Epilogue
Theo
Three months later
“Can you grab the salsa?” Fable calls, stepping out the front door with one arm wrapped around a basket of chips and the other holding a platter of tortillas.
Balancing the salsa jar in my grip beside the fajitas, I follow her, stepping out into the warm summer evening.
In the grass before the A-frame are three long tables Dave and I built, full of people we love.
Our crew is too big to actually fit inside our finished cabin, but the weather’s perfect for an outdoor picnic.
Our parents are sitting together at one, quietly chatting (and probably scheming) about something. Finn and Millie are here, the latter sporting a shiny new rock on her finger that I got to see Finn give her in Italy last month.
Tessa, Mia, and Bree all flew in for the weekend, and even Maddox and Vivian and their boys have joined us.
Layla is running circles around the house with Avery and Eloise and Millie’s dog, Pepper, while Mr. Maxwell lounges on a plush porch chair and Knocks keeps tabs on everyone from the A-frame window.
It’s a perfect night, and at the center of it all is the woman of my dreams. The woman who showed me I didn’t have to be fixed to be loved. That I’m as safe with her as she is with me. And that our love is as steadfast and sturdy as our friendship.
She’s glowing in an orange sundress that showcases the flowers on her arm and my freckle nestled in the swell of her breasts.
I’m obsessed with this dress. I can’t wait to take it off her later.
After setting the salsa and fajitas down, I wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her into the air. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She grins, looping her arms around my neck. “Think we have everything?”
There’s an adoring aw beside us, and Mia says, “This is going in the group chat for sure.” I glance over to see her camera pointed in our direction.
“You know, we could be in the group chat now,” Fable points out.
“Nah.” Tessa sighs. “It’s way more fun to talk about you without you there.”
“Hold on, though.” Maddox raises a hand. “Can I get an invite?”
“Oh, for sure.” Tessa nods. “You, too, Vivian?”
Fable shakes her head and murmurs against my lips, “Might as well give them something to talk about.” And she kisses me again, igniting a burst of rowdy cheers and applause beside us.
Fable
Three more months later
“Come on! We’re going to be late!” I shout up to the loft.
“We have an hour,” Theo calls back. A drawer slides shut, followed by several footsteps, a door closing, and then he appears at the top of the stairs, buttoning up—
“A flannel? Really?” I pretend to be unimpressed. Secretly, though, I didn’t know it was possible to love an article of clothing more. There’s something about that plaid pattern stretched over his broad shoulders that really does it for me.
I’ve been stealing them for myself since he moved in. I’m pretty sure he knows.
Theo struts down, smug as ever. “This is my nice flannel, thank you very much.”
“For a wedding though?”
Coming to a stop in front of me in the kitchen, he finishes the bottom button. “They’re getting married in the gazebo downtown. Logan told me he’s wearing a flannel, and if the groom can wear one, I can too.” He points to my outfit. “Besides, it matches you perfectly.”
I look down at my dress—dark green with gold, yellow, and orange flowers. It’ll fit right in for a fall wedding. Arching a brow, I point to his maroon-and-gray shirt. “Oh yeah? There’s no maroon in my dress.”
His grin is slow and lavish as he reaches for the bottom hem of my dress. He slips his hand underneath, sliding up past my thigh-highs to twist his fingers in the lace at my hip. “We both know where the maroon is, sweetheart.”
My breath catches, cheeks flushing to match the color of my lingerie.
A smooth hum drifts from his chest, and he tugs the band higher up my hip. The shift pulls the lace tighter against me, pressing into my clit in a way that makes my legs falter. Heat pulses in my core, pounds through my blood. I lean back against the kitchen island to steady myself.
“You sure we don’t have a few extra minutes?
” he asks, shoving his thigh between mine, only increasing the pressure against my core.
“Because I’d sure love to spread you out on the counter.
” He lowers his mouth to my ear and murmurs, “Please. I want to sit through that wedding with the taste of you on my tongue.”
“Um . . .” My eyelids get heavy. I can’t stop myself from grinding against his thigh. “Maybe a few—”
I don’t even get the words out before his hands are around my waist, hoisting me onto the counter. My arousal flashes, hot and bright. He pushes me gently back to my elbows and flips my dress up to my hips, feasting with his eyes first.
