Page 253 of Wild Then Wed
“You trying to kill me?” I murmur.
She smiles, a little smug. “Maybe.”
And right there—half tangled in sheets, a baby monitor glowing blue across the room, her breath warm against my mouth—I feel the rush of it all again. Not exhaustion. Not grief. Just love.
Messy. Full. Real.
I look at her, really look at her. Hair messy, eyes still soft with sleep, that little crease between her brows she gets when she’s trying not to smile too big.
“Marry me,” I say.
Her forehead wrinkles. “Last time I checked, we already are.”
I shake my head, brushing her hair back again, letting my fingers linger behind her ear. “No. I mean for real this time. Not because of some water rights. But because I love you. Because I love our life. Because I want to stand up in front of the people who’ve watched us figure this out and say I’d choose you again, even if none of it was required.”
She goes still, her eyes locked on mine.
“I want it to be small,” I go on. “Just us and the people who really matter. Something simple. On the ranch. Outside, under those cottonwoods you love so much. No fancy dresses or over-the-top speeches. Just vows and you and cake and Ruthie.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink.
I take a breath, my thumb brushing her cheek. “Will you marry me, Wren Margaret Wilding? Really marry me this time?”
Her mouth twitches, then curves—slow and wide and a little stunned.
“You’re asking me to actually change my last name?” she says, her eyes glassy.
I smile. “Only if you want to. But yeah. Thought maybe we could all share one.”
She laughs and her hand slides up the back of my neck and pulls me down until our foreheads touch, her eyes still locked on mine.
She smiles—soft, full of history and hope—and says, “Then yeah. Let’s do this for real.”
And then she kisses me like it’s not even a question. Like it never really was.
She curls into me afterward, her leg tangled over mine, her cheek pressed against my chest. The baby monitor hums quietly beside us, flickering to life now and then when Ruthie shifts in her crib. And still, neither of us moves. We just lie there—married, but somehow brand new again.
I thread my fingers through her hair and think about the version of me that stood in this house five years ago, staring at lavender walls and locking the door, convinced love like this was behind me. That version of me wouldn’t recognize the life we’ve built. Wouldn’t believe how full it could feel after so much loss.
But this is what came after. And it’s better than anything I could’ve planned for.
A wife who makes me laugh when I’m too tired to think straight. A daughter who fits in the crook of my arm. A life that’s messy and beautiful in all the right ways.
I hold Wren a little tighter, press a kiss to the top of her head, and whisper, “Thank you for saying yes.”
Even half-asleep, she smiles against my skin. “Always.”
Chapter 44
WREN
EPILOGUE
TWO YEARS LATER
It’s the Fourth of July, which also means it’s Ridge’s birthday and Sage’s is tomorrow, so we’ve lumped it all into one big celebration-slash-family cookout. We’re hosting this year. I wasn’t sure how it would go—our yard isn’t as big as Boone and Lark’s, and Sawyer’s been working more than sleeping lately—but somehow it all came together. I think it always does when you let the people you love show up and fill in the blanks.
Right now I’m tucked away in my studio—what used to be just for art but has slowly turned into something closer to an office, with a small desk in the corner and a drawer full of Ruthie’s scribbled masterpieces. The window’s cracked open to the sound of country music and laughter floating in from the yard while I’ve been finishing a letter.
