Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ROSIE

It’s my wedding day, and I’m in a sitting room at Smith House in my dress with a towel wrapped around me, because I refuse to do anything that might mess up this absolute dream of a gown. But my brother Seamus brought a special bottle of whiskey from New York City—and if your brother brings you special whiskey for your wedding day, you don’t say no to a congratulatory shot with him.

Or at least that’s what our dad would have told us.

Of course, he probably should have been a lot better at saying no to our uncle, but I try not to get caught up in regret. Because if my father hadn’t made mistakes, then we wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to learn from them. Declan would never have moved to Marshall, he never would have met Claire, and I wouldn’t be about to marry the love of my life.

Maybe I sound na?ve, saying a man I’ve only really known a month is the love of my life, but if you don’t pay attention to the good things in life when they appear, there’s a whole lot you may be missing.

I didn’t think I was going to marry Anthony. I honest-to-God didn’t set out to marry him, even if I’m kind of an idiot for not having immediately wanted to drag him to the altar. Because every single thing about him captured my attention. From that very first moment when he looked at me and called me an angel, and I looked at him and saw someone who was feeling as broken as I had when I left New York.

He's one hell of a man, and he’s mine.

My husband. My sundae with the cherry.

We haven’t fixed each other—people can’t do that. A person can only fix him or herself, but that’s not to say other people can’t hold your pieces together until you find enough energy to grab some glue. Without our friends, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have each other.

I glance around, taking in some of the wonderful souls who have shown up for me today—Seamus and Declan, Joy, who keeps telling me I told you so, Lainey and Claire, and Emma. Normally, it’s just the bridal party who hangs out with the bride before the big moment, but I wasn’t about to push my brothers away.

Seamus and Claire’s father got in on Friday after what Seamus has described as the longest car-ride in the history of motor vehicles. Apparently, Claire’s dad required several hours to pack, which meant they weren’t able to leave until Friday morning, and they made no less than six stops—for reasons varying from Mr. Rainey wanting to buy the gimmicky crap at Cracker Barrel to him seeing a sign advertising a winery he’d heard of and insisting he “just had to” get a bottle for Claire.

Still, I know they’re secret buddies. When Joy played Cyndi Lauper yesterday, both of them sang along. And Seamus has admitted to me that one of the hundreds of topics they discussed on the drive down—since awkward silences give Mr. Rainey hives—is the possibility of moving here.

I instantly vowed that I would never let Seamus leave. He insisted he’d at least have to go back for his stuff, and I pointed out that earthly belongings were overrated, and wasn’t the true holiday message that people were what really mattered?

Speaking of people who rock…

Nicole and Damien are out prowling the floor and looking for trouble to root out, which is almost certainly unnecessary, but I think she’s still annoyed that we figured out who was behind the website before she did—and also that her game of human Clue has been subverted.

Mrs. Rosings is entertaining the guests. Her word. Emma thinks she’s tormenting them, which seems more accurate. I have no doubt she will have everyone seated in the great room at the precise time the ceremony is due to start. And, what do you know, my future mother-in-law has appointed herself the master of ceremonies. She’ll be the one asking us if we’d like to say I do .

But Mrs. Rosings is more of a soft touch than she’d like anyone to know.

When we got back on Thursday night, we were surprised to discover the house was not actually full of orange and brown confetti and banners. It turns out she’s spent the past month and a half trying to undo all of the damage she purposefully did to the wedding plans to sabotage Nina. The colors are now champagne and a deep purple. The house has been beautifully and tastefully decorated, the DJ was replaced with a local band, and I’m assured the food will be perfectly edible. Claire made the cake! She kept it as a surprise, which is in itself surprising, because I didn’t think Claire could keep secrets.

Nicole and I no longer have to keep secrets, thank the lord, because Declan finally proposed to Claire this morning—in Mrs. Rosings’s lake house. Anthony helped him arrange everything, and now I’m almost positive they’re buddies and can put the whole snowplow incident behind them.

Speaking of which, Anthony confirmed to me via text that Pat the snowplow driver is not only coming but has already arrived in the building. I’ve tried to send Joy downstairs so she could get the hop on any other senior citizens who might try to bag Santa Claus, but she refuses to leave her duties as a bridesmaid to try and get lucky. I’m hoping she’ll give him a chance, though. If anyone deserves to be loved by everyone she meets, it’s Joy.

Anthony is with Jake, Gene, and Dom. Probably drinking flat beer if our friends from The Peanut Bar had anything to do with the provisions. I love the thought of the three of them giving him pep talks as he gets ready to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Just kidding. He’s assured me that marrying me is the best thing that could possibly happen to him—and I’m inclined to agree, because I feel the same way about him.

