Now he gripped both her hands, almost afraid to let go in fear the day might dissolve away. A foolish thought—but real to him. Three months ago she’d vanished, and he was fortunate to have her back.

He didn’t hear the minister. He had eyes only for the woman beside him. Ollie had to prod him when it was his time to speak.

“I never imagined there would be someone on earth created perfectly for me,” he said softly. “I stop breathing every time you walk in the room.”

Her mouth opened the slightest bit, her green gaze locked on his.

No one else was present.

He felt his happiness in his chest, his bones, his blood, everywhere.

“My heart beats for you,” he told her. “And forever only you.”

“Truman.” Mercy briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You are my person. You are as necessary to me as air. As water. As food. There is no one I’d rather sleep beside. No one I’d rather wake beside. No one I’d rather have my last breath beside.”

Her face blurred, and he wiped his eyes.

“My heart is in your hands for safekeeping,” she told him.

This stubborn woman, who was unable to lean on anyone, had just given him her trust.

He would honor it forever.

THIRTY-NINE

After the ceremony Mercy leaned against the rail of the home’s giant deck, staring at the moon as it reflected off the lake below. Behind her, heaters gently blasted, struggling to warm the outdoor area. She didn’t feel the cold. Truman’s arm was around her shoulders, and Pearl had insisted on sewing Mercy a “wedding coat.” A thick floor-length white coat with a faux-fur collar and cuffs. It was perfect for standing outdoors in the snow with her husband.

Husband.

The word was foreign. It would take getting used to, but she wasn’t worried.

The two of them stood alone, the rest of the guests eating cake and drinking champagne. Mercy had noticed that Britta was policing the doors to the deck, giving the newlyweds time to catch their breath and have a quiet moment.

She leaned into him.

Forever.

The word echoed in her bones, warming her soul.

Ollie and Kaylie stepped outside, Ollie carrying a wrapped present the size and shape of a large wall painting.

“How did you get by Britta?” asked Truman.

“I told her you needed to open our wedding present. Now,” replied Ollie as Kaylie nodded.

Truman took the large but lightweight present and held it between himself and Mercy. “Take off the paper,” he urged her.

Mercy looked at Ollie. “Who bought this?”

“We did,” said Kaylie. “Ollie came to me with the idea a few months ago, and I helped design it.”

Mercy ripped off the paper. It was a large canvas full of words in all different fonts and shapes, but in the middle in huge letters it said MERCY & TRUMAN with their wedding date right below. Mercy’s gaze flew over the rest of the words. Ollie’s and Kaylie’s names jumped out at her along with those of the pets, Dulce, Simon, and Shep. All their family members’ names were on the canvas, along with those of their spouses and children. Even baby Henry’s. Interspersed among the names were words that meant something personal to her or Truman. Love. Family. Laughter. Peace. Dream. Believe.

“We thought you could hang it in the cabin,” Ollie told her.

“I love it,” said Mercy, holding back tears. She looked at the teenagers. “It’s amazing. It’s perfect.”

The canvas was a lovely representation of the formation of their unexpected lives together. Fifteen months ago she had believed she knew her future: a solo but secure path of work and preparation. Instead she’d taken an uncharacteristic gamble on a handsome police chief and discovered her fate. She’d never look back.

She met Truman’s gaze. “What do you think?”

His eyes burned with emotion that heated her blood. “I think we’ll keep it forever.”

Forever.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I can’t believe this is the last Mercy book. I hope you’ve enjoyed her ups and downs over the six books. I suspect she or Truman might show up in a future book as a secondary character, because I find it hard to leave characters behind for good. I love dropping old characters into new stories as a surprise, and my readers tell me they love it too.

I can’t rave enough about my publishing team at Montlake. Anh, Hai-Yen, Galen, Mikyla, Gabby, Colleen, Adria, and so many more people work hard to get my books into the hands of readers. My success is because of them. I hope my editor, Charlotte Herscher, never leaves. She’s edited my books since my debut novel and has taught me many, many things about crafting a good story. My agent, Meg Ruley, is full of energy, smiles, ambition, and drive. Thank you for being in my corner.

My girls wait patiently when I beg for another minute to finish my train of thought at the keyboard when they need answers to important questions. Or not so important. Most of the time my reply is “That’s a question for Google.”

I’m blessed to have great kids; they are why I write.