“What’s that?” I ask.
“That whatever happens, we stay friends. The thing I fear most of all is losing you.”
She said we shouldn’t make promises, so I don’t. But I kiss her, long and deep and with every bit of conviction I have in my heart.
It’s a promise in and of itself, and I aim to keep it.
Epilogue
Stevie
“I’m so excited for this weekend. It’s going to be epic,” I say.
Logan squeezes my hand, the hand he’s been holding the whole ride up to the mountains despite the questionable safety of having one hand on the wheel while driving on twisty mountain roads.
“Does anyone still say epic?” he teases.
I shrug and pull down the visor mirror to adjust my red winter beanie on my head. My cheeks are pink, my blue eyes are bright, and my hair frames my face. I look . . . happy.
“Who cares? I declare it will be epic. Epic it will be.”
He laughs. “If you say so.”
I take an extra second to appreciate my boyfriend, a word it only recently hasn’t felt weird to call him. He has a fresh haircut, his face is smoothly shaved, he’s wearing a forest green puffer coat that brings out the olive flecks in his eyes, and best of all, he’s smiling. More than anything lately, I love seeing him smile.
My own grin is as bright as the December afternoon sun, and my laugh is genuine. I feel almost giddy with happiness, something I can safely say I’ve rarely been before. But that’s life with Logan now.
Okay, maybe not all the time. There was the one fight we had about whose room to sleep in. (His won. Mine is now my office and a guest room.) And we can get snippy with each other after a long week. But overall, happiness has been my overwhelming emotion for the last three months since I finally came to my senses and committed to being in a relationship with Logan.
He’s been an amazing partner so far. The best I’ve ever had. He never brings me flowers. He hasn’t bought me any jewelry—yet. And we’ve taken the physical side of things slowly, enjoying every mile of the ride.
But he tells me how much he loves me every morning and every night before we fall asleep, he makes me dinner, he walks Bean when my head is stuck in a project, and on my actual birthday, he’d given me a gift certificate to go skydiving again. “Let’s have a do-over,” the card had said.
In short, he’s wonderful. And I’m having an easier and easier time accepting that this new form of love for him is here to stay.
I peek in the back seat. Bean, curled up on a blanket, lifts her head.
“Doing okay back there, Beanie Weenie?” The end of her tail wags. She’s going to have an epic weekend, too.
“So, what are we doing up here again?” Logan asks. “Other than a wedding.”
“I sent you the agenda that Amelia emailed.”
“Yeah . . . I didn’t read it.”
I groan. “Me, either. I was hoping you did.” I dig in my tote bag. “Hang on, I have it in here.”
Despite my best efforts with the thirtieth birthday bucket list, organization has not come easy to me. I’m doing my best, but my desk is a disaster area again, the parts of the house I’m responsible for cleaning could use an enema, and I still work too late when I’m excited about a project. I do floss most nights now, so that’s something.
I’m trying, anyway. And best of all, I have that new bucket list I wanted to put together. The one focused on improving other people’s lives. I’ll get to it soon.
I pull the cream and black wedding invitation out. It has a coffee stain on it, and Bean chewed the side of it when it came through the mail slot the day it arrived, but it’s still legible.
We’re invited to join Travis and Amelia for their wedding ceremony and reception at the Lazy Dog Ranch. And the best part: pets are welcome.
I slide the invite behind the other papers and unfold the information sheet Amelia also mailed about the weekend. There are the requisite hotel options first, then the agenda.
“Okay, tonight there’s a casual dinner in the dining hall followed by a campfire with adult bevvies and s’mores.”
“Mmm,” Logan says.
“Tomorrow morning’s breakfast is at our leisure, and then we can choose from several delightful ranch activities like snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, or snuggling by the fire.”
“I vote for the fire,” Logan says.
“After a snowshoe. Bean needs to get her jiggies out.”
He nods. “Good point.”
“Then lunch, followed by a sleigh ride or wagon ride depending on the conditions.”
“Make that a sleigh ride,” Logan says. “Looks like there’s enough snow.”
I glance out of the window. We’d had a winter storm earlier this week that blanketed Denver in snow and blasted the mountains with two feet of the fluffy stuff. It’s beautiful, glinting white and gold in the sunlight on the sides of the hills cupping the two-lane highway we’re driving along.
I read on. “We should make sure we’re prepared with coats and hats and gloves and all that.” I slap my head. “Crap. I forgot Bean’s winter boots!” She wears small, waterproof boots to protect her paws when it’s snowy. She can hike in them, at least for a few hours, without suffering frosty paws.
“I got them,” Logan says.
I lean over and smooch him on the cheek. “Thank you. Have I told you I love you?”
“Not since this morning. I was starting to wonder.”
“Geez, needy boy. Well, I still love you.” I kiss him again, lingering long enough to let him know I was teasing, then read the rest of the page. “After the sleigh ride, there’s time to chill, and the wedding ceremony will be at seven o’clock, followed by the reception. The last thing is a brunch Sunday morning, after which I’m sure the ranch owners will be glad to get rid of all of us.”
When Bean had her annual appointment a month ago, Travis and Amelia told me the ranch owners were also clients of their practice. They’re cutting them an amazing deal to have the wedding there, hoping to generate positive word of mouth and repeat business. Personally, I can’t wait. I’ve never been to a dude ranch.
“Almost there.” Logan points to a sign for Lazy Dog Ranch ahead. Bean jumps to her feet, paws on the center console, and stares out of the windshield.
I shake my head. “I swear she speaks human.”
“They say border collies are one of the smartest dog breeds,” Logan says, and I laugh.
It’s a private joke that we recite every time she does something dumb, like trying to sneak into Rosa’s yard. The disc dog club has been an incredible outlet for Bean, and for Logan and me for that matter, but it hasn’t dissuaded Bean from harassing the flock next door. I guess the bucket list changes are still sinking in for her, too.
Logan pulls off the highway and onto a slushy dirt road. After bumping our way toward the ranch, the property lays out in front of us. Rustic wood buildings of different sizes, including a grand lodge, sit beside a small stream with a little bridge across it. In the distance, a barn and horse stable perch on a small hill next to a paddock, and all around us majestic mountain peaks stand covered in snow.