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“You realize I’m going to make a spreadsheet for this.” She tapped my chest. “So we’re dating? Exclusively?”

“Emmy.”

“I like clarity.”

“Exclusively. Yes.” Like hell I wanted anyone else. If we were doing this, I was all in.

“Good.”

“We should take down the festival sign,” she said. “And total the sales.”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re very bossy.”

“So I’ve heard.” I slid my hands around her waist. “Your place or mine?”

She smiled. “Look at you asking.”

“Trying something new.”

“Yours.”

I kissed her beneath the wishing tree.

For years, I’d kept my life simple because simple felt safe.

Then Emmy came along.

Turns out making room for her was the easiest decision I’d made in a long time.

EPILOGUE

EMMY

Six Months Later

Cole’s house had a wreath on the front door. Technically it was eucalyptus and tiny white flowers, perfectly appropriate for June, but I still counted it as a victory. The man who had once considered a bare mantel acceptable now had throw pillows on his couch, herbs on the kitchen windowsill, and a framed photo of the two of us sitting next to the picture of him with his grandmother.

The front-door latch worked now too. I’d fixed it in January with the screwdriver from my purse, and he still hadn’t entirely forgiven me.

He claimed none of this meant I had moved in. The dresser drawer full of my clothes suggested otherwise.

I found him at the kitchen island frowning at his laptop and set down two iced coffees and a bakery bag.

“Blueberry muffin for you. Cinnamon roll for me. And an emergency cinnamon roll.”

“I’ve learned not to question the system.”

“See? More personal growth.” I kissed his cheek.

He turned his head and caught my mouth instead and kept one hand at my waist long enough that I forgot I was holding an iced coffee.

“You’re going to make me late,” I said.

“The shop doesn’t open for another hour.”

“It takes twenty to get there.”