Page 74 of Marry Me Tomorrow
The weight of her words crashes over me, filling every crack in my heart. I pretend to tear up a sheet of paper and blow the pieces into the wind. “There, the agreement’s done, gone, vanished into thin air, no more.”
I kneel down and take her hands in mine. “Jenny, my beautiful, sweet, wonderful wife, I know you already married me. But I ask you now here in the spot where I first asked you to marry me, will you marry me again, today, marry me tomorrow, every day for the rest of our life?”
Yes,” she breathes, her voice breaking into a smile. “Yes, Trent. Forever.”
“Then I vow here and now to be the best real husband, with no end date, to you that you will ever have,” I say.
“And I vow also here and now to be the best real wife, with no end date, to you that you will ever have,” Jenny says.
“Then by the power vested in us, since this gazebo and marina is ours, I hereby declare us real husband and wife, with no end date.”
“We may now kiss each other,” Jenny says.
When I kiss her, the world stops, leaving only the two of us in the warm embrace of the gazebo. The future stretches before us, infinite and filled with promise. With this kiss I let all my love and devotion to her shine through, letting her know that she is and will always be loved to the end of our days and beyond.
Epilogue: Jenny
The last five months have been the best of my life. Trent and I have worked tirelessly to rebuild our home, pouring ourselves into every detail. We were able to create the perfect balance—keeping the original feel of the home while carving out a space that is wholly and truly ours.
We expanded the master bedroom and relocated it so it now overlooks the gorgeous expanse of the lake. The loft space still gives the cabin an open, airy feel, and now that I am most definitely not occupying a guest room, the spare rooms are ready to welcome our family and friends once more.
And now, standing here, surrounded by those same loved ones, it all feels so real. So complete.
Our home.
The cabin is filled with warmth—both from the crackling fire in the stone fireplace and the laughter of family and friends gathered throughout the space. The scent of cedar and pine lingers in the air, mingling with the aroma of Maureen’s mouthwatering apple pie, fresh out of the oven. The lake outside glows under the moonlight, a soft breeze drifting through the open windows.
“This place is incredible,” Niall says, whistling as he glances around. “You two really outdid yourselves.”
“Seriously,” Gwen agrees, sipping from her wine glass. “It’s cozy but still open, warm but not cluttered. I’m impressed.”
“It helped,” Trent says, “that we had a vision of what we wanted the place to feel like.” He wraps an arm around my waist. “And that we refused to stop until we made it happen.”
“And don’t forget the art studio,” Holly adds, nudging me. “That’s what I can’t wait to see.”
My heart swells at the mention of it. “They just finished it Tuesday,” I say, barely containing my excitement. “It’s a little one-room cabin, tucked just far enough away to give me space to create. It’s got a big sink for all my brushes, lots of storage space for my supplies, and shelves for my paintings.”
“And it’s all yours,” Holly murmurs, a knowing smile on her face. “I love that for you.”
Greg grins. “I don’t know, Trent. First, you set up an art gallery for her, then you built her an entire studio, and now you’ve got this perfect lake house. You’re setting the bar a little high for the rest of us, man.”
Trent chuckles. “I figure if I make her happy, she might just keep me around.”
I roll my eyes, but my smile gives me away. Being married to Trent—without any looming agreements or end dates—has been liberating. We both finally feel free to express our love to each other in any way we see fit. We kiss more often, hold hands without second-guessing, and share little touches throughout the day. The nights of forced isolation behind the fortress of pillows are long gone, replaced by quiet, intimate moments that fill the space between us with warmth.
The conversation of the evening flows effortlessly, shifting between talk of the finished renovations, family, and upcoming plans. The atmosphere is light and joyous. But beneath it all, a quiet anticipation hums in my chest.
Grandpa Henry gives me a calculating look. I just smile before glancing at Trent. He catches my eye, as if reading my thoughts, and gives me a small nod.
I take a deep breath, then clear my throat. “Trent and I have some news to share,” I announce, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.
Niall leans forward. “Don’t tell me Trent is building you something else,” he teases.
“No,” I say, smiling, “but you could say I’m building him something.”
I turn toward Maureen, unable to hold back my grin any longer.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she says.
