Page 46 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)

One Year Later — Nashville & Milwaukee — Ariana

T he thing about marrying your high school sweetheart in a haze of Vegas lights and tequila is that it should be the end of the story.

But with Christopher Wentworth?

It was just the beginning.

The tabloid headlines had faded. People moved on. Some still called it a publicity stunt. But when we filed for a real marriage license, no one could deny it anymore—we meant it.

We split our time now—Milwaukee for me, Nashville for him. I kept my job. He kept his band. We share a place in each city and a constantly updated shared calendar that includes things like “virtual court date @ 2” and “album drop party.”

We’re not perfect. But we show up. Every time.

Even when it's messy. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it matters.

Like now.

Because right now, I’m sitting on the deck of Luke Knightley’s giant house in Nashville, drinking lemonade and watching Meg cradle a tiny baby bump while Jeremy hovers nearby like she might sneeze and the baby will fall out.

“You’re not fragile,” I tell her.

“Tell him that,” she mutters, shooting her husband a look.

“She walked into the kitchen barefoot yesterday,” Jeremy says. “I almost called 911.”

“You almost passed out,” Meg corrects.

Christopher grins beside me. “Can’t wait to see what you’re like in the delivery room.”

Jeremy blanches.

Meg smirks. “He’ll faint. I’ve accepted it.”

We’re interrupted by the sound of a champagne cork popping and Ellie squealing as Luke lifts her hand in the air, flashing a very sparkly diamond to the table.

“We’re engaged!” she announced, beaming.

There’s clapping. There’s shouting. Meg almost spills her ginger ale. Jeremy hugs Luke so hard it looks painful.

I just sit there and smile.

Because I already had my chaos. My elopement. My second chance.

And now, I have him.

Christopher pulls me closer, kissing my temple. “You okay?” he murmurs.

I nod. “Better than okay.”

“Still married.”

“Still want to be,” I say.

He grins. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

I smile back and my hand slides into his. I glance down to see the obnoxious ring he bought me after I decided to stay. It’s nicer than the original, but I still keep that in my jewelry box too because I’m sentimental like that.

It’s been a year since Vegas. A year since I stopped running. And in that time, I’ve learned that home isn’t a city. It’s not a job. It’s not a plan that works on paper.

It’s a person. My person. Still mine. Finally mine.

Forever.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Ariana and Christopher’s story. It’s the final book in the Austen Hunks trilogy. If you’d like to read more of my contemporary romance, click here for The Honeycrisp Orchard Inn .