32. She Saw Her Happy Ending #2
Ruth’s lips curved in a calculated smile. “Have you shown Lola her surprise yet?”
My eyebrows popped up. “What surprise?”
Ruth chittered an evil laugh. “I’ll show you none of my business,” she muttered, giving the pot another stir like a witch brewing something wicked in her delicious chili cauldron. “I’ll have you pair married in no time.”
Aiden frowned at the back of her head. “Uh, yeah, a surprise.” He lifted his shoulder. “It’s just a little, um… Come on. I’ll show you.”
He led me through the kitchen, past Brooke’s colour-coded moving boxes lining the hallway, to the spare room door. His hand rested on the knob. He drew in a breath so deep, you’d think he was about to jump off a cliff.
“If you don’t like it, I can change it,” he said, nudging the door open.
I stepped inside.
My jaw dropped. “Wow.” This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. “Just… wow .”
The spare room had been turned into a library.
Not just any library—my dream library. Built-in shelves stretched to the ceiling, complete with a ladder for any hard-to-reach books at the top.
Pink curtains framed the window. A white sofa was nestled underneath, loaded with soft, squishy pillows, and a pink shag rug covered the battered wooden floor.
I wanted to spin and twirl like a girl in a teen movie montage. I wanted to drop onto that rug and make snow angels with my arms. The library was… perfect .
Aiden watched me cautiously from the corner of his eye. Why was he worried this time? Couldn’t he see how much I loved this room?
“It started with the bookcase in the middle,” he said. “The special project I was working on when you stayed with me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Once I knew this was the house you’d chosen and I got the measurements, I, uh… I guess I got a bit carried away.”
I shuffled to the wooden bookcase in the middle. It was different from the others. I pointed to it. “This is the one you started first?”
Aiden nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
My fingertips danced along the smooth top of the bookcase.
The other shelves were white and were a high-end, fancy design—probably the type Aiden installed for his business.
The middle one was long and low, made of striking red wood, its knotted top distinct and imperfect, yet somehow still beautiful.
Aiden had made that. No—he’d crafted that. All of it. For me.
Tears pricked my eyes. I lifted my glasses to scrub them away with my wrist. “Aiden, you’re so talented.”
He lifted a shoulder like the compliment was no big deal, but the tips of his ears burned red, so I knew it was.
“And you made all this?” I squeaked. “For me?”
“Not the sofa or the soft furnishings. Brooke helped me order those so they would get here in time. And Ryan helped me hide it all on the farm until moving day.”
My feet flew across the floor. Aiden’s hands shot out from his pockets just in time to catch me as I slammed into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tight, rising onto my toes, and kissing him until his breaths were ragged.
“I adore this,” I told him. “I adore you.”
His beard couldn’t hide the big white grin stretching across his face.
I walked around the room, touching all the new and pretty things. When I glanced at Aiden over my shoulder, he stood awkwardly by the door, hands back in his pockets, eyes on his shoes.
“Aiden, what Ruth said—”
“Ignore her. She has a terrible habit of always expecting to get her own way.”
“Are you upset that I want to keep living on my own?”
“Of course not.”
“And you know I didn’t make that decision because of you…or us? After Chris…”
After Chris, I was scared. I wanted the freedom to be myself and not worry about living under someone else’s rules every day.
Ruth was right—maybe it was a little silly.
Aiden and I were probably going to spend a lot of our nights together, but it was important to me that one of the options was my own house.
Not forever. But for now, at least.
Aiden didn’t need me to explain any of that.
He didn’t always say a lot, but there was a knowing in his eyes.
“Where we see each other or spend time together isn’t the important part.
Your house. My house.” He shrugged. “Maybe not that motel with only a microwave.” He grinned.
“All I need is you. Everything else, we can figure out along the way.”
“I like the sound of that.”
We didn’t speak anymore, just smiled and laced our fingers together as we headed down the hall, through the kitchen, and onto the back porch. Aiden’s hand slipped out of mine, and he grinned at me over his shoulder before hopping down the stairs to the yard.
I paused on the landing.
A fresh shimmer of tears blurred my eyes, but I didn’t blink them away. The feeling was perfect. A moment to be cherished. Everywhere I looked, I saw how much my life had changed.
I’d first set foot in Richmond seven months ago with one suitcase, wearing clothes that were almost rags, not a friend or even hope to my name.
But today…
Brooke perched on Harry’s lap on the bottom step. He nodded as she read out the long list of jobs on her clipboard. They were so young, so in love, glowing with the kind of happiness that made everything around them so much brighter.
My other protector, the farmer, unstacked a pile of outdoor chairs until Ruth’s cane clicked beside me.
Ryan jumped up the stairs two at a time to grab the plates and cups stuffed under her arm, and then, after offering her his hand, he carefully guided her down to the pavers.
She laughed, and when her head dropped to his shoulder, his face lit up like the sun.
An undeniable connection was building between them, too.
My parents stood with Yolanda, conspiring a trip to Cradle Mountain, and other friends crowded around the yard, sipping drinks and laughing, waving hello when they saw me.
And then there was him.
Aiden.
The man who gave me hope in those early days when I was still waking from a nightmare. The same man who shattered my heart then slowly, piece by piece, week by week, rebuilt what he’d broken, stronger than ever.
Watching Aiden reminded me of the morning we first met. He wore the same red-checked flannel shirt, and his dark brows furrowed to blot out the sun, but there was a lightness to the way he moved now. His past wasn’t crushing down on his shoulders anymore.
And when his gaze lifted, and he saw me still standing at the top of the stairs, he didn’t scowl.
He smiled and mouthed, “I love you.”
So much had changed. I had, too. Maybe to some people, I’d always be Lola from the City. But I wasn’t the newcomer anymore. And I’d never be an outsider again.
I could love. And I was loved in return.
My version of happily ever after.