Southern Heat by Natasha Madison

Epilogue One

Quinn

One Year Later

“I forgot something at the barn.” I look over at Willow as she wipes down the counter we just ate dinner on.

“Okay.” She looks up at me, and she is even more beautiful than the first day I saw her. “Go get it.”

I look down, and my heart speeds up nervously. “Do you want to come with me?”

“You’re acting weird.” She looks at me, and I roll my eyes.

“How am I acting weird?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest, knowing exactly how I’m being weird.

“Well, for one, you didn’t attack me when I walked in from work.” She tilts her head to the side. She works with my father every single day from one in the afternoon until five. It’s the only hours we aren’t together, and every time she walks in the door, I spend a good hour making up for the lost time. “And you want me to come with you to the barn instead of ‘getting naked.’” She uses her fingers in air quotes.

“Number one, I was cooking when you walked in,” I tell her.

“Which is another weird thing because you always wait for me,” she says, walking over to me and washing her hands.

“Would you just come with me?” I say. She laughs at me and walks to the front door to get her shoes. I look at her walk away and the picture of us right on the table. There are actually pictures of us everywhere. Us at the barn, us with our horses, us at one of the barbecues. And in every picture, Willow’s face is lit up with smiles.

“Okay,” she says, walking back, and I take another look at her. She is wearing white jeans and a jean shirt that is loose on her and tucked in. “Let’s go.”

She slides her hand in mine when we walk out of the house. “We should have everyone over this weekend,” she says, looking over at me. “So the pool finally gets used.”

“That sounds good,” I say, tapping the steering wheel before I tell her that it’s already planned. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it.”

“It is,” she says, and I look down instead of looking over at her. We pull up to the barn, and I look at her. “Do I have enough time to go and say hello to Hope?” she asks, and I just nod at her. She walks into the barn, and the lights are off as I follow her in.

She walks over to the barn and turns on the lights, and instead of the bright lights, only soft lights come on. Lights are hanging all the way down to Hope’s stall. She looks up and takes in the lights at the end of the stall in the shape of a heart.

She stops walking and then turns to look at me, finding me right behind her and down on one knee. Her hands go to her mouth, and she sobs out and bends at the waist. “Willow,” I say her name softly as she stands there, her whole body shaking. “One year ago today, I took you in my arms,” I say, and I see the look on her face as she realizes what the date is. “You barely had a heartbeat, and if truth be told, I would have given you my heart back then. I would have had my heart beat for you even back then. I can’t explain to you how or why it happened. The only thing I can tell you is that you were made for me. All of you was made for me. We were made for each other.” She shakes, not saying anything, and I take out the black box my father gave me six months ago. “I wanted to get you a ring that was perfect for you,” I say. “But my father had other plans.” I open the ring. “This ring is the one he gave my mother when he asked her to marry him.”

“I can’t take your family's ring,” she says, putting her hand on her heart.

“Don’t you get it?” I say. “It is their way of showing you that you are theirs also,” I say. Her legs give out, and I catch her around her waist. “Willow Davis,” I say her name again. “Will you be my wife? Will you hold my hand every single day? Will you grow old with me?”

“Are you sure?” She looks at me. “Are you really sure?”

“I haven’t been more sure of anything in my whole life,” I say.

“Quinn,” she says. “From the moment I opened my eyes one year ago, I have never felt so safe. From the moment I felt your hand in mine, I knew that your hands would be the ones to pick me up instead of push me down. I fell in love with you without even knowing what love is.” She moves her hand up to my face. “You, Quinn Barnes, made my heart beat with your love.” She smiles. “So yes, I’ll marry you.” She inches her face closer to me, and here in the middle of the barn where she slowly opened up her heart and life to me, I make her mine.