“Hm.” There’s laughter in his tone as he slips his thumb beneath the lace to circle my swollen clit. “This where you want me, sweetheart?”
Too distracted by his thumb, all I can do is nod and let out a breathy moan.
His deep, knowing chuckle vibrates through me. Hands on my thighs, he splays me wide open. I whimper at the delicious stretch of my muscles. I’m trying my best to relax, but the anticipation is killing me.
He knows it, too, because he takes way too long teasing—rolling his fingers over my clit, breathing me in and blowing cool air across my heated skin. Slowly, he builds me up, plays with me, like we don’t have somewhere to be.
I’m whining and moaning and begging by the time he shoves the lace aside and slides his tongue where I need it.
A moan rattles out of him. “Fuck, I’m so addicted to this,” he murmurs, lapping at my arousal.
With a hand on my hip, he holds me in place and slips two fingers inside, working them in tandem with his mouth.
He’s eager. Thorough. Groaning and sucking like he can’t get enough.
I fall back, clawing at the counter, searching for something to hold on to.
I settle for a handful of his flannel and another of his hair, and a long, drawn-out “Fuck” rumbles over my clit.
The pressure building in my spine feels like it might split me apart. “Please,” I beg. “Yes. Right—”
I can’t even finish my words before I’m convulsing beneath him. With a strangled moan I tumble into ecstasy, pulsing around his fingers. He keeps working me, wrenching every bit of pleasure from my body until I melt against the cool counter.
My legs are still shaking when he helps me sit up. I reach for his belt buckle, but he stops me with a hand over mine.
“No, sweetheart. This was just a taste. I couldn’t make it through the wedding without it.” His eyes are flaming as he licks his lips. “The rest comes later. I want you desperate and thinking about it—fantasizing about it—all evening.”
I can’t even form a response before he slips the wet lace back into place, taunts me with one more lazy roll of his thumb, and pulls me down from the counter. “Come on, you tease. We’re going to be late,” he murmurs.
Theo
Three more months later
“Best behavior, okay?” I scoop up the tiny puppy from the passenger seat and hold her in front of my face. She plants a paw on my cheek, her glassy amber eyes staring back at me.
When Garrett and I bought the practice together a few months ago, we started regular visits to the shelter for spays and neuters.
This afternoon, a park ranger brought this little gal in after finding her in the nearby national park.
She’s about four months old—probably a beagle mix—with long, floppy ears and white and tan fur.
Sweet, cuddly, and kissable. I fell head-over-heels. Had to adopt her on the spot.
“She’s going to love you,” I assure her, tucking her under my chin and zipping up my jacket until only her little black nose is sticking out of the opening.
I wince against the cold wind as I walk to the house. But there’s a plume of smoke billowing out of the chimney, welcoming me to the warmth of the A-frame.
Layla’s the first to greet me after I kick off my boots.
She bounds over, immediately smelling our new family member and jumping up to investigate, tail wagging excitedly.
Knocks is probably off doing cat things—jumping to the top of the fridge or tumbling breakable shit to the ground—and couldn’t care less about my arrival.
But the family member I don’t see is . . . “Fabes?” I kick off my shoes by the door and readjust my coat companion.
“Uh . . . in here,” she calls, sounding very unsure about her answer.
“Where’s here, exactly?” There’s a small bang from the downstairs bathroom, so I start that way.
As I reach the closed door, Fable shouts, “Don’t come in!” Another bang and a scuffle, then a, “No, no, no. Please stay still.”
Layla shoves her nose to the bottom of the door and sniffs hard. Knocks must’ve gotten into something. I duck my chin and press a kiss to the little black puppy nose. “Need help?” I ask Fable.
“Nope! No!” Another crashing sound. “Shit.”
There’s a sudden ruckus in the living room, and I glance over to see Knocks leaping from the couch to the end table, making the lamp on its surface wobble.
Confused, I turn back to the bathroom door, lips parted to ask Fable who’s in there, when she stumbles out, barely opening the door before slamming it shut behind her.
