“I love you. I know it’s fast. I know I’m probably insane. But I’ve been in love with you since you smiled at me outside the tourist center. Since I carried you down that trail and realized I’d do anything to keep you breathing. I love your laugh, and adore the way you light up when you’re behind that camera. I love all of it. I loveyou.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, but they’re the happy kind. I cup his face with both hands and kiss him, slow and deep and full of everything I’m feeling.
“I love you too, you ridiculous, wonderful man,” I murmur against his lips. “Even when you threaten to tie me to the bed.”
He laughs, the sound warm and relieved, and pulls me down onto the couch with him, wrapping me up in his strong arms.
“Good,” he says, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my tear-damp lashes. “Because I wasn’t actually going to let you leave. I was just hoping you’d choose to stay.”
I smack his chest lightly, laughing. “Over-the-top caveman.”
“Your over-the-top caveman.”
“Mine,” I agree, heart so full it feels like it might burst.
And just like that, I know I’m home.
Epilogue
Clover
Five Years Later
The summer bonfire crackles warmly in the clearing behind our cabin, casting a golden glow across the mountain night. I’m tucked perfectly between Simon’s legs, my back against his broad chest as his arms wrap around me. His chin rests on top of my head, and every now and then he presses a soft kiss into my hair. Five years later, and his touch still makes my heart flutter like it did that first day on the trail.
I glance across the fire to where Meg sits curled against Roman. She looks every bit the sunshine girl she’s always been, brunette hair in neat French braids, cozy lilac sweatpants,an oversized lavender hoodie, and her signature blush pink backpack resting beside her. She’s laughing at something Roman murmurs, her camera never far from reach even at a casual bonfire.
Meg and I have become quite the team at the tourist center with Gloria. Between my hiking videos, social media campaigns, and her stunning nature photography, we’ve become the faces of Crescent Ridge tourism. Our brochures, postcards, and reels have put this little mountain town on the map.
Simon’s hand slides under the hem of my sweater, palm warm and protective against my stomach. He’s been doing that a lot lately, resting his hand there over the secret we’re not quite ready to share with everyone yet. In a few months, our little family is going to grow, and I can’t wait to tell him I already know he’s going to be the most incredible dad.
“Comfortable, butterfly?” he asks, voice low and rough in that way that still gives me butterflies.
“Very,” I murmur, tilting my head back to smile at him. His dirty-blonde hair is a little longer now, and those green eyes still look at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him. “Though I’m pretty sure you’d be just as happy if I never left this spot.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest.
“Guilty. Old habits die hard. I still have to fight the urge to tie you to our bed every time you grab your camera and head out on a hike.”
I laugh softly.
“You threatened to keep me in your cabin so many times that first week. I was delighted by how ridiculous you were.”
“I know I was a bit over zealous,” he admits without shame, tightening his arms around me.
The bonfire winds down and our friends eventually head home. Once their taillights disappear down the mountain road,Simon stands and pulls me up with him, his hands lingering on my waist.
“Bed?” he asks, eyes darkening with that familiar hunger.
“Bed,” I agree, my pulse already quickening.
We barely make it through the front door before his mouth is on mine. The kiss is deep and unhurried, full of love and the kind of comfort that only comes with time. He tastes like campfire smoke and the chocolate he stole from the s’mores tray. His big hands slide down to cup my ass, lifting me effortlessly so my legs wrap around his waist.
He carries me to our bedroom like he did that very first night, only now there’s no hesitation, no fear of tomorrow. Just us.
Simon lays me down on our bed and peels my clothes off slowly, reverently, kissing every new inch of skin he reveals. When I’m bare beneath him, he sits back on his heels and just looks at me, green eyes glowing with heat and love.
“Fuck, Clover,” he breathes. “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
