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Jackson was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hesitant. “Are you happy here, Vanessa? Really happy?”

The question caught her completely off guard. “What? Of course I am. Jackson, why would you⁠—”

“I mean with this life,” he continued, his eyes fixed on their joined hands. “Small-town life. Spending so much time at home with Philip. All of this.” He gestured vaguely around the room, as if gesturing at the house, the town, everything. “Sometimes I wonder if I… if I pulled you away from a life you’d rather still be living. Your career, the city, all the opportunities you had there.”

Vanessa felt her chest ache, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. “Jackson, look at me.”

He did, and she could see the genuine worry in his eyes.

“I’ve told you this before,” she said gently, squeezing his hand. “So many times. I’m happy. I’m so incredibly happy.”

“I know you’ve said that.” Jackson looked down at his hand. “But I wonder if you miss it. If you wish you’d made different choices.”

“Is that what this is about?” Vanessa shifted closer, bringing her free hand up to cup his face. “Jackson, I need you to understand something. Yes, at one point I thought I loved my career. I was good at it, and it kept me busy, and there was a time when I thought that was what I wanted my whole life to look like.”

She paused, making sure he was really hearing her. “But then I came here, and I got to know my grandmother again, and I met you. And everything changed. Not because you made me change, but because I could see a different kind of life. One with you in it.”

“But you gave up so much⁠—”

“I didn’t give up anything,” she interrupted firmly. “I chose. There’s a difference. I chose you, this town, my grandmother, this life we’re building together. And I would choose it again, Jackson. Every single time.”

The wind rattled the windows again, but inside their little cocoon by the fire, everything felt warm and safe. Philip made a small sound from his bassinet in the kitchen, but it was just a sleep noise, Vanessa realized after a moment, nothing that required attention.

“I never want you to worry about this,” Vanessa continued, her voice soft but certain. “Not for a single moment. I don’t miss anything about my old life. I don’t miss my overbearing boss or my soulless apartment or my life that didn’t have any friends or love or anything other than busyness and routine.”

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “You didn’t take me away from anything. You gave me something. You gave me a family of my own and a life that’s slow and full and happy and satisfying.”

“I just—” Jackson’s voice was rough with emotion. “I see how much you love being a mother, how you’ve thrown yourself into making this house a home, how you’ve embraced everything about Fir Tree Grove. And it’s beautiful, Vanessa. It’s more than I ever dreamed of. But I need to know that you’re not just doing it for me. That you’re not sacrificing your own happiness for mine.”

Vanessa pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, making sure he could see the absolute truth in her expression. “I’m not sacrificing anything. This is my happiness. You are my happiness. Philip is my happiness. This life, this town, this home—all of it. It’s exactly what I want.”

She kissed him then, soft and slow, hoping he could feel everything that she did in the kiss. When she pulled back, she could see some of the tension had eased from his shoulders.

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly.

“I’m absolutely sure,” she said firmly. “Jackson, I love our life. I love waking up next to you every morning. I love watching you with Philip, seeing how patient you are with him. I love that we can have impromptu gingerbread house decorating parties on a Friday night because we’re snowed in. I love that I know everyone at the grocery store, and they know me. I love that this town feels like home.”

She shifted, curling into his side, and his arm went around her automatically, holding her close. “I love that when I look at our future, I see more of this. Quiet evenings by the fire, holidays, years together, maybe even more babies.” She turned, giving him a small grin. “That’s what I want, Jackson. Not what I used to have, but what’s right here in front of me.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind outside. Vanessa could feel Jackson’s heartbeat against her cheek, and she felt him gradually relax.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I hear you. I do.”

They stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other while the storm raged outside and their baby slept peacefully in the next room. Eventually, Jackson stirred, sitting up slightly. “So,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Tell me more about these gingerbread house cookies. Because that setup in the kitchen looks pretty elaborate.”

Vanessa laughed, relief flooding through her. “Oh, you have no idea. I may have gone a little overboard with the decorating supplies.”

“A little?” Jackson raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing now. “I counted at least three different types of edible glitter.”

“Four, actually,” she admitted with a grin. “And before you judge me, just remember that you’re the one who bought Philip a mobile with woodland creatures in scarves.”

“That’s different. That’s practical,” he pointed out. “That keeps our baby entertained.”

“Edible glitter is practical.”

“How?”

“It makes everything prettier. That’s very practical.”