56
2 months later…
Courtland
I pack the last of my stuff, zip my suitcase shut, and flop down onto the bed. I haven't slept in this room for the last two months, not since Buzz and I got together—and both caught a mild cold—after our declarations in the rain.
It's June 1.
I've met the six-month get married and don't leave town provision set out in Grandpa Arnie's will. As of today, the inn is officially mine.
I slap my thighs and get up and wander around the empty apartment one last time. As happy as I am about owning the inn, I'm sad to be leaving this place.
Buzz's cozy little apartment holds so much sentimental value. I may have been in love with him for years and years, but it's while we were living here that I finally got the balls to say it.
I take in the breakfast bar he'd sit at while eating breakfast, the counter where I'd sip my coffee, read my paper, and pretend not to look at him, the sofa he'd blow me on, the front door where we'd kiss each other goodbye before setting off on our days out in the world.
But all good things must come to an end, right?
It's time to move on.