Page 102 of Wildflower and Whiskey

“I was thinking autumn. After harvest. When the leaves turn gold.”

“An orchard wedding,” I said, picturing it: tables under the trees, lanterns strung through branches, the smell of apples and sugar in the air. “I love it.”

He nodded toward the horizon. “It’ll be the end of the season and the beginning of ours.”

Braden crawled into his lap and tugged at his shirt until Phoenix looked down. “Daddy!” he shouted, proud of himself.

Phoenix’s smile went soft. “You heard him. Our officiant just agreed.”

I laughed so hard tears blurred the valley. “You’d better get him a tiny suit.”

“He’ll steal the show,” Phoenix said. “But I can live with that.”

When the sun began to dip, we packed up the basket. Phoenix took my hand for the walk back through the orchard. Braden was waddling beside us, his little hand in Phoenix’s big one. The wind rustled the branches, scattering a few blossoms that caught in my hair.

“Remember the first night you stayed here?” he asked.

“How could I forget?”

“And you still said yes.”

“I didn’t say yes to you that night,” I teased.

He leaned closer, voice rough with affection. “You did. You just didn’t know it yet.”

We reached the porch of our home. He kissed my temple, then brushed his thumb across the new ring glinting in the light.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife, Wildflower.”

“I can’t wait to call you husband.”

That night, after Braden drifted to sleep, I stood at the window watching the orchard glow under the moonlight. The ring caught the light, scattering tiny sparks across the glass. Phoenix came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You thinking about the wedding?”

“That too. I was thinking about how far we’ve come.”

He kissed the side of my neck. “You realize this means you’re stuck with me forever.”

I smiled. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Outside, the wind moved through the branches, carrying the soft scent of new blooms and damp earth. Inside, the world had narrowed to the warmth of his chest at my back, his hand tangled with mine beneath the quilt. Phoenix’s heartbeat thudded steady against my spine, a rhythm I’d come to trust more than anything. I turned to face him, tracing the line of his jaw, the faint smile that always came when I did. His eyes caught the moonlight, calm and certain.

“This feels unreal,” I whispered. He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “It’s real, Wildflower. You, me, Braden, this life we’re building. I’m never letting it go.”

His mouth found mine, slow and sure, a kiss that carried every promise he’d ever made without needing words. The kind of kiss that said home wasn’t walls or an address, it was a person. It was him. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you more,” I whispered.

Outside, the orchard swayed under the first full bloom of spring, petals falling like quiet confetti against the windows. Inside, his heartbeat anchored me, steady and sure. We’d walked through fear, through loss, through the dark. But here, in the soft hum of our home, we’d found what mattered most; a love that stayed, a love that would grow more each day. Spring returned to Maple Valley, and with it came the promise that every season, from here on out, we’d face together. Because this right here wasn’t the beginning of our story. It was the life we’d waited our whole lives to find.