Page 210 of The Exit Strategy

“You were never impossible to love, Junie,” he says, staring straight at my brother.

“He’s right,” Nolan says. “Loving you is the one thing I think we all did right.”

Behind us, Stanley shouts into the megaphone while Marley chases him with a ticket in hand. Dollie and Nana Mae are setting out food while Frank photographs everything. Katie stands with Bea at the punch bowl, but it appears Bea is forcing coffee on Katie, and her cackle of laughter tells me she’s tipsy enough not to care.

Music plays from speakers strategically placed throughout the property to blend in with nature. And Cole leads me in a dance, right here on our front porch with all our friends and family watching.

“To Cole and Juniper,” Nana Mae says over the crowd with the help of Stanley’s megaphone.

With the side of my face pressed into Cole’s chest, I’ve never felt so…content.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” Cole’s words kiss across the top of my head, so I tilt my face up to look at him.

“You’re going to be my husband.”

“And you’re going to be my wife. Soon.”

“Soon,” I agree because we’ve already wasted too much time.

“I love you.” Those three words are the salve I’ve always needed in my life.

“I love you too.”

Amongst the faces of our family and friends, I see all the different versions of me. The woman I was. The woman I am. The woman I’m about to become. And all of them are finally in agreement on something…

We’re going to stay.

EPILOGUE

LOAD-BEARING

Cole

Three Months Later

Six hours.

That’s how much longer I have to wait in this house that wasn’t built to feel so empty.

Because it’s not just a house. It’s a home.

I understand the difference now.

Our home at Papa’s fishing hole holds the quiet differently than the model house we used to live in. It’s not an empty silence anymore…it’s holding space for the life that will happen here.

I know because I drafted the plans for it in painstaking detail.

Junie spent last night at Katie’s because Katie declared it a tradition we weren’t going to mess with. And Katie’s traditions, frequently invented on the spot, are enforced with the zeal of a small-town dictator in sequins.

That’s how I end up on the deck of our home at 7 a.m.watching the fog sit low over the marsh, counting down the hours until Junie Mercer becomes Junie Whittaker.

My phone buzzes on the railing.

BFFs Maid of Honor Group Chat:

Katie: She’s awake. She’s fine. She may have tried to reorganize the seating chart at 2 a.m., but she’s FINE.

Junie: I’m right here, Katherine.