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Grandpa shuffled along, and before someone else could chat with me, Mags got up on her tiptoes and said, “Come to the bedroom. I have a gift for you.”

“Anything including the bedroom and you, I’m in,” I said, winking after.

Laughing, she shoved me playfully and said, “I’ll see you there.”

She excused herself from everyone, saying she had to use the restroom, and a few minutes later, I walked up the back steps and into our home. The build had taken eight months, and we both agreed we wanted to get married in the backyard when it was ready.

This home had been the perfect mix of what we both wanted. A wraparound porch, bay windows to sit in and enjoy the pretty countryside. We had a big open kitchen with room for a long table because we knew family would always be welcome here.

But my favorite place was our bedroom. It had room for a king-sized bed, a corner with chairs so we could sit together and watch the sunrise at the east-facing window, and a massive bathroom and closet—which Maggie had already claimed as mostly her own.

When I walked into the room, I found her looking out the window at all our guests below. She turned when she heard my footsteps on the carpet and gave me a soft smile.

I said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re beautiful.”

Her smile grew. “When I saw you standing at the end of the aisle, I thought, how lucky am I to get to see his face for the rest of my life.”

My lips lifted of their own accord. “So I was told there would be a present up here.”

“There is.” She walked to my nightstand, by the bed where we’d sleep for the first night tonight as man and wife. She picked up a ream of paper with plastic coiling holding it together.

“What’s this?” I asked as she walked it to me, her dress sliding over the floor with her steps.

“It’s the story of us.”

I looked from the pages to her tentative expression. “I didn’t know you wrote.”

“I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. But that night we were at The Retreat, you said you’d read the story of us. And one night when I couldn’t sleep, I just started writing. The first thing that came to mind when I sat down to write was the day we met.” She smiled down at the pages. “You sat by me in the lunchroom, and when I said, ‘That seat’s saved,’ you replied, ‘No need to save it anymore. I’m already here.’”

I chuckled at my teen bravado. I’d been so nervous to talk to her back then. “Well how does it end?” I asked.

“Well, at the pool, you said it could end with hot tub sex, but...” She held the book to me. “I hope our story doesn’t end, so the last words are... Hello, Happily Ever After.”

EPILOGUE

AGATHA

Deidre let outa sigh as she fussed over the table of taco fixings. The bride and groom had decided to have a taco bar, and I agreed to help her with it after the ceremony. “Of course Rhett and Maggie would sneak off after the ceremony while we’re all waiting to celebrate with them!”

I chuckled. I’d never had a wedding day of my own, but I hoped I would be as in love as Rhett and Maggie looked if I ever did walk the aisle. But then again, as a woman in my mid-forties, I doubted it would ever happen to me. And I was okay with that. I had a good life—the kids were grown and gone, so I had a little extra money in the bank. I liked my job waiting tables at Woody’s Diner. It could be so much worse. Had been, in the past.

“Aggie?” Deidre said.

I turned my head. “Sorry, what did I miss?” Sometimes I got lost thinking and didn’t remember to pay attention to what was in front of me.

She smiled at me. “I said I need to go check on the catering. Would you mind telling Rhett and Maggie to speed it up?”

I chuckled. “Sure thing.”

That seemed like a bad idea though as I walked into their pretty house. There were nice wood floors on the main level, and they had new looking furniture and pictures of them and their families hanging on the walls. It was so much nicer than the little house I lived in with its constant drips and leaks and settling foundation. It used to be my mama’s. The same house I grew up in, and probably the house I’d die in if I was being honest.

I checked around the kitchen and the living rooms, but when I didn’t see them, I started upstairs. Except a few stairs up, I saw someone already walking up in a suit.

“Is that you, Rhett?” I asked. I couldn’t really tell in the dim lighting.

But the man who turned around was Grayson Madigan.

My heart instantly started beating faster. This man was the definition of a silver fox. Still fit from work on the farm, with a warm, friendly smile and a thick head of gray hair. He said, “Sorry, Jack sent me inside to look for Maggie and Rhett.”