Page 62 of Weather the Storm

We go back and forth a few more times before he finally relents and presses his lips to mine. Our tongues tangle together, and even though we still have a long road ahead of us, victory has never tasted sweeter.

Epilogue

SIMON

While Magnolia’s physical recovery was fairly cut and dry, her emotional and mental recoveries have been a bit of a longer journey. Thankfully, for the past year and a half, we’ve both been doing weekly therapy sessions, individually and as a couple. The progress she’s made is nothing short of amazing.

Speaking of progress, let me tell you, I’ve never been prouder of my girl than when she stood in front of that courtroom, her ex-husband seated in front of her—that’s right,ex-husband—and read her victim impact statement at his sentencing with her shoulders back and her head held high.

Grant was initially charged with stalking, kidnapping, attempted murder, aggravated assault, and violation of a protection order, but the prosecutor offered him a plea deal, and lucky us, he was smart enough to take it. Now, that sorry sack of shit will spend the next twenty-five years behind a concrete wall, staring through barred windows.

Another small mercy was the judge issuing a no-contact order, meaning my girl doesn’t have to worry about Grant’s psycho ass writing her letters or trying to call her from prison.

Shockingly, Grant didn’t fight her on the divorce. I’m not sure if it’s because he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on or if he had some crisis of conscience, but when he was served the papers, he signed without a fight.

Magnolia was so happy she cried, and let me tell you, the second the ink on those papers was dry, I had a ring on her finger.

I proposed to her on a lazy spring Sunday. We’d been doing a whole lot of nothing that day, but for some reason, it just felt right. She was standing in the kitchen, waiting on a bag of popcorn to pop between Netflix binges, and I just felt this undeniable pull, knew I couldn’t wait a second longer.

I dashed off to our room and grabbed the little velvet box out of my nightstand then ran back into the kitchen, dropping to one knee just as the microwave dinged.

I’ll never forget the way Magnolia’s eyes welled with tears and she blurted out, “YES!” before I even got a word out then tackled me to the floor. We made love right then and there, and afterward, naked as the day we were born, we sat down and planned our wedding.

Neither of us wanted anything elaborate, so as soon as the sixty-day waiting period for her divorce was over, we exchanged vows on my back deck in front of our friends as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Neither of us is naive enough to think life will always be smooth sailing from here on out, but what we do know is that as long as we’re together, we can always weather the storm.

THE END

Extended Epilogue

Five Years Later

MAGNOLIA

“Willow,” I holler, ambling through the house looking for our daughter. Today’s her fourth Gotcha Day, and the crew’s all coming over to celebrate. Simon and I decided to adopt about a year after we tied the knot, and we both agreed that we wanted to do it through CPS.

Willow was two when she was placed with us, and it’s a day I’ll never forget. From the moment I saw her, I just knew I was meant to be her mother. She toddled over to where I was crouched, looking just as nervous as I felt.

For a moment, we just stared at one another—her big brown eyes melting into my blue ones—then, gingerly, she reached out and laid her pudgy little hand on my cheek. That was it—game over. She was the sweetest thing either of us had ever seen, and from that moment on, Willow had our hearts in the palm of her hand.

Now she’s a bossy, opinionated six-year-old who loves to sneak off and get into trouble with her best friend.Lord, I hope she grows out of this.“Willow Grace McAllister! Where are you hiding?” My question is met with the sound of muffled giggles.

Pausing outside the laundry room, I press my ear to the door and listen. “Shh, Brody,” my little girl says. “My mama’s gonna find us if you don’t hush up.”

“I’m only laughin’ ’cause you got chocolate all over your face!” Brody fires back loudly, causing them both to start giggling all over again.

I push the door open, yelling, “Gotcha!” and they both scream. “Shame on y’all for getting into the cookies before dinner. Go wash up.”

Brody has the decency to look ashamed. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Magnolia. I’m real sorry. It’s just that your chocolate chip cookies are my most favorite. They’re even better than my mama’s.” His eyes get comically wide at his admission, and he rushes to add, “But please don’t tell her I said that!”

Shaking my head, I can’t help but smile. Brody’s almost eight months older than Willow, but she leads that boy around like he’s a puppy. It’s quite amusing.

“Okay, Brody, I won’t tell your mamaifyou and Willow fill all them holes y’all dug in my garden tomorrow.”

He huffs out a dejected breath. “Yes, Mrs. Magnolia.”

I smile and ruffle both of their heads before continuing out to the back deck. I head straight for Simon and settle down onto the arm of his chair. He presses his lips to my neck and murmurs against my skin, “Ten bucks says Myla Rose is gonna tell us she’s pregnant again.”

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