Epilogue
JONNY
Two years later
It’s Christmas Eve and the first night of Hanukkah, one of those rare times when the two holidays overlap, and I’m headed to Azalea with Shira.
“You feeling okay, love?” I ask, looking over at her in the passenger seat.
She’s seemed tense this whole drive, but the closer we get, the more her knee bounces. “Yeah. I’m good,” she says.
I lace my fingers with hers, hoping to ease her nerves. It’s our third time doing Hanukkah and Christmas celebrations in Azalea, but I guess this year is a little different, now that we’re co-owners of Azalea’s newest business venture.
“I’ll be right by your side,” I say, lifting her hand and pressing it to my lips. “Always.”
She takes a deep breath. “I know.”
The diamond ring burning a hole in my pocket will hopefully make that “always” official. Mine. The word that started as a quiet hope two years ago, a whispered wish to the universe that somehow, miraculously, came true.
It’s been a wild ride to get here, compared to that Christmas morning when I raced to the airport with no plan except to tell her how I felt.
At first, everything between us was shiny, exciting…
and complicated. She stayed in Azalea for a few extra days before heading back to Chicago, and I spent the next several weeks ping-ponging between my parents’ house and her apartment.
Traveling back and forth was exhausting, but it was worth it.
Our time together was magical, getting to know each other better, driving each other crazy in the bedroom—then staying up late sketching renovation ideas and dreaming bigger than either of us would’ve dared alone.
Falling in love a little more every day.
Shira was hesitant to just up and quit her job, which I understood, especially since Conor finally gave her that long-deserved promotion. But by December of last year, we knew our relationship was solid, and it was clear the renovation needed our full attention. So she quit.
By then, I was practically living in her apartment and flying to Texas every couple of weeks, which wasn’t sustainable.
That’s when the real question hit: where should we settle?
We were both ready to put down roots somewhere, but as much as we love Azalea, we’re city people at heart.
Dallas ended up being the perfect spot—it has a thriving Jewish community, and it’s close enough to Azalea while also giving us our own space. The best of both worlds.
Waking up next to Shira every morning never gets old—even though she steals the covers, puts way too many throw pillows on the couch, and leaves strands of her hair all over.
And now, I’m so excited to ask her to marry me, I can hardly drive straight.
It shouldn’t be a total surprise to her—hell, I started dropping hints six months after we met, until she flat-out told me to slow the fuck down.
She said she wanted to live together for at least a year before getting engaged.
She also reminded me that the anticipation is part of the magic.
But that one-year mark passed last week, and I’m not about to wait any longer to put a ring on it.
“Can we stop by the bookstore on the way?” Shira asks as we head through town.
I glance over at her. “It’s almost sundown.”
“I’ll make it quick.” Her eyes go wide. “Please?”
“Of course.” I give her hand another squeeze. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nods, but she looks pale, and now I’m a little nervous. Did she somehow figure out what I’m planning?
My shoulders tense as I turn into the parking lot of the textile factory, now renamed The Old Mill.
The grand opening was on December 1st, and it’s been non-stop busy ever since.
As we enter the building, a wave of satisfaction hits me, even though everything is closed now.
We did it; we created the dream we started brainstorming on our way home from the airport on Christmas Day, two years ago.
There’s no way I could’ve done it without Shira.
She likes to say we were equal partners, but all I did was put up the money. She brought all the magic.
The bookstore sits at the heart of the main floor, flanked by several permanent shops for local businesses, with a few other spaces that rotate seasonally, as well as office space on the second floor and condos on the third.
Shira has been an essential partner in all of it, but the bookstore is her special project.
She personally designed the layout, hired every bookseller, and hand-selected the stock.
She makes the drive up several times a week, connecting with customers and making sure everything is perfect.
We named it The Book Haven, and that’s exactly what it’s become.
More than just a place to buy books—though plenty of that happened this month—it’s a hub of life and laughter.
Parents bring their kids for story time, a group of older ladies meets every Sunday afternoon for coffee and conversation, and teenagers swing by after school to hang out.
