Chapter 22
Fuck Settling
“Thank you, Gary!” I call, and he waves before riding back into the storm, a trail of white powder behind him.
I stand at the entrance of Carp-e Diem, watching his taillights disappear up the hill.
My heart thwacks against my ribs. Part nerves, part hope, part absolute terror.
The fairy lights strung between the lampposts sway in the wind, casting dancing shadows across the freshly fallen snow.
It’s the kind of picturesque New England evening that belongs on a postcard, the kind I used to roll my eyes at back in New York.
I’ve been gone for less than two days, but it feels nice being back.
While driving Miriam’s car to Maine, I called Gary and asked him to drop me off in town on his snowmobile since the roads are still closed. He accepted after I helped Butters the other day. He didn’t ask any questions, just gave me a knowing smile that said he’d been waiting for this.
I also texted Winnie on the way, telling her I needed help getting Jamie to the café. She’d responded immediately: Say no more. I got you.
I got you.
I finally have people who’ve got me, and it feels like a miracle.
I push through the door. The little bell chimes, and the scent of coffee and cinnamon wraps around me like a hug. A few customers glance up, waving at me, like this is where I’m supposed to be.
Winnie scrunches her nose, her pink glasses sliding down as she gives me a little wave. “He’s in the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Go.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve got this. And for what it’s worth? He’s been miserable without you. Like, scary miserable. He made sourdough yesterday. The angry kind.”
“There’s an angry kind of sourdough?”
“When my brother makes it, yes.” She gives me a gentle push. “Now go get him before he starts on the rye.”
I swallow hard, adjust my scarf, and walk through the beaded fish curtains, one of which hits me right in the eyeball.
“Ow.” I slap my hand over my face like an eyepatch.
“Gotta be careful with those things,” Jamie says, and I whip toward his voice, hand still covering my wounded retina. He’s kneading dough on the floured countertop.
“I—Jamie, I…” I huff. “I wanted to make a better entrance.”
“Isn’t this the entrance you always seem to make?” He gives me a soft smile, but there is hurt in his eyes. Hurt I caused.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for leaving a note. I got the books you left, if that’s why you’re here.”
“I’m back.”
“For your books.”
“No.” I close the distance between us. “For you. For us. For whatever this thing is that’s happened between us in the last month.”
“But your clinic.”
“Not important.”
“And what about New York?”
“I made a mistake.”
He shakes his head, and I see it then—the careful hope he’s trying not to show, the fear of being hurt again. “What are you doing here?”
“Jamie, I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left.” My voice cracks.
He stops kneading and cleans his floured hands on a rag draped over the counter. Then he swipes a tear from my cheek. “Talk to me.”
“I got scared.” The admission feels like it’s being torn from my chest. “I panicked. I heard you in the kitchen, and I just…I thought leaving would be easier. That it would hurt less if I was the one who walked away first.”
“Joy—”
“Let me finish. Please.” I’m crying now, tears hot on my cold cheeks.
“I got back to New York—well, technically, it was New Jersey—and I couldn’t breathe.
Everything felt wrong. The city felt too small and too big at the same time.
Ever since my parents’ divorce, I’ve been so terrified of getting hurt that I’ve been living half a life. A safe life. A lonely life.”
He’s watching me with those steady green eyes, and I can’t stop now.
“I always thought my life would revolve around work, but I want early mornings in the barn with you. I want to help Honey with her homework and let Kiki teach me about crystals even though I don’t understand any of it.
I want movie nights and donut runs and sledding competitions I’ll always win.
” My voice drops to a whisper. “I want you, Jamie. I want this life. I want to stop running from the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”
He sighs, rubbing his fingers over his mustache, and stares at me intently. “And tomorrow? Next week? When things get hard?”
“I’ll still want it.” I tiptoe my fingers across the floured countertop toward his. “I’ll still want you. I’m terrified, Jamie. Absolutely terrified. But I’m more scared of living without you than I am of trying and failing with you.”
“You’d do that?” His voice is rough. “You’d give up New York?”
“I’m not giving up anything. I’m choosing something better.
I’m choosing a life that actually feels like mine.
” I squeeze his hands. “I’m choosing you.
The girls. The reindeer. This town. All of it.
I’m all in, Jamie. If you’ll have me. I emailed Cathy about buying the old vet practice in town.
I’ve always wanted to run my own place, but I want to be able to drive home at night to you. ”
“Even on a snowmobile half the year.”
“Even if I had to wear those damn tennis racket snowshoes again.”
His laugh is a half sob, and he kisses a tear off my cheek.
“Joy, I’ve been in love with you since you were buried in that pile of snow outside my house.
Since you stayed up all night with me in the barn, teaching yourself everything about reindeer.
Since you looked at my daughters and didn’t see complications, just the bright, brilliant girls I get to raise. ”
“Jamie—”
“I love how you scrunch your entire forehead when you work. How you’ve memorized every reindeer’s name and personality.
How you’ve reminded me of something I thought I would never have again.
” His forehead presses to mine. “You made me believe in second chances again. In new beginnings. In the possibility that maybe the best part of my life isn’t already over. ”
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much it scares me. But I’m done running from things that scare me.”
“I love you too.” He says it like a vow. “And you don’t have to be perfect, Joy. You can be scared. You can mess up. You can have days when you second-guess everything. I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out together.”
“Together,” I repeat, and the word feels like coming home.
We kiss. It’s desperate and tender and tastes like tears and promises. His hands curve into my hair, mine grip his shoulders, and for a moment, we’re just two people who found each other against all odds, choosing love even though it’s terrifying.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, both crying, both laughing, both utterly ready for whatever is next.
“The girls?” I ask, curled up in his hug. “Are the girls going to be mad?”
“No. They had PB&Js in bed yesterday and told me that they made up a chant to make you come back. That they knew you’d come back.”
“Yes.” The word comes out choked. “God, yes. I love them so much. Is that crazy? It’s only been a few weeks—”
“It’s not crazy.” He brushes hair from my face. “They love you too. They probably already have a welcome-back party planned.”
“Sounds like I can break out the glitter eyeliner.”
“Where are your bags? Let’s get you back to the cabin. We need to figure out when to tell the twins about us.”
“Actually.” I bite my lip. “I want to do this right. Winnie offered me her spare apartment above the café. That way, we can take our time. Date properly. Let the girls adjust. Build something that lasts because we’re choosing it every day, not just because it’s convenient.”
His eyebrows lift. “You talked to Winnie about this?”
“On the phone. She may have cried. And then threatened to murder me if I hurt you again.”
“That sounds like Winnie.”
“She also said you’ve been making angry sourdough.”
“In my defense, the woman I love ran away to New York.”
“The woman you love is standing right here.” I reach up to touch his face. “And she’s not going anywhere. Ever again.”
He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Good.” I lean into him, breathing in balsam and espresso and home. I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for my whole life.
Not perfection. Not safety. Not some predetermined path I’m supposed to follow.
Just love. Messy, complicated, terrifying, beautiful love.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask into his jacket.
“Anything.”
“Can you cut my crust off the next time you make PB&J sandwiches?”
He laughs. “I’ll give you whatever I can, Joy Winters. Forever.”
He kisses me again, soft and sweet, and I taste the promise of every Christmas to come, every morning, every challenge, every ordinary, miraculous day we’ll build together.
“Forever,” I whisper back. “I’m finally home.”