Epilogue
Lucy
Two weeks later, I'm at the shop when my phone rings. Ryder's face fills the screen, and my heart does that stupid flutter it always does when I see him.
"Hey," I answer, grinning.
"Hey yourself. What are you wearing?"
I look down at my Frost & Ivy polo and jeans. "Why?"
"Because I'm about to walk through your door in approximately thirty seconds, and I want to make sure you're prepared."
I freeze. "What?"
"Surprise," he says, and then I hear the shop door chime.
I spin around. There he is, phone to his ear, duffel bag over his shoulder, that crooked smile on his face.
"You're early," I manage.
"Couldn't wait." He drops the bag and crosses to me. "Two weeks was too long."
Then he's kissing me in the middle of my shop, in front of the handful of customers who definitely recognize him, and I don't care. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, and when we finally break apart, someone's definitely taking pictures.
"You're insane," I whisper.
"About you." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Always."
And standing there in my shop with his arms around me and customers pretending not to stare, I realize this is it. This is what home feels like. Not a place. Not even a person. But the choice to keep choosing each other, over and over, no matter how hard it gets.
"I love you," I tell him.
"Love you too, Luce." He kisses my forehead. "Now show me what you've done with the place. I want to hear everything."
So I do. I show him the new spring display, the updated schedule, the book club signup sheet. And he listens like every detail matters, because to him, it does.
Later, after the shop closes and we're curled up on my couch with takeout, I ask him how long he can stay.
"Four days," he says. "Then back to Boston for a week, then back here for another three."
"And we just keep doing this? Back and forth until the season ends?"
"Yeah." He pulls me closer. "Is that okay?"
I think about the past two weeks. The lonely nights and the constant texting and the way my heart leaped when I saw his name on my phone. I think about four more months of this, of missing him and waiting for him and building a relationship in the spaces between.
"It's more than okay," I tell him. "It's worth it."
"You're worth it."
He kisses me again, slow and thorough, and I lose myself in the taste of him. In the solid weight of him beside me. In the knowledge that he's here now, and that's what matters.
The distance will be hard. The schedule will be brutal. The media attention will be overwhelming.
But we'll figure it out.
Because that's what love is. Choosing each other. Fighting for each other. Showing up over and over until the hard parts get easier.
And right now, with Ryder's arms around me and snow falling outside and the future stretching bright ahead of us, I've never been more sure of anything in my life.
This is real.
We're real.
And we're worth every risk.
You've seen them fall in love. Now see them live it.