Chapter 31 #2
"I would have been. Before." I gesture vaguely, encompassing Oregon, Elliot, the whole mess we've just emerged from. "But things are different now. I'm different."
"You are," she agrees, studying my face. "I've never seen you like this. Even before Elliot, you were always… careful. Contained."
I laugh softly. "Paranoid, you mean."
"Cautious," she corrects with a smile. "But now you seem…"
"Free," I supply. The word feels right on my tongue, new but fitting.
Rowan nods, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Exactly."
We work in companionable silence for a few minutes, me counting the register while she sweeps. Poppy sleeps in her playpen in the corner, exhausted from the trip and the excitement of being back in familiar surroundings.
"So," Rowan says finally, leaning on her broom. "When are you going to admit it?"
I look up from the cash drawer. "Admit what?"
Her expression is knowing, almost smug. "That you're in love with him."
The bills in my hand suddenly feel very interesting. I focus on straightening them, aligning the edges with precise movements. "It's complicated."
"Bullshit," she says cheerfully. "It's the least complicated thing in your life right now."
I glance at her, then away. "We've only known each other a few months."
"So? Mom and Dad got engaged after six weeks."
"And look how that turned out," I mutter.
Rowan shakes her head. "Dad being a commitment-phobic asshole has nothing to do with how quickly they fell in love. The love part was real."
She's right, of course. Our parents' love was like a lightning strike, sudden, intense, transformative. The fact that our father couldn't sustain it doesn't negate how real it was.
"I'm scared," I admit finally, the words barely audible.
Rowan abandons her broom, coming around the counter to stand beside me. "Of what? That he'll leave? That man looks at you like you hung the moon, Sadie."
"Not that he'll leave," I say slowly, trying to articulate the fear that's been lurking beneath the surface. "That it won't last. That I'll wake up one day and all of this will be gone. That I'll never really get to have this kind of happiness."
"Ah," Rowan says softly. "You're waiting for the other shoe to drop."
I nod, relieved that she understands.
"Here's the thing about shoes," she says, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Eventually, you have to stop waiting for them to drop and just enjoy walking in them."
A laugh escapes me. "That's a terrible metaphor."
"But accurate," she insists. "You're allowed to be happy, Sadie. You're allowed to build a life that isn't defined by what you're running from."
"I know that. Logically, I know that."
"But your heart hasn't caught up yet," she finishes for me.
I nod again, blinking back unexpected tears.
"Well, let me tell you something," Rowan says, turning to face me fully.
"I've watched you for months, always looking over your shoulder, always waiting for disaster. And you know what? Disaster came—and you faced it. You survived it. You won."
She takes my hands in hers, her grip warm and strong. "You don't need me here as a safety net anymore. You've got this. You've got Poppy. And you've got a man who would move mountains for you both."
The tears spill over now, tracking silently down my cheeks. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise," she says with a grin. "You were just too stubborn to notice."
I laugh through my tears, letting her pull me into a tight hug. We stand like that for a long moment, swaying slightly in the quiet café. Sisters. Survivors. Together but no longer dependent.
When we pull apart, Rowan wipes her own eyes. "So," she says briskly, "are you going to say it out loud, or do I need to drag it out of you?"
I take a deep breath, the words rising to my lips with surprising ease. "I love him."
"There," she says, satisfied. "Was that so hard?"
"Actually, no." And it's true. The words feel right, natural. Not frightening at all. "I love him," I repeat, stronger this time.
"And does he know that?"
I think of the night in the hotel room, of whispered confessions between desperate kisses. Of the way he held me after, like I was something precious, irreplaceable. "Yes. He knows."
"Good." Rowan picks up her broom again, resuming her sweeping with a pleased expression. "Because if I'm moving to Denver, I need to know someone's looking after my little sister."
"I can look after myself," I point out, but there's no heat in it.
"Of course you can. But it's nice not to have to, isn't it?"
I think about Axel, about his steady presence, his quiet strength, the way he supports without controlling. About how, for the first time in my adult life, I'm not carrying everything alone.
"Yeah," I admit softly. "It is."
The bell over the door chimes, and I look up to see Axel standing there, freshly showered, a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. His eyes find mine immediately, lighting up like a little kid at the candy store.
