single. It's different now."

My mother lifts her hand to wipe her tears away. I feel like an asshole for saying anything at all. I should have just left everything at status quo, even if I didn't like the way it was. But I couldn't. They had to know the truth.

"I'm sorry I've hurt you. I wish I were different. I want to be different."

I want her to be different, too, but she isn't. I have to accept her the way she is, just like Grace accepts me the way I am. I flick my gaze over to my dad. He dips his chin in a single nod that is so telling that I have nothing more to say.

"You don't need to be sorry," Grace says, moving into the room. My attention swings to her as she continues speaking. "Mrs. Larsson, you are perfect the way you are. Plus, it just means we'll have to plan more trips to Canada, and I've already fallen in love with everything here, so I don't think that would be a hardship."

Something flashes in my mother's eyes. A light. A spark that I've never seen before. She turns to Grace, then stands to her feet and moves toward her. I hold my breath, unsure of what she's going to say.

But then my mother lifts her hands and cups Grace's cheeks. "When my Otto was a new babe, I imagined he would find some girl who would hate me, and we'd never see him again. Being the mother on the father's side seems to be the most hated family position. And he is my one and only."

My mother reaches down to wrap her hands around Grace's. Seeing them together, I can't believe that I have found someone who is so gentle with my mother. Who is so calm, kind, and caring.

"I have no other family to speak of," Grace whispers. "I would never want to alienate the only family we have. I want us to be close. Otto speaks so highly of you all. I want to live a harmonious life."

My mother sniffles before she speaks again. "I can feel it in my bones. You're a good girl, Grace. I don't pretend to know your background. I hope that one day, you can trust me with that. But I appreciate your words."

I watch as my mother and Grace hug. Their moment is a little too estrogen-filled for my father, so he marches outside through the back door, closing it behind him. Typically, I would stay with my mother, not because I don't want to be with my dad, but because my mother usually needs more attention.

This time, I follow my father outside, knowing that my mother is, without a doubt, under control. Grace has this. Has her. And as my gaze catches hers, she gives me a single nod before I slip outside.

"Dad?" I call out as I approach him.

He's got his hands on the banister of the back porch and his head tipped slightly as he stares down at the grass below.

"She's the one, then?" he asks.

I can't tell if he's upset, worried, or pissed. My father is typically a man of few words, but it seems he's got something to say, so I stay quiet and wait for him to continue. He turns his head, his eyes slowly lifting to mine before he speaks.

"I think you have found her, son."

Sinking my teeth into the corner of my bottom lip, I nod my head once. "I have," I whisper.

And that is that. Our moment complete. We stand in silence, saying nothing to one another and yet saying everything.

Moments later, my mother and Grace make their way to our sides. The four of us look out at the small forest that makes up the backyard. I spent my childhood roaming that forest. Playing all types of imaginary games and wondering what the future would hold for me, never realizing that it could hold so many wonderful things and people.

The people in my life.

I don't think I could have ever dreamed of these people who I've grown close to. The people I call my family. They're all amazing in a dozen different ways, and I'm grateful for every single one of them.

Then there's Grace.

In a million years, I could have never imagined her.

My bride.

My future.

My life.