Smore Than Perfect
S'MORE THAN PERFECT
EPILOGUE - ELLIE
Three months later, I'm standing at the edge of the same bonfire site where Nate and I first connected. The autumn chill has given way to winter's bite, but tonight is surprisingly mild for December, as if the weather itself is celebrating with us.
"You sure you're not cold?" Nate appears beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist from behind. His warmth seeps through my sweater, and I lean back against his solid chest.
"I'm perfect," I murmur, covering his hands with mine. "Though I wouldn't say no to some hot chocolate later."
"With those tiny marshmallows you hide in the back of your pantry?" His breath tickles my ear.
I turn in his arms, mock outrage on my face. "You found my secret stash?"
"Baker, I know all your hiding spots by now." His smile transforms his face, reaching all the way to his eyes in a way that makes my stomach do a little flip. "Including that tin of shortbread behind the flour canisters that you think I don't know about."
The bonfire crackles and pops, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. Around us, the fundraiser for the fire department's winter coat drive is in full swing. Children roast marshmallows under careful supervision, while adults chat over cups of mulled cider. My cupcake stand—now featuring winter-themed treats—has been cleared out, save for the special box I set aside for later.
A familiar bark draws my attention, and I see Cooper bounding toward us through the crowd, his leash trailing behind him. He must have slipped away from Nate's friend who was watching him. His tail wags frantically as he reaches us, circling our legs in excited greeting before sitting at my feet, looking up expectantly.
"Someone missed you," Nate laughs, reaching down to scratch behind Cooper's ears. "Can't say I blame him."
I crouch down to Cooper's level, accepting his enthusiastic face licks with a laugh. "Hey, buddy. Don't worry, I didn't forget about you." I pull a small treat from my pocket—a homemade dog biscuit shaped like a star that I'd baked this morning. His gentle take of the treat from my palm makes my heart swell. In these past months, Cooper has become as much mine as Nate's, his unconditional affection a daily reminder of how love should be—straightforward and without judgment.
"Remember the first time we were here?" I ask, rising to my feet and watching the flames dance. "I was such a mess."
"You were magnificent," Nate corrects, tucking a curl behind my ear. "Covered in frosting, cursing under your breath, and still managing to make the best damn cupcakes I'd ever tasted."
"Such a charmer." I poke his chest gently.
"Just honest." He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Come on, I've got something to show you."
He leads me away from the crowd, Cooper trotting faithfully alongside us, to a quieter spot where a smaller fire pit glows. A blanket is spread nearby, with two long roasting sticks and a bag of premium marshmallows waiting.
"What's this?" I ask, though warmth spreads through me at his thoughtfulness.
"I figured we could use a moment away from the chaos." He gestures for me to sit, then settles beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. Cooper circles twice before curling up at our feet, his head resting on his paws, but his eyes alert and watchful. "Plus, I've been told my marshmallow-roasting technique is superior to all others."
"Is that so?" I laugh, accepting the stick he hands me. "Pretty confident for someone who burns toast."
"Toast and marshmallows are completely different skill sets," he protests, spearing a marshmallow with practiced precision. "Watch and learn."
I watch him rotate the marshmallow with patient, methodical turns, keeping it just above the flames. His firefighter's knowledge of heat management pays off—the marshmallow turns a perfect golden brown, no charring in sight.
"Impressive," I admit, attempting to mimic his technique with my own marshmallow. Mine catches fire almost immediately.
"Rookie mistake." He grins, helping me blow out the flame. "You're too eager. Some things need time."
The double meaning isn't lost on me. We've taken our time these past months, building something real between us. No rushing, no pressure—just steady growth, like bread rising in a warm kitchen.
"I like burnt marshmallows anyway," I declare, blowing on the blackened sugar. "The contrast between the burnt outside and gooey inside is what makes it interesting."
Nate's eyes soften as he watches me. "That's what I love about you, Ellie. You find beauty in imperfection."
"Takes one to know one," I tease, nudging his shoulder with mine.
He pulls his perfectly roasted marshmallow from the fire, offering it to me instead of taking it for himself. "Try a properly roasted one first, then decide."
I lean forward, taking a bite directly from his stick. The marshmallow is perfection—crisp outside, molten inside, sweet without being cloying.
"Okay, you win," I concede, licking sugar from my lips. "That's pretty amazing."
"See? Sometimes patience pays off." His voice has dropped lower, his eyes fixed on my mouth.
Cooper suddenly sits up, ears perked, his attention shifting to something behind us. The fire pops loudly, sending a shower of sparks upward. In their brief, brilliant light, I see Nate's expression shift to something more serious.
"What is it?" I ask, suddenly nervous without knowing why.
He sets down his roasting stick and takes both my hands in his. "Ellie, these past months with you have been the happiest of my life."
My heart begins to race. "Mine too."
"I've spent my career rushing into burning buildings, but nothing scared me more than the thought of never finding someone who made me feel the way you do." His thumbs trace circles on my palms, the slight twinge in his shoulder no longer bothering him as much as it once did. "With you, I'm not just fine—I'm alive. Completely, fully alive."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Nate..."
"You once told me you weren't enough. But Ellie, you're everything—more than enough, more than I ever dreamed possible." He releases one of my hands to reach into his pocket, and my breath catches as he pulls out a small velvet box.
The world narrows to just us, the crackling fire, and the small box in his hand. Cooper seems to sense the importance of the moment, sitting perfectly still beside us, his warm presence a comforting anchor. Nate opens the box to reveal a ring that catches the firelight—a simple band with a single stone that seems to hold the flames within it.
"I don't want to just taste happiness with you, Ellie. I want to savor it for the rest of our lives." His voice is steady but filled with emotion. "Will you marry me?"
For a moment, I can't speak, overwhelmed by the certainty I feel. All my life, I've questioned my worth, wondered if I deserved to be loved completely. But looking into Nate's eyes, I finally believe it.
"Yes," I whisper, then louder, "Yes, absolutely yes!"
His smile is brilliant as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there.
I throw my arms around his neck, nearly knocking him backward as I kiss him. He steadies us both, one hand at my waist, the other cradling my face like I'm something precious.
Cooper, unable to contain his excitement any longer, jumps up with a joyful bark, circling us with his tail wagging wildly. He presses against our legs, trying to join the embrace in his own canine way. We both laugh, making room for him in our circle. Nate scratches Cooper's head affectionately.
"I think he approves," Nate says, his voice thick with emotion.
"Of course he does," I reply, reaching down to pet Cooper as well. "He knew we belonged together before we did."
Cooper looks up at us with those soulful brown eyes, and I swear he's smiling. From the very beginning, he'd been our matchmaker, his simple, honest affection bringing us together in ways even Krissa and Zara couldn't have planned.
Against the backdrop of flames and winter stars, I've never felt more certain of anything: this is where I belong. Not just in Nate's arms, but in my own skin—imperfections, quirks, and all. With my firefighter and his loyal dog, I've found not just love, but home.
Cooper barks once more, as if sealing the moment, before settling contentedly at our feet. The three of us stay there, bathed in firelight, our little family complete.
"I love you," Nate murmurs against my hair. "Both of you."
I smile, leaning into his embrace as Cooper rests his head on my knee. "We love you too."
And we do. Completely, messily, perfectly—just like a perfectly toasted s'more.