First Kissmas

8. Epilogue – Courtney

8

EPILOGUE – COURTNEY

TEN YEARS LATER

“ M erry Christmas, beautiful.”

I’m already drifting in that peaceful space between sleeping and waking, but Ryder’s deep voice brings me the rest of the way out of sleep. I’m warm and cozy under our pile of quilts, tucked against my husband as he holds me close. In his late forties now, Ryder is even more handsome than the first day I met him—the silver threading through his dark hair only enhances those striking features of his, and his body is still powerful and muscular from years of working with his hands.

“Merry Christmas, handsome,” I murmur, giving him a soft, lingering kiss.

“Mmm.” His fingers trace my hip. “You’re a really good kisser, you know that, Court?”

“Well, I’ve had lots of practice.” I smile against his mouth. “Ten years’ worth, to be precise.”

It’s amazing how life has changed in the best possible ways over the past decade. We've made our home here in the mountains, a short drive away from Fairhope, in a setting that reminds Ryder of his old surroundings but which he claims he loves even more—though I like to tease him that it's just because he has an even bigger workshop now. As for me, what started as a casual interest in photography ended up growing into my very own wedding photography business. But the biggest delight has been the chaotic joy that our two daughters have brought to our days, thanks to their laughter, their wild spirits, and the way they see the world with such wonder and possibility.

“Mom? Dad?” Avery’s voice calls impatiently through our bedroom door. “Are you guys awake yet?”

“Santa came!” Shae adds excitedly.

Ryder chuckles. “Come on in, girls.”

They burst through the door in their Christmas pajamas—Avery in snowflakes, Shae in candy canes. At nine, Avery is starting to show hints of the young woman she’ll become, and she has her father’s gentle eyes and my determination. Seven-year-old Shae bounces beside her sister, looking as wild as always, her dark hair frizzy and tangled from sleep.

“Come on, come on!” Shae tugs at my hand while Avery pulls her father from bed. “There are presents everywhere!”

Laughing, we happily let our daughters drag us downstairs, where our living room glows with the warmth of Christmas morning. Our four stockings hang from the stone fireplace, and our tree sparkles with a decade of collected memories—including those first ornaments Ryder bought me, still catching the light just as beautifully as they did in my tiny Fairhope apartment.

The rest of the morning passes in a whirlwind of wrapping paper and excited exclamations. Avery shows off her new art supplies while Shae tests out the keyboard she’s been begging for. Halfway through opening presents, Shae looks up suddenly.

“Do you think Santa brought our neighbor any presents?”

I share a look with Ryder. Griffin Adler moved into the only other house within walking distance six months ago. While I’m always polite when we cross paths, we’ve kept our distance—especially after hearing whispered rumors in Fairhope about his dangerous past. The former military man clearly prefers his solitude, which is fine by me.

“Santa visits everyone,” Avery says wisely, though she glances at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

Ryder smoothly changes the subject. “Who’s hungry? The stew should be ready by now.”

The rich aroma of his traditional Christmas beef stew has been filling the house all morning. Some things haven’t changed in ten years—he still makes it exactly the same way he did when he lived alone. But now we all get to enjoy it together, savoring it with warm bread and stories that make the girls laugh.

After lunch, the girls return to their gifts—Shae explores the features on her new keyboard while Avery uses her art supplies to paint the snowy landscape outside our living room windows, adding deer and foxes and even a family of bears to her imaginative scene.

As I gather discarded wrapping paper from the living room floor, a truck engine rumbles past our house—our neighbor heading down the mountain. Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Griffin Adler’s serious profile as he drives by.

“Where do you think he’s going on Christmas?” Shae asks, her fingers pausing on her keyboard.

“Some people spend holidays differently than we do,” I say. “And that’s okay.”

Avery gives me one of her perceptive looks. “Is that why you and Dad never invite him over? Because he likes to be alone?”

I consider how to answer. “Sometimes when people choose to live away from others, it’s because they need their space. Like how your dad used to live alone before we met.”

“But then you found each other,” Shae says with the romantic enthusiasm of a seven-year-old. “And now we’re a family.”

Ryder sidles up beside me, pulling me close. “Exactly. Now we’re a family.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and a deep, loving warmth fills my chest. Sometimes it still amazes me how that scared girl walking through the snow stumbled into meeting such a good man.

Then again, the life we have now sure feels like it was always meant to be.

“We haven’t taken any photos yet,” I realize suddenly. “Let’s get one of all of us together.”

I grab my camera and quickly set it up on the tripod, and we all gather in front of the Christmas tree. Ryder’s arm slides around my waist as the girls nestle in front of us.

“Everyone ready?” I ask, holding up the remote.

Click.

“Wait, I was blinking!” Avery protests. “Can we do another one?”

“Okay, one more.” I raise the remote again. “On three?—”

“Mom? Dad?” Shae interrupts. “I know Santa already came, but can I add one more thing to my Christmas list?”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“A dog!” She looks up at us with pleading eyes. “Please? I promise I’ll help take care of it!”

Ryder and I exchange a look, but I already know we’ll end up saying yes. In fact, I can already picture how a dog will add to the beautiful chaos of our lives—muddy paw prints on the floor, early morning walks in the snow, one more heart to love. I’ve never had a dog before, but I love the idea of experiencing another first.

That’s the thing about firsts—they’re where all the magic begins.

And if you’re lucky enough, like I’ve been these past ten years, the magic never fades.

Thank you so much for reading!

Wondering if the rumors about Griffin are true?

Find out in How to Kiss A Mountain Man