"Hey," he says, smiling that crooked smile that never fails to make my stomach flip. "I know I'm early, but I couldn't wait."
Rowan catches my eye, her expression smug.
"And on that note, I think I'll head out. Poppy and I have a date with some ice cream." She scoops up my still-sleeping daughter with practiced ease.
"We'll be at my place whenever you two are… done."
She winks at me as she passes, pausing to murmur something to Axel that makes him laugh. Then she's gone, the bell chiming again as the door closes behind her.
Axel crosses to me, offering the wildflowers with a slightly self-conscious smile. "I saw these on the way over and thought of you."
I take them, burying my nose in the blooms to hide the ridiculously wide smile I can't seem to control. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
"You're beautiful," he counters, his fingers brushing mine as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
The words rise to my lips again, natural as breathing. "I love you."
His eyes widen slightly, like he wasn't expecting to hear it here, now, in the quiet of the café with evening sunlight streaming through the windows. Then his face breaks into a smile so bright it's almost blinding.
"I love you too," he says, drawing me into his arms. "So damn much."
As his lips meet mine, I realize Rowan was right. I don't need to wait for the other shoe to drop. I don't need to brace for disaster. I just need to be here, now, in this moment with this man who loves me, all of me, even the broken parts, even the scared parts.
For the first time in years, maybe in my entire life, I feel something unfamiliar sink into my bones. Not fear, not vigilance, not the constant need to run.
Peace.
As I melt into his kiss, I forget about the café around us, the half-finished closing tasks, everything except the feel of his lips against mine. When we finally break apart, I'm breathless and a little dizzy.
"I should finish closing up," I murmur, reluctant to step out of his embrace.
"Let me help," he offers, already rolling up his sleeves. "Then I want to show you something."
There's something in his tone, a hint of anticipation, of planning, that makes my pulse quicken. "Show me what?"
His smile is enigmatic, a little secretive. "It's a surprise. Trust me?"
"Yes," I answer without hesitation, surprising myself with how easily the word comes.
We work side by side, finishing the closing routine in comfortable silence.
His movements sync with mine naturally, as if we've been doing this together for years instead of minutes.
When I reach for the mop, he's already filled the bucket with hot water.
When he wipes down the espresso machine, I'm ready with a dry cloth to polish it.
"We make a good team," he says, his eyes soft as he watches me lock the register.
"We do," I agree, feeling a flutter in my stomach at the simple truth of it.
When everything is done, Axel takes my hand, intertwining our fingers as I flip off the lights and lock the door behind us. Instead of heading toward his truck, he tugs me gently in the opposite direction.
"This way," he says, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
The evening air is warm, fragrant with summer blooms and the lingering scent of someone's barbecue. Main Street is quiet at this hour, most shops closed, only the diner and the brewery showing signs of life. Axel leads me past them all, toward the small park at the edge of town.
"Where are we going?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Patience," he teases, squeezing my hand. "Almost there."
As we round the corner, I see it, a small gazebo at the edge of the park, usually plain and unadorned, now transformed.
Tiny white lights twinkle along its railings, reflecting off the small pond beyond.
A table for two sits in the center, set with what looks like real dishes, not paper plates.
A bottle chills in an ice bucket beside it.
"What is this?" I whisper, stopping in my tracks.
Axel turns to face me, taking both my hands in his. "This is me saying thank you."
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For letting me be part of your life. For showing me what matters." His voice is steady but full of emotion. "I've never done anything like this before. Never wanted to."
He leads me up the steps into the gazebo, and I see the table is set with beautiful china, crystal glasses that catch the light, fresh flowers that match the bouquet he brought to the café.
"You did all this while I was closing up?" I ask, amazed.
He shakes his head, smiling. "I had some help. Turns out your sister is pretty good at following instructions when properly motivated."
I laugh, picturing Rowan stringing up fairy lights while giving Axel a hard time. "So that's what she whispered to you."
"That—and a fairly graphic threat about what happens if I mess this up." His smile turns rueful. "Your sister is… protective."
"She approves of you, though," I tell him, watching his eyes light up at this information. "She wouldn't have helped otherwise."