Epilogue

Nadia

After I watered the pots of flowers all around, I wound the garden hose around its holder on the side of the cabin, then walked in my now not-as-velvety-gorgeous Birks to the trail.

I wasn't even close to the big house when I saw all the activity.

The white chairs being set out in rows. The thick swags made of deep red and orange roses being hung from the railings of our deck. More being draped around the large white tent that had been erected on the other side of the drive.

I was glad I didn't have to do all that work.

And I was thrilled the weather was going to cooperate.

I walked under the arbor, which, with Brenda's assistance, since they were planted last year, I had managed to coax the peach roses to grow, and we trained them around Rigg's delicate scrollwork, so now they were nearly up to the curves of the arch.

And they were blooming profusely.

I was inside, had flipped off my Birks, and was at the kitchen sink washing my hands when Riggs walked in.

I dried my hands and called, "Hey, baby."

He didn't respond, unless coming to me, fitting himself to my back and shuffling me out of the kitchen, murmuring in my ear, "Time to get ready," could be considered a response to a greeting.

It actually wasn't time. It was early.

But today was a day of romance.

So I allowed my man to take me to our bed. I also allowed him to take off my sundress and panties. And I watched as he lifted both arms to put his hands between his shoulder blades to tug off his tee.

But I helped him with his jeans.

We had time, so we took our time going over old ground that somehow always seemed new.

Riggs had a thing for getting his mouth between my legs (truth told, I had a thing for it too, and mine was a bigger one than his, I was sure).

I also had a thing for getting him in my mouth (ditto with me suspecting that was bigger for him than me).

And when we were ready, Riggs covered me, our mouths connected, our hands exploring, my legs curving around his thighs, and he slid inside me.

It was unhurried, and gentle, until Riggs slipped a hand between us, I put a hand against our headboard to hold myself steady, and it was not.

We didn't come simultaneously, but I wasn't fully down from mine before Riggs found his.

It was perfect, as ever.

And it was perfect for this day especially.

I wasat the vanity in our massive bathroom, getting ready, and it had occurred to me before.

But that day, of all days, it hit me.

Hard.

Riggs had shared, like the rest of the house, he'd updated that bathroom, but he hadn't deviated much from the layout. He had no need for a rather dramatic vanity area where a woman could sit, do her hair and makeup, and have everything, even her jewelry, at hand (yes, it had this much storage, and the jewelry drawers had locks, so Mom's jewelry was safe).

Considering he never thought he'd find a woman to call his own, he'd shared he'd done it the way he had for resale value.

But I was thrilled he had, seeing as I could use it.

Though, it wasn't lost on me that Sarah had sat there, in a bathroom Lincoln had designed, able to pamper herself in the way both her husbands wanted her to have.

Lavishly.

Riggs walked in looking delectable in exceptionally cut, midnight-blue dress trousers and a beautifully tailored shirt that was one shade lighter, his hair drying, but still wet and curling around his ears and neck.

His eyes seemed to sparkle white gold in that shirt.

Seriously.

"Ready to be dazzled?" he asked.

I already was.

"Always."

"Strut your stuff, kid," he called.

And in came Ledger, followed by Gia and our cat, Sheba (Ledger named her, and picked her, but Gia claimed her, so Ledger had taught our dog to cart our cat around with all four of her paws dangling from the sides of Gia's thick neck, which is how Gia carted her into where we made camp when we went camping two weekends ago—my first time, also, my last (outside-bathroom-going was not my thing, in future that could be Riggs Boys' Time)).

Ledger then struck a variety of poses in his mini-me suit that was midnight blue, like his dad's, with a one-shade-lighter dress shirt, but he was wearing the jacket.

I slapped my hand on my chest over my robe and cried, "Be still my heart!"

"Such a goof," Ledger replied, but he was grinning ear to ear.

I stopped messing around and gave the suit a critical eye. "Fits perfectly."

"I look hot," Ledger pronounced. "But this monkey suit is uncomfortable."

"You can take off the jacket after the ceremony," Riggs told him.

"Cool," Ledger replied.