My mind is all over the place when Seamus taps my arm, lifting his eyebrows. “You’re missing my heartfelt speech.”

I pretend to gasp. “I’d never.”

“Fuck it,” he says, lifting his drink. “It was brilliant. It wouldn’t be half as good if I tried repeating it, so we’re going to fast-forward straight to the end.”

Emma laughs as she raises her drink, and I catch the appreciative look my brother gives her. She’s looking very fine in the sexy purple dresses she, Lainey, Claire, and Joy picked out for themselves.

I noticed Emma and Seamus talking last night, at the rehearsal dinner Mrs. Rosings held for the wedding party. Emma was drunk, which means she must have been knocking hard liquor back all day, because that woman can drink like a fish. It looked a bit intense. But when I asked Seamus about it later, he said they’d had a lively discussion of whiskey brands.

My heart beats a little faster, but I can’t get ahead of myself. My brother is a man who has never shown any serious intentions toward anything but a crappy car or a bottle of Jameson, and Emma made it clear she no longer believes in love and marriage when she tried to talk me out of marrying her brother. Still. If having a hot, rude sister-in-law does it for him, I’m not above adding it to my get Seamus to stay playbook.

Sue me. I’m a woman who wants to keep my family together.

“To my little sister, Rosie,” Seamus says, lifting the glass. “If I had to guess which of us would meet and a marry a person within the same month, it would be you.”

I roll my eyes. “I technically met him a few months ago, when he was supposed to marry someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s better,” he says, then winks at me and hoists his glass. “Slainte.”

We all drink, the warmth filling me up, and I’m happy. So happy my heart feels like a balloon, but I’m keeping it trapped, because I know what balloons like to do.

“It’s time,” Declan says, nudging Seamus’s arm.

“You both better hug me before you go,” I say, feeling tears wanting to spill.

“No tears,” Lainey yelps. “Think shrewish thoughts.”

“Think about Nina,” Emma puts in. “That should do it.”

I blink them back, then gesture to my brothers. Declan hugs me as if I’m an egg, and he’s worried he’ll crack me. “I’m not messing around with that dress,” he mutters in answer to my teasing look.

Then Seamus hugs me, and I’m reminded, for about the fifteen thousandth time since he arrived, of how much I’ve missed him. “Stay,” I tell him in an undertone. “It’s my wedding wish.”

“I have a lease in New York,” he says as he pulls back, giving me a wry, Oh Rosie look.

“Break it. You love breaking things. I’ve seen you sledgehammer cars.”

“Broken ones.”

“Stay.”

He bops me on the nose. “I’ll think about it.

“Less thinking, more doing,” I say, which is basically his life motto.

He salutes me and leaves with Declan—because they’re groomsmen, just like Jake, Anthony’s best man, and Dom, who edged out Gene after they played for it in our competitive game of paintball on Saturday morning.

“God, I love my stupid brothers,” I say with a sigh.

Claire laughs. “I love them too. And we’re definitely joining forces to try to get my dad and Seamus to move here.”

“What if they moved in together?” Emma asks, a slight smile on her lips. “That would be amusing.”

“Hey, age-gap besties is nothing to laugh at,” I say, getting up, ditching the towel and hugging Joy. My best lady. My matron with the mostest.

“There is something invigorating about spending time with the young,” she agrees.

“That’s what my old boss said,” Emma interjects with a smirk.

Lainey bursts out laughing, spraying some of her whiskey.

“Not toward me, not toward me!” I shout.

She holds up a hand, laughing. “Sorry. So, I know this is Rosie’s big day, but Jake and I have some news too.” Her eyes shining, she says, “His brother has resurfaced.”

“No, shit,” Claire says, setting her whiskey glass down on the coffee table with a clack, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

She grins. “We found out last night, and you’d just gotten engaged, and—”

“I don’t care! Be better at gossip next time. So…what’s his deal? Where has he been for the last month and a half?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “I guess that’s what we’re about to find out. We’re taking the train to go see him tomorrow. He’s in Virginia.”

Emma rises from the settee. “As much as I care about this story about someone I don’t know, we have a job to do, ladies. Get up, Rosie. We’ll let you know if your dress is tucked into your panties.”

I already know it’s not, but I get up and can’t resist a little twirl. This dress…it makes me feel like a real princes. Princess Rosie. It has a gold sequined bodice and tulle skirts, and even Emma had to admit it seemed exactly like something I might choose. I can’t wait for Anthony to see me wearing it—and I also can’t wait to see him in his tux. Something tells me his collared shirt will be even finer than usual today, and I’m going to like looking at it almost as much as I’ll enjoy taking it off him.

“Gorgeous,” Joy says, capturing my face in her hands and kissing my cheek. “The movie star is going to enjoy peeling that off you.”

