EPILOGUE

Two years later ...

"Ready?" Talia asked, coming into Brooke and Clint's bedroom. She wore her hair long and slightly wavy down her back, with a spray of wildflowers pinned on one side behind her ear. Her dress was a simple but beautiful floral sundress that reached her shins.

"So ready," Brooke said with a big smile.

Talia offered Brooke her arm and led her out the bedroom door and down the stairs to the living room where Rocco, dressed in a white linen shirt and khakis, met her. He took Brooke's arm, and Talia beamed at them as she stepped in front of Brooke and behind her cousins.

Rocco squeezed his sister's arm. "I'm so happy for you."

"I'm so freaking happy I could burst," Brooke said, her smile hurting her face.

The song she and Clint chose started and one-by-one, her nieces and nephews made their way out the patio door to the small backyard that had been set up for the most perfect, intimate backyard wedding.

Talia, of course, was her maid of honor, and Rocco was walking her down the aisle.

"I know I already call you mom," Talia started, her shiny peach lip gloss only adding to her natural beauty, "but I'm really glad you and dad are …" Her chin wobbled a little and she exhaled out a deep breath causing her shoulders to relax. "I … I've wanted this for so long."

"I'm really glad, too," Brooke replied.

Next, it was Talia's turn to head outside and down the aisle.

So much had happened in the last two years.

She starred in two more movies, became a mental health ambassador and did a lot of work with youth, including setting up several scholarships and a fund for those who needed help but couldn't afford it. Like anxiety medications, therapy and other programs. She was giving back as much as she could, while also maintaining a firm boundary between her personal and professional life.

For the most part, the press stayed off the island, and life went back to normal. For safety, though, and peace of mind, Clint and his brothers did up security measures, and Brooke had a guard posted at the laneway twenty-four-seven.

She and Rocco still kept tabs on their father and aunt and uncle, but it was more for safety than anything. She was done with that part of her life—they both were. But knowing where their father was, as well as Rick and Gina, just added to that peace of mind thing they were going for.

Most of her days were spent on the island, helping Clint at the brewery, Talia with her homework, and making sure guests in the cabins were comfortable and cared for.

She went to the beach every day, climbed the hillside and just enjoyed the tranquility of life.

Because life had never been so sweet.

"Our turn," Rocco said, tapping her hand.

Nodding, she gripped her bouquet of wildflowers—gathered that morning by Talia from the hillside—and allowed her brother to lead her outside.

It was a very small gathering. Just family. Well, and maybe a few island friends that she'd made over the last couple of years.

But it was only people who were nearest and dearest to her and Clint. People whom they trusted—because trust was something she struggled with for a long time after Inez.

These were people who didn't see her as Brooke Barker the celebrity or actor, but as Brooke Barker, the woman who was madly in love with Clint McEvoy, and could also make a mean lentil soup—which Wyatt had finally agreed to add to the menu in the restaurant.

They exited the house onto the patio, and everyone stood up from their white folding chairs.

But the only person she saw was Clint. Standing at the end of the short altar, waiting for her. His smile was wide, but his eyes were watery as the sun beat down on him and turned his cheeks a sexy pink.

"That's the look of a man in love, right there," Rocco murmured. "But I could have told you that two years ago. He looked at you like that back then, too."

That only made Brooke smile wider.

They reached the end, and Rocco and Clint shared a hug, then Rocco squeezed her tight. "I'm so happy for you, Creek. You deserve this."

Tears stung her eyes when she pulled away from her brother. "Thank you," she mouthed, unable to form the words for real.

"You look unbelievable," Clint whispered, taking her hand and approaching Jagger, who served as the justice of the peace.

She'd gone with a simple off-white slip dress with a small train. No embellishments, no glitz. It was tasteful and elegant and perfect. Her straps were thin spaghetti style, so she had to wear some fancy silicone sticky bra things, but they'd deal with that later. Her hair flowed down her back in waves and, like Talia and the other girls, she wore a sprig of wildflowers pinned on one side by her ear.

Her mother's necklace, a teardrop pearl on a white gold chain, was the only jewelry besides her engagement band. It was also her something old.

She knew she went through the vows, repeated after Jagger and said all the right things, but it was all a blur. All she could see before her was her future with Clint, shiny, bright and beautiful, and all she could hear was the beating of her heart in her ears. Beating for him. For this life. For this family.

He slid the ring onto her finger.

She slid the ring onto his.

"Now, by the power vested in me by the state of Washington and the online course that said I was cool to do this," Jagger started, eliciting chuckles from the crowd, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

His gaze was heated and intense as he washed it over her body, ending with her face.

Cupping the back of her head with one hand, and her waist with the other, he dipped her low and claimed her as his wife. Took her mouth, and swallowed her sharp and persistent need. Giving her back a forever kind of strength. With this kiss, and all the ones before, and all the ones after, he showed her that she never needed to doubt if he would be in her corner. Have her back. Rescue her from whatever threats may come.

A warmth spread through her lower belly and curved around the bottom of her spine in a liquid caress. It pushed outward, filling up her blood and bones and soul until there was no more room for doubts or fears.

When he finally released her, she whimpered in protest. Her heart did the usual happy wiggle when their gazes met. His eyes were pure fire and deeply possessive, flooding her with primal need.

He stood her upright again, and the crowd cheered and whooped.

There would be time for celebration and their guests in a moment. But right now, she wanted just another second with Clint. The two of them. How it all started. In their own little bubble, on the altar, officially husband and wife.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling her into a huge hug. "Now and forever."

She squeezed him back, then pulled away to see his eyes. "I'm pregnant."