As for Bryce and Paulie, Coll was thinking she’d wear violet as maid of honor, because it seemed as if those two were just a matter of time.

Lucas would be best man, of course.

Best not to think of him, but her throat tightened just the same.

“Colleen, would you make me one of those grapefruit gimlet thingies I had last time?” Louise asked, and Colleen snapped back to attention.

She made drinks, pulled beers, wiped up spills, flirted with the patrons and made sure Monica and Hannah didn’t need help bringing out orders. She called Rushing Creek to check on Gramp. Joanie, his favorite nurse, said he was sleeping comfortably.

Maybe Coll would stop by later.

She turned to check on Jessica and the gang to see if they needed anything, and there was Lucas.

For a second, it seemed as though she was imagining him, his dark eyes and curling hair and rough, fallen angel beauty.

But no, Carol Robinson walked past him, patted his ass, and said, “Hi, hottie,” and he smiled a little, not looking away from Colleen, and good God, the smile just nailed her to the spot.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her eyes filled with a rush and spilled right over. “I’m very, very sorry, mía.”

That word never failed to get her, and he damn well knew it.

“Well, then,” she whispered. Couldn’t manage anything else.

“Forgive me,” he said.

The bar was quieting, and Colleen realized that yes, she had four beer glasses in her hands and hadn’t moved, and this was quite unusual, and maybe people were catching on, and what was she wearing, anyway, heck, it didn’t matter, probably, at least there was the push-up bra, because every day there was a push-up bra, and Lucas was here, and he was sorry.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same.

“I love you, Colleen,” he said, and no, she wouldn’t be the same, not ever.

Then Hannah took the glasses from her, but still Colleen couldn’t move, but her breath was jerking a little, and those tears just kept slipping down her cheeks.

Then Connor was there, behind the bar with her, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders. “What do you want?” he growled.

“I want to marry your sister,” Lucas answered, his eyes on her still, those deep, dark eyes that always said so much.

Connor bristled. “Over my cold, dead, stiff—”

“Oh, shut up, Connor,” she said, and with that, she scootched up on the bar, swung her legs over and then Lucas had her in his arms, and she was crying and laughing, and Lucas’s face was against her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Let me come home to you, mía. Marry me. I’ll beg if I have to.”

“It’s so tempting, but you know me,” she said. “I’m easy.”

Then she kissed him, and a cheer went up from the gang, and Colleen held her man tight, the one she’d been waiting for, the only man she ever loved.

She pulled back, and Lucas wiped her eyes and kissed her forehead, and Colleen turned to the crowd. Faith was crying, Tom Barlow winked, Mom was blowing her nose into a napkin.

Then she kissed Lucas again and felt him smile against her mouth, and hugged him hard.

She looked over to see her brother smiling, albeit grudgingly I guess I can live with it.

Thanks, brother mine.

“Drinks are on the house!” he called.

EPILOGUE

IN THE GREAT tradition of the O’Rourke and Campbell families, Colleen got pregnant before she got married.

The Hollands had offered her the beautiful stone barn for her wedding, but Colleen wanted it held on the land she and Lucas had just bought—a couple of acres of hilltop meadow, Keuka glinting dark and blue in the distance, the vine-covered hills of Blue Heron to the east. Next week, construction would start on their home; they hoped to be in before the baby came. But for today, there was a white tent on the property, and Rufus galloped around the field, chasing Faith’s dog and Paulie’s fat little pug and dirty-mop dog.

It was a sparkling October afternoon, the sky a heart-wrenching blue, the red and gold leaves glowing on the hills. It would be a simple wedding—a tent, a justice of the peace, lots of good food (nachos, of course) and drinks and music.

Savannah was her maid of honor, and Bryce was best man, Faith and Paulie were bridesmaids. Mom had a date—Ronnie (he’d given them a lifetime pass for free chicken at any Chicken King franchise, and Colleen seemed to have a craving for it, now that she was six weeks knocked up). Dad and Gail were there in the second row, right behind Mom, not quite back together, not quite separated.

All the people Colleen loved, except one.

Gramp had finally slipped away, about two weeks after Lucas proposed. Colleen and Connor had been there, and Dad, too, Colleen with her head on Gramp’s chest, crying quietly because even though it was more than his time, and she firmly believed he’d be in a better place, she’d miss him terribly.

It occurred to her, late that sad night as Lucas held her close and stroked her hair, that maybe on some level, Gramp had waited for her to be taken care of. That maybe he knew she and Lucas had finally found their way back to each other, and felt he could leave her now. That all this time when she’d been taking care of him, he’d been taking care of her, too.

But while pregnancy was making her weepier than normal, today was a happy, happy day.

“You look pretty, yadda yadda,” Connor said. But his eyes were a little teary, too. “You ready?” Because yes, he was giving her away. No one else could do the job.

“I was born ready,” she said, and he grinned and rolled his eyes. “Con?”

“Yes, Irritating Sister?”

“I’ll be your best woman when you finally listen to me and marry Jess.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I love you,” she said, eyes filling.

“I love you, too, idiot. Come on. Your song is playing.”

And there he was, Lucas Damien Campbell, smiling at her. The boy she’d loved from the second she saw him, the man she’d waited for her whole life, the only one for her, and the sun was shining, and she was laughing, and all was right with the world.