It’s alive in a way I never imagined, already essential to the town, and I can’t wait to watch it flourish even more in the years to come.
“Hey there,” a voice calls, and I look up to see Alan Larson moseying through the hall. He and his wife opened a stationary and candle shop two doors down from the bookstore. “Congrats on all the success! It’s been a good opening month. Always knew you had it in you.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling. The people of Azalea have surprised me with their support. Shira says all I had to do was give them the chance to get to know the new me, but I’m pretty sure they only put up with me because they adore her.
“I’ll be right back,” Shira says, giving me a brief smile. “I just need to wrap a gift.”
After she disappears into the bookstore, I chat with Mr. Larson about a few ideas he has for increasing foot traffic at The Mill, until Shira calls for me. “Jonny, can you come in here?”
I head into the darkened shop, where she’s standing by the register with a wrapped gift in her hands, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Here,” she says, thrusting the box at me.
I glance at her, eyebrows raised. “But…we’re doing presents tonight and tomorrow morning, right?”
“I want you to open this one now. Please?”
Still confused, I take the package from her. It’s wrapped in gold paper and tied with a white velvet ribbon. “Fancy,” I murmur.
“Don’t you dare drag this out,” she warns.
I slowly slide my finger under a taped edge, teasing her, until I see how nervous she looks. Then my stomach knots up. I rip off the paper, open the box, and—
My heart stops beating.
Two books I recognize from the bookstore’s children’s section are nestled inside: Baby’s First Hanukkah. Baby’s First Christmas.
My heart slams back into rhythm, hard and fast. I can’t move, can’t speak. Can hardly breathe.
“Jonny?”
Shira’s voice cuts through the daze, soft and trembling.
“A baby?” I whisper, looking at her.
She’s standing there with her hands knotted together.
“I—I’ve been kind of tired but I assumed it was just the stress of the store opening, but then I realized I’d missed my period a while back, so I took a test this morning and…
and it was positive.” One hand lightly goes to her lower belly.
“I couldn’t wait another minute without you knowing, too.
I know we didn’t plan for this yet, but it happened, and I hope—”
I scoop her into my arms, lifting her off her feet. She lets out a startled yelp as I spin her around.
When I set her down, I stare at her, still stunned. “A baby?”
“Is that…okay?” Her expression is half-nervous, half-hopeful.
My plans for later go out the window. I drop to my knees in front of her, hands shaking so hard I can barely get the ring box out of my pocket. Taking a steadying breath, I flip it open and look up at her. She’s gazing down at me, eyes wide, lips parted.
“I was going to do this tonight,” I say, “but I can’t think of a better time and place than right here, right now. Because as we know, sometimes life gives you exactly what you need before you even realize you’re ready, right?”
She nods, letting out a shaky exhale.
“I had a whole speech planned,” I admit, “but I forgot every word of it. So you’ll have to trust me that it was going to be epic.”
That earns a watery laugh, and her eyes fill with tears.
I exhale, trying to find the right words.
“It’s kind of perfect that the first time I saw you was on Thanksgiving, because you give me a new reason to be thankful every single day.
Shira, you’re my favorite person on the planet.
You’ve shown me how it feels to be truly loved.
You’ve made me want to plant some roots and grow into someone better than I’ve been.
And now you’re growing my second favorite person on the planet—half you, half me, though hopefully mostly you. ”
She lets out another soft laugh as a few tears roll down her cheeks.
I swallow, my own eyes stinging. “Shira Schwartz, love of my life, will you marry me?”
Now Shira’s crying too hard to speak, but she’s nodding, and then we’re kissing, and as I pull her close, it hits me: I’m holding my entire world in my arms. Our own little family.
I could’ve stayed wrapped up with Shira in our own little bubble for the next few hours, but we have places to go and people to see.
We arrive at the town square a few minutes after sundown, a little late, but we both needed a moment to regroup.
Shira’s nerves have melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that shines like the diamond ring on her finger.
People greet her everywhere we go—handshakes, hugs, cheerful hellos—and I’m so proud my chest might burst. Never in my life have I felt this lucky.