My (Not So) Perfect Plan (Believe In Us #2)

Epilogue

CLAIRE

“Claire! That you?” Evan calls as I let myself into the shop.

“Yeah, babe,” I call out, locking the door behind me. The shop carries a perennial smell of wood – pine, maple, cedar, and oak. Evan’s business has taken off since Jaxon made it in the NBA and then tweeted about the new table Evan handcrafted as a wedding gift for him and Rachel. Turns out football and wood working are Evan’s passions in life.

While I’ve been apprenticing as an event coordinator for the likes of big wig party planner Meredith Taylor, Evan has been steadily growing his business of custom-designed and hand-crafted wood furniture.

I will never stop finding the movement of his muscles straining as he works on his craft pieces exhilarating. I sneak into the back of the shop where he’s working with a chisel and hammer. I slide my arms around his waist, delighted to feel his ab muscles ripple in response. He drops his tools, groans and turns to me, giving me a kiss that has me trembling.

“I brought you something,” I murmur against his lips. I draw away, biting my lip in apprehension and set one of the brown bags on the table. I usually bring him his lunch so this isn’t unusual, but his face goes from expectant to confused when he feels how light it is. He exchanges a confused glance with me and I smile at him and nod, telling him to go ahead.

He opens the bag and digs his hand inside, frowning as he pulls out the stick. For two seconds his confusion continues and then his eyes grow huge and his mouth drops open. He turns to me holding the stick up in the air.

“Is this right? Are you…?” he gasps.

I nod my head vigorously, tears of happiness leaking out the sides of my eyes. He whoops and lifts me around the waist, twirling me in the air as he kisses me. I laugh and cover his face with kisses, happiness washing over me at the family we will become in nine months time.

We’ve changed so much since the football accident that threw my plan into disarray. But I’ve never regretted it.

Evan’s knee never recovered enough for him to play football, but it worked just fine for going down on one knee to ask for my hand in marriage last year, for carrying me across the threshold of the house he helped build, and for hauling lumber and tools to the storefront we opened up on Main Street.

To my everlasting shame, my siblings are making their own way just fine without me and I am perfectly content to remain right near where I grew up. Sometimes the perfect plan is the one that didn’t work out.