Epilogue
Ben
The park in front of the river is all canvas and cables and people milling about.
Tents snap in the light breeze, fairy lights fight the late sun, and the first movie is about to start while everyone rushes to get their snacks and stake claim to their spots for the event.
Our booths make an L just like Paige sketched—Pint and Pastry, elbow to elbow. We stuck a little sign across the inside corner that says INTERMISSION LANE and painted a dumb arrow that points both ways. It keeps making people smile. That, and the smell.
On my side: two taps, a bucketed keg for samples, the nitro line, and a chalkboard that reads HR HERITAGE (Hoffman I grab the tap. “You got it.” I slide the pint across, take his cash, and he wanders toward the screen.
Paige bumps her hip to mine. “This is a great partnership,” she says, eyes bright. “We should do this on purpose more often. Not just festivals.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I say.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I turn to her with an idea I’ve been throwing around. “What if the wall between our places becomes a little less… wall?”
She tilts her head. “Define ‘less wall.’”
“A walkway,” I say. “Cut a clean pass-through between the Pint and Sweet Confessions. Shared promos, pairing nights, Snickerdoodle Shandies anytime. People flow both ways—pint to pastry, pastry to pint.”
Her smile climbs slow and wicked. “Intermission Lane, but permanent.”
“Exactly.”
She considers for half a heartbeat, then sticks out her hand like we’re closing a deal. “Let’s do it, Hoffman.”
I take her hand. “Deal, Richards.”
I use her hand to tug her back into my arms for that missed kiss.
The kiss starts sweet—public-facing, best-behavior—then goes a little sideways.
Her fingers slide into the hair at the back of my neck, I angle her closer, and my whole world narrows to feel of her tongue against mine.
The soft sound she makes that I’m pretty sure should be illegal within city limits.
Someone wolf-whistles from the lawn. A kid yells, “Get a room!” Paige laughs against my mouth, breathless, and taps my chest. “Work,” she reminds me, eyes bright and a little dazed.
“Right. Work,” I say, not moving for one extra second because I’m a slow learner.
We peel apart, still grinning like thieves who definitely didn’t get away with it, and turn back to our little booth. The projector shutters at the end of the movie, and there’s a break before the next one starts.
Our line starts to grow again.
I glance at Paige—my partner in business, my partner in life—and my chest tightens with a joy I never thought I’d get this lucky to feel.
Our companies are thriving, our baby’s on the way, and our future looks brighter than I ever imagined.
She grins at me, that spark in her eyes daring me to dream even bigger. And with her by my side, I know I will.
THE END