Sawyer smiled and reached out to caress her cheek. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. There’s not going to be another woman in South Carolina who is as loved and adored as my wife will be. But first, she’s got to accept my proposal.” He slipped the ring out of the box and held it up to Kat. “So what do you say? Do you want to marry me and become Mrs. Sawyer Steele?”
Kat looked at him and nodded through her tears. “I do. Yes!” She held out her hand and let him slip the family heirloom onto her finger. “It fits perfectly,” she said, before leaning in and giving Sawyer a kiss.
“I know this isn’t how you wanted things to turn out, or the family you envisioned when you came looking for Finn that day—” Sawyer began.
“It’s not,” Kat interrupted. “It’s so much better.” She kissed him again and he knew that she was right.
Their future together would be perfectly imperfect.
Epilogue
“And with the cutting of this ribbon, I’m happy to declare that the District Art Center is now officially reopened!”
Sawyer gave the nod to Kat a
nd she, along with several of her fellow artisans, used the ridiculously large scissors to cut the ribbon. The audience cheered and the media happily filmed the crowds as they pushed through the front door to see the new and improved District.
Kat was bursting with pride as Sawyer sidled up beside her and wrapped his arm around her ever expanding waist. She was just a week into her third trimester now and she was starting to feel like an overfilled balloon. She couldn’t imagine getting bigger and yet she had nearly three months left to go. Beatrice Astrid Steele, or Sweet Bea, as Sawyer referred to her, would be arriving sometime around Christmas. It was the best present she could ever expect.
The renovation of the District was a close second. Sawyer and his team had done amazing work on the building. It was basically a gut job, by necessity, but now there were sound floors covered in ceramic tile, ceilings that weren’t on the verge of falling onto anyone’s head, electrical and plumbing systems that worked and a new, blessed addition—air-conditioning and insulation. The open space around the warehouse was redone, too, with benches and fountains, trees, and an outdoor amphitheater for musical and theatrical performances. Later tonight, one of the local bands was going to be playing a concert to celebrate the reopening.
Kat and Sawyer followed the crowd inside. Most of the former artisans had returned, but in the unrented studios and newly developed spaces, there were some additions. Not only did they gain new painters, jewelry makers and other crafters, but they got some food vendors, too. A Mediterranean falafel place opened up near the entrance, an artisan Popsicle shop was on the third floor and a cupcake bakery—Kat’s favorite stop—was on the ground floor.
There were no commercial chains, something Sawyer had promised her, but there was definitely a nice, upscale feel about the place now. Yes, there were artists at work, but it didn’t feel like they were squatters in an abandoned warehouse any longer. It felt like they belonged, and their art was something worth coming to the District to see and, hopefully, to buy.
As they reached Kat’s studio, with her Wooden Dreams sign in place, she was surprised to see there were already a few people eyeing her work. She kissed Sawyer on the cheek and went over to chat with her potential new customers.
A few minutes and a sale later, she turned back to find Sawyer on the phone. His face was as white as it had been the day he’d found out she was pregnant with Finn’s child. Something was wrong.
She waited on eggshells until he ended the call and then turned to her. “What is it?” she asked.
“There’s been an accident. Finn’s private jet back from Beijing lost radio contact somewhere near the West Coast. They think the plane went down near Portland, Oregon.”
Kat brought her hand to her mouth in shock. “Oh my God. Do they know if anyone survived?”
Sawyer shook his head. “They don’t know. Rescue crews are searching for the plane in the woods and out at sea, but without a good idea of where it might’ve gone down, it might be a while before we know for sure if Finn is dead or alive.”
* * *