Epilogue

Two years later

"Hi, babe," I say, walking into our sunny country kitchen at the end of the day. I've been in my studio. I got lost in the work, which is the best feeling. I'm painting these romantic couple portraits based on photos I've taken, and I love the way they're turning out.

Johnny's at the stove making chili. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, putting my left hand atop his in a pose that's second nature to us now. "Checking in on you."

That's our code for "When's the last time you thought about killing yourself?"

He pauses to think about it. "I'm good. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had a suicidal thought. It's been … a while."

I kiss the nape of his neck—which I have to go up on my toes to do, although it's easier when he's in sock feet, as he is now. "Even if you did, you know it'd be okay, right?"

"Yup, darlin'. I do. Feels good to have some space between the dark thoughts, though." Johnny smirks. "We should make up one of those safety signs like they have at those construction supply stores. ‘It's been 365 days since John Haskell's had a suicidal thought.'"

His words make my chest expand until it hurts. "Has it been that long? A year?"

Johnny shrugs and turns around to kiss me properly, his hands around my waist. "Not sure. Maybe. It's been so long that when I do have them, my thought process is like ‘Hey, I recognize you. Thanks for coming to visit, but you don't have to stay.'"

"Yay," I murmur. "I'm so glad to hear it." I look down at my paint-spattered clothes. "Let me get cleaned up, and I'll help you cook."

He waves a hand. "Ain't no bother. I think the First Son can take a break from cookin' every now and again."

I snort. "First Son. Yeah, I guess. Damn, I'm so glad she's in the White House. I love all the changes that she's making."

"I'm not usually one to be optimistic," Johnny says. "But I have hope."

"Come on, Lady," Johnny calls after dinner. He saunters out into the dappled sunlight under the sycamore trees, headed for the barn. We're going to take the horses out for an early-evening ride.

Even though he objected at first, once Johnny realized how easily we could afford it between my trust fund and his lawsuit win, we bought a ranch in Hidden Valley. The real value is in the land—there's a lot of it, and it's quiet and private. While the house is nice, it's not the biggest one out here, and that suits us fine, because what we really care about is getting him out in nature and with animals.

Lady has a friend now, named, appropriately enough, the Tramp. He's a geriatric mutt that Johnny fell in love with at the pound. I couldn't tell him no. The Tramp needs a little extra assistance with life, and Johnny gladly gives it to him.

And of course we've got two horses of our own—Nolan and Dakota. We go riding most afternoons and for long rides on the weekends. Johnny still works part time at the neighbor's ranch, too. He never looks more peaceful than when he's mucking out stalls and grooming horses and generally taking care of them. Oh, and I help out. At home, anyway. Johnny's taught me my way around a curry comb, and I've mucked more stalls than I'd ever care to. I like having our animals all spick-and-span.

Tonight, I'm following behind him with the Tramp, because I love watching Johnny work. I've always liked watching him—the way he moves is confident and sexy and oh so focused.

But right now, my pulse is racing and my mouth's getting dry. My nerve endings are tingling.

I tell myself to calm down, but my self doesn't seem to want to listen.

After we tack up the horses and take them out to the corral, Johnny smiles at me. Before he makes a move to mount up, I say, "Hey, Johnny?"

"What's up, precious?" My big, sweet, happy cowboy steps toward me.

My knees feel a little weak, so I hold on to one of the bars of the corral. "I was wondering something."

He gives me his full attention. "What's that?"

"You know that you're the love of my life, right?" Heat creeps up my neck and cheeks, and my heart beats even faster.

Johnny's eyes get brighter. "And you're the love of mine."

"What would you think about getting married?" I ask. "Or rather, since my proposal in Las Vegas was kind of crappy, what do you think about actually staying married?"

"Hon, I thought we were."

Then his eyes widen as he watches me get down on one knee, in the dirt and all. I hold out a ring. "I like our simple bands, but they were chosen when we didn't have our full faculties about us. I want to love you in the sober light of day. With nothing around us but nature. No lights, no strippers, no drinking, no dancing. Just us, the dogs, the horses, and"—I gesture—"the sunset. So, whadda you say, cowboy? I love you more than I ever imagined I could love anyone. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Yes, Kurt. I'd … yes," Johnny says. He tugs me up into his arms and kisses me. "I love you," he whispers fervently against my lips, his hat sheltering me from the breeze.

"The entire world is better when you're in it with me," I say.

"I feel the same way. When do you wanna get hitched again?"

"I don't care. I just want to know what I promise you."

"Oh, precious. I know what I promise you. I promise to love you in good times and bad. No matter how good the good, and no matter how bad the bad. I just plain love you. We can talk about it more, but there's no need for talkin' when two people understand each other. And I understand you, and you understand me."

"Yeah," I whisper. "I do."

"As Mama says, there's plenty of good hay in the barn, and a smart horse finds his way home. I found my way home with you."

I kiss him hard. "Tell me what else your mama says?"

"I intend to spend the rest of my life doing that."