Page 204 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

She kisses me back—sure and unafraid—and the guests cheer, and the wind kicks up, and somewhere behind us I hear Evan whoop like he just won the World Series.

But I barely register it.

Because all I can think is—they can try.

The world can try to intrude, to pry, to demand, to take.

They can bring cameras and headlines and offers and opinions.

They can whisper that I don’t deserve her, that she’ll get bored, that she’ll go back to the lights and the city and the easy life.

They can dare.

Because there isn’t a mountain high enough.

Not a storm violent enough.

Not a spotlight bright enough.

Not a damn thing in this world that’s going to keep me away from my wife.

I kiss her again—claiming, certain, unashamed.

And in my mind, I say it like a promise to the entire universe.

Try. I dare ya.

I’ll climb anything. I’ll fight anything.

Because this little city slicker came to my mountain once.

And now?

Now I’m the man who will cross every distance to keep choosing her back.

Epilogue 2: Kelly

I can’t believe this.

I’m sitting at a wedding on a damn mountain—twinkle lights, fresh air, enough romance in the air to make you gag—and somehow I’m not crying. Not right now, anyway.

Because I’ve had my fill of tears.

Evan is spending the night with his paternal grandparents, and thank God for that.

Unlike Mike Stevens—my ex piece of shit husband, officially, as of forty-seven minutes ago—his parents aren’t lying, cheating, pencil-dicked weasels.

They love their grandson. They show up. They pack him extra snacks and make sure his favorite pajamas make it into the overnight bag.

So yes. They get to see him.

Mike hasn’t asked for visitation.

Not once.

Apparently Stormee doesn’t “do kids,” which makes sense, considering she practically is one.

Twenty-something and smug and probably still calls her mother to ask how long to microwave ramen.