Her hands are clasped under her chin, water splashed all over her sweatshirt, hair in a messy bun and cheeks flushed. “Listen. He was in the road, shivering and cold and dirty and I couldn’t leave him there, okay?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile.
“It’s winter, for crying out loud, and he’s old,” she continues. “We can—” Her words cut off when my coat companion lets out a whine and licks the bottom of my chin. Fable’s eyes go wide, mouth open in surprise. “What is that?”
I point toward the gray paw sticking out from under the bathroom door. “What is that?”
She bites her lips between her teeth before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god,” she gasps, dragging the zipper down to reveal the puppy. “Who are you? What are you? I love you!”
I reach around her to open the door, and a medium-size gray dog comes barreling out, shaking and flinging water droplets all over us and the walls. “Hey, buddy,” I greet, scratching him behind the ears as Layla gives him a once-over with her nose.
When I look up, Fable’s smile is bright and entirely too adorable. The little puppy is burrowing into her neck, her tail whipping happily. “So, we’re a family of six, now?”
Fable
Three more months later
The tulips are blooming right on time. Early morning sunshine glitters over the pink, yellow, orange, and lavender blossoms that line the storefront in long, rectangular planters. A bench sits on either side of the double doors, and a large green and white sign hangs overhead, reading OUR BOOKSHOP.
From across the street, I scan the building, checking to make sure everything is perfect for our grand opening.
The Thimbleberry Festival starts in a couple hours.
Down the street, a team of people is hanging a banner over the road while another group decorates the gazebo.
Vendors are setting up booths around the square; Theo, Garrett, and their volunteers are preparing for the adopt-a-thon; and the taco truck is pulling into place.
And our little bookshop is shining in the center of it all, ready for her debut.
It has turned into quite the family project—all hands on deck.
Theo and Dad helped with the renovations and construction.
Mom spent months planning the layout with me and scouring estate sales and auctions for every single thing we would put inside.
Millie and Finn have been an integral part of helping me pick out the perfect collection of books to stock.
Tessa stops in every bookstore she sees, sending me ideas and photos of things she likes, along with the contact information for every owner she meets, in hopes that we will become best friends.
Our logo, website, and social media accounts have all been designed and set up by Mia, and she sends me daily content ideas I need to start working on. Avery and Eloise made art and banners to decorate the shop walls and windows, and Barb has been on call for every question I could think of.
I couldn’t have done this without them. I used to think I needed to accomplish something all on my own to be proud of it, but I’ve learned my lesson—the sweetest victories are shared with the people you love.
My gaze catches on Theo as he steps out of Coffee Cottage. He walks toward me, eyes crinkling, with two cups in his hands, and that boyish grin curving his mouth.
His attention is pure sunshine, lighting me up and making me glow.
“Hey, sweetheart. How ya feeling?” He offers me a warm cup before looping an arm around my shoulder and tucking me to his side.
How am I feeling? I take a sip of tea and inventory my emotions.
I’m excited, terrified, overwhelmed, relieved, giddy.
And sad, I think. Sad Gramps didn’t get to see his dream come true.
That he isn’t here in his newsboy cap to take a photo with me in front of our bookshop.
That I don’t get to witness the awe in his expression as people step into the place he dreamt of.
That he won’t get to see all our framed photos decorating the walls inside.
My shoulders hitch as I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes, sending a message right from my heart to Gramps’s. This is it. We did it.
“He’d be proud of you,” Theo whispers. “I’m also proud of you.” He turns us to face each other, his big hand tucked under my hair, a steady weight against the back of my neck. “I knew you could do it.”
My smile is watery. “Good thing one of us was sure.”
His thumb glides over my jaw. “Never doubted you for a second.”
Yips and barks sound from the town square, drawing our focus to where a little boy is reaching into the fence of puppies, trying to pet them all at once. One side of the gate gives way, and a tumble of puppies pours from the opening.
“I’d better go supervise,” Theo says with a laugh. “But once the adoption event is over, I’m all yours.”
“You’re all mine, anyway,” I remind him.
He smiles, all dimples and charm. “From the moment you walked into math class.”