Page 243 of That Rush

The romance novels on my shelves always end before this part—before the negotiation over work nights, quiet hours, and whose family ate the last cupcake. Real life has locked doors and uncomfortable conversations. It has the risk of losing someone I know I could survive without, but never, ever want to.

Aiden’s mouth closes over mine as I pull him closer. Real life is messier than fiction, hotter too, and so much better.

Epilogue

Paige

Ihave forty-three minutes until I marry Aiden Slade, and I am spending them exactly as I requested: alone with a book.

The private-library door is closed and locked. Beyond it, chairs scrape across the porch while our small wedding means every chair gets rearranged at least twice. Hudson has offered three opinions about their placement. Deven has rejected all three. Adrienne is probably preventing her father from creating a seating chart no one asked for.

No one has knocked.

I sit in the window seat in my robe, one bare foot tucked beneath me, and finish the chapter I started this morning. The mountains stretch beyond the glass, green and bright beneath the June sun. My dress hangs from the back of the door. My bouquet waits in a jar on the desk beside the marriage license, a tube of lipstick, and the cabin key I still carry.

Most nights, I sleep in the foreman’s house now. My books have spread into Aiden’s bedroom, the living room, and every other place Aiden once believed did not need a bookshelf. The cabin remains mine. The key stays on my ring. Some Fridays we go there, and sometimes I go alone.

I still work at the library. The new summer-reading flyers stacked beside my desk say PAIGE WHITAKER, CHILDREN’S LIBRARIAN. They will say the same thing next month and next year.

Aiden has never asked me to change it.

We spent months talking about marriage before he asked, including my name, my work, the cabin, our money, Josie, and how many nights a week one man can reasonably expect me to share a bathroom with him. Then he asked on a Friday night at my cabin, after dinner and before I beat him at Scrabble. He had a ring, a question, and enough restraint to wait while I stared at him until he looked genuinely nervous.

I said yes because I wanted the marriage, the mornings, the hard conversations, the filthy promises, and every ordinary Friday that came with him.

The last page ends with a declaration, a kiss, and a sentence about forever. Efficient. Real forever apparently requires a license, two dozen chairs, emergency safety pins, and Hudson being told to stop moving the flowers.

I close the book, smiling, and place it on the cushion.

The robe slips from my shoulders. I step into the ivory dress and pull up the hidden zipper at my side, careful of the row of small buttons down the back. My hair is already pinned loosely at my nape, and the lipstick takes less than a minute.

When I face the mirror beside the shelves, I recognize the woman looking back.

Marriage feels like another part of the life I selected. I chose the dress. I chose Friday. I chose the porch, the small guest list, and the man waiting outside without checking whether I am ready yet.

Through the window, I catch Aiden crossing the porch in the dark suit he refused to let me see. He looks toward the locked door but does not approach it. He returns to his place near the railing, one hand in his pocket, and waits because I asked him to.

My pulse jumps anyway.

I slide my feet into my shoes, take one last look at the shelves, and unlock the door.

Josie stands on the porch in a pale pink dress, holding a small silver locket in both hands. A tiny photograph of Krista rests inside it.

Josie’s fingers close protectively around the locket.

“Grandma helped me put the picture inside.” She holds the open locket out for me to see. “It’s Mom when she was younger.”

Krista is smiling at the camera, her head tipped slightly and sunlight catching in her hair. Josie has her eyes. I see it in Josie every day, but the resemblance is sharper in this tiny photograph.

“That’s a beautiful way to make sure she’s here.”

“I’m going to wear it.” She lifts the chain. “So Mom gets to be here too.”

“Of course she does.”

Josie turns around and gathers her hair with both hands. I fasten the clasp at the back of her neck, then straighten the locket against her dress. She presses her palm over it and smiles.

“Dad said I could walk with you.”