He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Are you ready for prom, Sunshine?”
“Depends.” I arch a brow and then glance toward his feet. “Are there blisters involved with those dress shoes?”
“Not this time, even though you’d be worth it.” His mouth curves. “Again.”
He laces his fingers in mine, and we walk through the barn doors. The air leaves my lungs in one slow whoosh as I take it all in.
They’ve turned the inside of the barn into a real-life forest with pine boughs fastened to every beam, aspen saplings planted in galvanized buckets around the perimeter, and Meadow Blooms wildflowers threaded through all of it, a riot of texture and color and thoughtfulness that makes my heart fling itself against my rib cage.
Strands of fairy lights hang from the rafters, less a ceiling and more a twinkling indoor sky. There’s even mist, from a machine I can hear humming somewhere out of sight. It curls between the trees like the fog that wrapped the trail the morning he introduced me toBrigadoon. For the record, I’ve watched the Gene Kelly movie four times since and insisted we see a live production over Christmas.
“Jensen.” I glance toward my friends and their partners, and press my lips into a tight line to keep from completely losing it. “You guys.”
“There’s more,” Jeremy says, as if this isn’t already too much.
Jensen turns me toward the opposite wall, and I do, in fact, lose it.
A two-person tent is pitched on a square of fake turf with a hand-lettered sign nailed to a nearby pole that reads:ADVENTURE AWAITS. Beside it, a card table covered in a linen cloth holds a first-aid kit, a French press, and a framed moose photo captioned in Iris’s neat block print:Do Not Approach. This Mama Will End You.
I’m laughing and crying at the same time, which isn’t a pretty look, but I don’t care in the slightest.
Jensen nods at the tent. “We’re not sleeping in that thing. Photo backdrop only.”
“I love it,” I say and go up on tiptoe to kiss him. He wraps hisarms around my waist and spins me in a wide circle while our friends cheer wildly.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he says when I’m on the ground again.
“Best prom ever?” Avah asks, her smile smug because she already knows the answer.
I grin at my friends. “Best prom ever,” I shout.
“It’s about to get even better,” a familiar voice calls, and Cody steps onto the makeshift stage I hadn’t noticed set up in one corner.
I let out a not-so-soft squeal of excitement.
“I have that effect on women,” he says into the microphone, then tips his hat as Jensen shakes his head. Cody is six months sober, still insufferable, and I absolutely adore him.
He strums the guitar and begins crooning a familiar Patsy Cline number, and all the couples—Luke and Laurel included—begin dancing like this really is the best prom ever.
I love them so much, especially the man who draws me into the middle of it.
“Maybe you should have rented steel-toed dress shoes,” I tell him with a grimace.
He tucks me against him and starts to sway. “Having you crush my feet,” he says, “is one of my favorite things.”
I set my cheek to his chest as he turns us in slow circles under a thousand indoor stars. I’ll press this night between its pages later—the playlist and the mist and wildflowers, Cody’s velvet voice, and the precious knowing that my happy ending is here to stay.
As the song ends, Iris joins Cody behind the microphone, a clipboard in hand.
“Is the clipboard necessary?” Avah calls.
“She loves that thing,” Jake mutters, but the look in his dark eyes says he loves her even more for it.
“As the only member of the book club with documentedexperience running an election,” she announces, “I’ve tabulated the votes.”
“There were no votes,” Piper says.
“Luke and Laurel, please close your eyes for a moment,” Iris says sweetly. When both kids comply, she flips Piper the bird.