"Now, vamoose. Nadia has to finish getting ready. She's running late." Riggs turned to me. "The guests are arriving."

"Shoot!" I exclaimed and whirled back to the vanity.

Both Riggs boys left, but one of them came to me to give me a kiss on the side of my neck before he did (just in case there were questions, it was the taller one).

I finished with my makeup and hair, then I went into the walk-in (an extraordinary room that Riggs did up big also "for resale," but Lincoln had given Sarah, even before it was the "it" thing in houses) and went to my dress.

It was a lot. Too much for an outdoors gig in the mountains.

But I was me. A city girl. And I'd learned in the past year it was amazing living in the woods by a lake, but I had to be me.

I put on my dress, my heels, then went back to my vanity to add my jewelry.

And that day, I brought Mom with me.

After that, I went down to greet the guests.

Riggsand I were sitting beside each other on our white chairs, Ledger on my other side (Harry on his other side), when Riggs leaned into my ear and murmured, "Good I fucked you and shot a heavy load before I saw you in that dress, or we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

I turned to him, slapped his arm, and hissed under my breath, "Stop it, Riggs."

He grinned, wide, white and unrepentantly at me.

He then slung an arm, now encased in his suit jacket, around my shoulders.

I'd gone for a family matching look, so my dress was a sheer chiffon (with a matching underlay) in midnight blue, with big, yellow and red flowers and green leaves emblazoned on it. It had a long, tiered skirt that dusted the ground. It had sleeves that were straight, but from a seam around the elbows, blossomed out fuller and were gathered at the wrists. It had tiny, fabric-covered buttons from where the vee neckline plunged to my midriff down to the first tier of the skirt. But the collar had a long, wide scarf attached that I wound round and around, and tied in a big jaunty bow at the side of my neck.

I wore my hair up in a complicated twist full of curls, because…obviously.

The dirt and gravel weren't easy to navigate in my strappy, green, high-heeled sandals, but once I hit the floor put down in the tent, I'd be good.

Regardless of Riggs being such a man, I was pleased.

It looked like we three belonged together.

Because we did.

"I hope they have Pbr in that fancy-assed tent, 'cause I don't do sissy beer."

This came at us from behind, and Riggs and I turned to look over our shoulders as Bubbles leaned toward us.

I aimed my gaze at Lucille beside him.

She rolled her eyes, appearing as she was.

Longsuffering.

"I got some in the workshop so you won't go wanting," Riggs assured him.

Bubbles adjusted his tie like he wanted to tear it off, grunted, "You da man," (yes, he actually said you da man) and sat back.

I shook my head at Bubbles.

He tossed his arm around Lucille and winked at me.

The congregation seemed to be stirring, so we paid attention and watched a line of men come from the back of the house and down the stairs at the side of the deck to stand in line to one side of the outside-of-the-roses-no-other-décor arbor.

The wedding procession started not long after, the women coming from the front door of the house.

Kennedy did great, until she was walking down the white sheet laid down the center aisle, and she turned and saw Harry, Ledger, Riggs and me.

It was then, she started silently crying, and when she made it to the front, her brother's concerned eyes stayed glued to her, and they were red-rimmed.

Her other brother was not there. We'd been told he'd been doing some soul-searching, and he wanted to be there, he just wasn't ready to come back to the lake (and we didn't share this, but Riggs and I weren't ready to have him there, either).

They'd been taught by their parents to love and forgive, and definitely move on, so this was understood by the other two siblings, and it had been shared with us, there were no hard feelings.

Things went on the upswing when the gorgeous bride showed her face, radiant and happy, and showed off her gown, which was amazing.

We stood as she walked to her very soon-to-be husband, her face shining, her smile bright as the sun.

Then we sat and watched Truman Whitaker marry the woman he loved surrounded by peach roses, woods and a tranquil lake.

And another happy memory was created to soak into the soil and feed the pine trees, which I could swear, rustled joyfully, stirred by a peaceful breeze, as a beaming Tru and his luminous bride hustled back up the aisle through a jubilant cheer and under a hail of gently falling peach rose petals.

The End

There will be more mysteries from Misted Pines…