“I hope the snowplow driver will enjoy peeling that off you .” I give her a playful look.

“We’ll see,” she says, but I can tell she’s pleased. Claire, Lainey, and I helped her put curlers in her hair this morning, something she said she did before all of her dates with Mortimer.

The first strains of the bridal march filter into the room, and I feel my whole soul shake with excitement, my skin buzzing with it. I’m going to marry Anthony. He’s going to be my husband. It’s ridiculous, but the thought that comes to mind is at last.

“It’s time,” Emma says, giving me a smile. It’s not quite joyful, but I appreciate the gesture. I’ve already told her my story—all of it. I ending by saying that sometimes you have to go through shit to find an emerald. She responded that she doesn’t really want a shit-covered emerald, but I think that’s because she’s still in the shit-slog part of her journey.

I nod, and Lainey leaves the room. Then Emma. Then Claire. And then Joy hooks her arm through mine, and we leave the room together.

Did Declan want to walk me down the aisle?

Of course.

But Seamus did, too.

I could hardly choose between them, and it would have felt dumb to go with both of them. So I had decided to take Anthony’s suggestion and make the walk with Joy. Because Joy has been exactly that for me: pure joy. My friend and so much more.

We walk down the short hallway leading to the great room, passing between some elaborate flower displays that Mrs. Rosings must have gone to great trouble and expense to acquire, considering it’s the dead of winter.

The song is humming through me, and as we enter the room, I see a sea of faces waiting for me. Watching me. Crowds have never bothered me, though. I feel buoyed by them, carried on their shoulders. And while there is an abundance of people I don’t recognize, my focus is on the man waiting at the end of the aisle—my handsome fiancé. His beard is freshly trimmed and he’s dressed in a tuxedo that would make James Bond salivate from envy.

Better yet, he’s looking at me with awe, as if he can barely believe I exist.

“Movie star,” Joy whispers to me, mischief in her eyes as we move toward him.

When we reach the front of the aisle, she kisses my hand and then Anthony takes it, his eyes on mine—and it’s as if an electric current runs through me. “I love you,” he mouths.

And I mouth it back.

Mrs. Rosings, standing in front of us, clears her throat. She’s wearing a blush pink tunic dress threaded through with silver, and there’s something particularly regal about her posture. She smiles at us, then announces, “We’re here today to witness the marriage of my son Anthony Rosings Smith to this delightful young woman, Rosie James. Now, if you have any objections to their marriage, you can keep them to yourself, because the rest of us aren’t interested.”

Anthony’s mouth twitches, and I feel laughter trapped inside of my ribcage, knocking and asking to get out. There’s a tittering from the crowd.

“But my son tells me it’s standard to allow the bride and groom to speak, should they choose to do so, so take it away, Anthony.”

His lively gray eyes hold my gaze, his hand gripping mine. He always touches the ring when he holds my hand as if to assure himself it’s still there. “Rosie, when I first saw you, I thought you were an angel. You assured me that you were actually a devil. I think we were both right. Because I needed some excitement in my life, and I definitely needed your goodness. I needed you .”

Dammit, I feel my eyes watering, and he’s just made himself a hard act to follow.

Squeezing his hands, my eyes on him, I say, “You make every day feel like a bucket list. It’s like we’re always on an adventure. But you’re also much more grounded than I am, which is probably for the best for both of us. I’m the luckiest woman alive to be your swap-in bride.”

There’s some tittering from the audience, and I’m sure we’ll be the talk of the town for a few months, or until someone finds something more scandalous and fun to talk about.

“Well, there you go,” Mrs. Rosings says. “Let’s not fuss about. Anthony, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“You’d know a thing or two about that,” someone calls out—a man.

Mrs. Rosings’s gaze swivels to the audience. “Who said that?”

A woman in an extravagant hat points to the red-faced, large man next to her, and Seamus doesn’t hesitate—he leaves the front of the room and stalks back toward him. The guy gets up and pulls a runner before Seamus reaches him.

“Well, then, let’s get back to the question at hand. Do you, Anthony, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” he says.

She turns to me. “And do you, Rosie, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by the certificate it was much too easy to acquire, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Anthony grins at me, rightfully proud of himself, as the band breaks into “Time After Time.” Then he dips me in front of everyone and kisses me.

This isn’t a polite, we’re in front of everyone so let’s keep it brief kiss. It’s a kiss in which he tells me, in no uncertain terms, that I’m his wife—and I’m giving the message back. You’re my husband.

He breaks the kiss, then lifts me, but I stay on my tiptoes, wanting to keep close to his lips.

“First bucket list, complete,” he says.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be more. There’ll always be more.”

Because if I know anything, it’s that our life together is going to be one hell of an adventure.