Page 168 of Seale the Deal

I swear, forever isn’t long enough with you, he says. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you didn’t make a mistake marrying me.

I let out a shaky laugh, brushing at my tears. You could never be a mistake. Ruger, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You showed me what real love is supposed to feel like. I can only hope that I can give you the same in return.

His eyes shine, wet but unashamed.

He pulls me on top of him, crushing me to his chest, his lips in my hair, his arms banded around me like he’ll never let go.

God, I love you, he breathes so fiercely it rattles through me.

I love you too, I whisper, letting the truth settle over me like the softest blanket. Because I do. I love him more than I ever thought I could love anyone.

We lie there tangled up, hearts racing down into the same steady rhythm. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up married, and with any luck, the day will be spent right here in this bed. The day after that, we’ll start figuring the rest out.

But tonight, none of that matters. Tonight, I have him.

And he has me.

Epilogue

Wrenley

DAYS SINCE WEDDING: 385

The sudden whir of my husband’s chainsaw sends our newest family member, a ten-month-old basset hound named Mathilda, barrelling straight into me. She crashes against my legs like a bowling ball in a fur coat, and I crouch down to steady her.

Ruger was all for getting a dog at first. But once Mathilda proved she only sleeps wedged between us, snoring directly in his ear, he’d been less than enthusiastic. Still, I catch him on the couch with her all the time. Her body is curled up against his, watching true crime documentaries. He’s pointing at the screen like she’s his little conservation officer in training. For a man who swore he didn’t want another responsibility, he’s ridiculously smitten.

So am I.

She’s a symbol of everything we’ve built this past year. The wedding was surprisingly the easy part. Endless paperwork and my nerve-racking interview were the true gauntlet. I studied harder for that interview than I ever did in high school or university. Now, all we can do is wait.

When the saw cuts off, I walk toward Ruger, brushing at my vest. What are you doing?

Remi’s late, he says, shrugging as he positions the chainsaw against another tree. Might as well get some more woodcutting in.

Of course. My husband doesn’t understand the concept of standing still. If he isn’t working, he’s twitchy. I love that about him, but it also means I miss him, even when he’s right here.

She’ll be here soon.

Remi’s been gone for weeks, bouncing between Juneau and Ketchikan while the Netflix adaptation of her book was being filmed. She just got back yesterday, and Ruger decided the proper welcome home was a shooting competition. According to him, fame can’t be allowed to inflate her ego, and nothing grounds his twin like losing to him.

Which leaves me smack in the middle of another Seale sibling rivalry.

I wouldn’t trade it.

Mathilda flops onto my boots with a dramatic sigh as the growl of a motor reaches us. I perk up instantly, bouncing like a kid spotting the Disneyland gates when Remi pulls into view on her ATV.

She barely has time to cut the engine before I fling myself at her. You’re here!

She staggers under my hug, laughing. Missed you too.

Mathilda shoves her droopy face into the reunion, tail wagging like a windshield wiper on high.

Remi coos, Oh, there’s my real favourite Seale, scratching behind her ears. Then she smirks at Ruger. Well, at least for now.

Ruger and I exchange a look. For now?

Remi goes to the back of her ATV. There’s a reason I’m late. I forgot your present.