“Can I have a second?” Nate asks after Evan leaves.

“Of course,” I say.

“I just want to tell you how proud I am of you,” he says. “Not only the wonderful job you’ve done raising Evan and the incredible man he’s turned into, but also the wonderful job you’ve done with the inn.” Nate hesitates. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have pressured you into selling the cottage.” He hesitates again. “I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.”

His admission feels as if a weight has finally been lifted from my body, and I feel freer, lighter. I think back to when he sent Trey and Cissy to spy on me. I don’t know if they ever told him I busted them, but it no longer matters.

“And I’m happy you found Scooter,” he says. “You deserve only love and joy.”

Again, his words stop me cold. “Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

There is yet another knock on the door, and I open it to see a young Thoroughbred of a woman—all legs and lustrous mane—holding a glass of champagne and looking very impatient. “Is Nate in here?” she asks.

I open the door fully and gesture.

“I missed you,” she says in a baby voice.

Fuschia has been replaced by Nate’s latest girlfriend—Britney? Tiffany? Stormy?—who chugs her champagne.

“Ashley...” Nate starts.

Ashley!

“...this is Adie Lou, the bride and my former wife.”

Ashley eyes me up and down. “It’s, like, nice to meet you. Your dress is totally vintage.”

It is? I think. It’s new.

“Like, congrats,” she continues. “So, yeah.”

I look at Nate, eyes wide as if to ask, Why is a college professor dating a human emoji?

He smiles.

“Thank you,” I say to Ashley, who doesn’t look up. She is already furiously tapping on her cell with a purple nail. The color of her polish makes me think of Fuschia, and I have to stifle a laugh.

Suddenly, I see Trish in the hallway. She gives Nate an overly dramatic and sarcastic thumbs-up.

This time, I laugh out loud. “I deserve that,” he whispers. “You have a good friend—and attorney—there.”

“I do,” I say.

Nate gives me a hug and then looks at me for the longest time.

“You figured it out,” Nate says, his voice coming out as a fragile whisper. “I hope I do, too, one day, Adie Lou.”

Adie Lou, I think. He finally called me Adie Lou. It’s like he finally sees the woman I am, the girl I always was.

I watch him walk away with Ashley as Trish rushes in with two glasses of champagne.

“Looks like you could use this,” she says.

“He was actually...” I search for the right word. “Nice.”

Trish clinks my glass. “Ready to get hitched?” she asks.

“I am.”

I really am, I think.