Epilogue
GRACE
The restaurant on Main Street had been there since before either of them were born.
Grace had walked past it a thousand times. Had looked through the window at the white tablecloths and the candles and the couples leaning toward each other over shared desserts, and had thought—someday, maybe. If she was lucky.
Now it wasn’t someday, it was just… every other Friday.
Luke's hand warm at the small of her back as they stepped inside. Their usual table—they had a usual table now—was tucked in the corner by the window where the spring evening light came through golden and soft.
"You're doing the thing," Luke said, once they were seated.
Grace looked up from the menu she didn't need. "What thing?"
"The thing where you look slightly surprised to be here."
"I'm just—" She set the menu down. "Appreciating it."
Luke reached across the table and took her hand. Just like that. Easy. Like he'd been doing it forever.
She turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his.
Outside the window, Main Street was doing what it always did on a Friday evening in spring—families, dog walkers, couples sharing ice cream. There were freshly hanging baskets of flowers the town council had approved.
It had been during her first official meeting as a council member.
She was still getting used to that.
"What are you having?" Luke asked.
"The salmon."
"You always get the salmon."
"Because it's always good."
He smiled. She felt that warm, settled certainty that still occasionally caught her. No longer new, now it felt permanent. Like something load-bearing.
The waiter came. They ordered. Luke kept hold of her hand across the table, releasing it only when the food arrived, and even then his knee found hers beneath the table and stayed there.
They were halfway through dinner when the first interruption came.
"Grace Hart!”
She looked up. Mrs. Talbot was threading her way between tables.
"I heard the vote went through," she said, beaming.
"As of Tuesday," Grace confirmed.
Mrs. Talbot clasped both of Grace's hands in hers. "I am so pleased. So pleased. This town needs exactly that—someone who actually knows what's happening on the ground."
"I'm just one vote," Grace said.
"Don't do that," Mrs. Talbot said firmly. "Don't be modest about it. You've earned it." She released her hands, nodded approvingly at Luke. "You must be very proud."
"Every day," Luke said. Simply. Without hesitation.
Mrs. Talbot smiled with what Grace could only describe as satisfaction.
"Good," she said, and went to find her own table.
Grace looked at Luke.
"Every day?" she said.
"Every day," he repeated, utterly unabashed. He picked up his fork. "Eat your salmon."
She ate her salmon.
The second interruption came from Tom Wilson, who stopped by on his way out to shake Grace's hand and tell her the hardware store would be happy to sponsor the spring streetscape project if she needed vendors. The third was Eleanor Matthews. The fourth were parents of a student.
Each time, Luke just watched her with that quiet, steady expression.
When Grace turned back to find him looking at her with his chin resting in his hand, elbow on the table, entirely relaxed.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm allowed to stare at my girlfriend."
"We've been together six months. You should be less—" She waved her fork. "—like that by now."
"Like what?"
She felt the warmth rise in her face. "You know what."
Luke grinned. “You know,” he said slowly. "I don't think I will ever be less like this.”
Grace shook her head and looked back at her plate, smiling despite herself.
Outside, the spring evening was deepening toward dusk, the street lamps flickering on one by one along Main Street. Their street. Their town.
"Your mother called this morning," Grace said.
"I know. She texted me a photo of the restaurant she wants to take us to.”
"It looks nice."
"It's very her." Luke refilled her water glass without being asked. "Are you okay with Thursday?"
Grace considered. Six months ago, preparing to have dinner with the Bennetts would have meant armoring up and bracing for judgment.
Now it just meant deciding what to wear.
"Thursday's fine," she said.
Luke nodded, satisfied.
When the bill came, Luke took it without discussion and Grace sat back. She thought about the crooked railing on her porch that he'd fixed. The coffee maker that was his but lived on her counter. The drawer in the bedroom that had quietly become his without either of them marking the occasion.
The way she'd stopped saying my house without noticing. And started saying home. Their home.
Luke looked up and caught her watching.
"Now who's staring?" he said.
"I'm allowed," she said. "You're my boyfriend."
He stood, came around to her side of the table, and held out his hand.
Grace took it.
They walked out onto Main Street together, into the mild spring air.
Someone called out from across the street—congratulations, Councillor Hart—and Grace lifted her free hand in acknowledgment without breaking stride.
Luke's hand squeezed hers.
She leaned into him slightly as they walked, his shoulder warm and solid against hers.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked. "Walk by the lake? Or home?"
Grace thought about it for exactly one second.
"Home," she said.
Luke smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."