19. Epilogue
“Bakers, you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep these renovations a secret, and I am so excited to finally unveil the new Kingston’s Bakery!” I grin wide at the camera, trying not to let my panic show.
It’s not so much the opinions of my viewers that worry me but those of the man whose happiness matters more to me than anything. If he doesn’t like the new look to the bakery, it might devastate me. I would have preferred to do the reveal off camera, but after the way King took the country by storm when the “Lane versus King” episode aired, the network made me an offer that was too good to refuse.
They paid for all of the renovations in exchange for moving Home Baked to here in Willow Cove. As it turns out, most of the viewers were outraged when Lane went off book and dumped me, and there was even a petition at one point to bring me back and get rid of Lane. After the way he acted when he showed up to get me back, the network fired him quickly.
He’ll be fine. He still has his bakery chain, though I did some digging and discovered his sales are way down since I left. I’ve tried to feel sorry for him, but I can’t.
When the network first asked if I would come back to New York to save the show, I told them no even though King tried to change my mind. It was only when they offered to move the show to South Carolina so I could stay at home that I agreed, and it has been a wild six months.
The renovations have all happened over the last few weeks of November and December, and contractually I couldn’t tell anyone about what was happening inside until this big reveal. Keeping it all a secret has quite possibly been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My husband has a knack for convincing me to do anything he wants, and he nearly got me to spill the beans a time or two with his skills of persuasion.
I don’t know where that man learned to kiss, but he’s dangerous.
I move to the door, which is decked out in Christmas lights and holly, and send another smile to the camera. “Of course, I can’t do this without my main man.” I hold out my hand, which is King’s cue to join me in the shot. We had to practice this part half a dozen times this morning because he kept ignoring the stage direction to kiss my cheek and kept going for a kiss that is definitely not appropriate for family television.
Thankfully, he does as he was told this time and presses his lips to my cheek. But the look in his eyes tells me just how much he would rather go with his version than keep things PG.
Knowing I’m blushing bright red, I give him a quick scolding scowl and then turn to the camera again. “As you know, King’s uncle is the one who started Kingston’s and taught me everything I know, so I wanted to make sure I honored his memory. Our family has suffered a lot of loss over the years, but the best part about good food is the memories that come with it.” I turn to King. “Are you ready to see the new Kingston’s?”
I’m not sure I’m ready, but King nods and threads his fingers through mine. “I trust you,” he whispers.
“I love you,” I whisper back.
After making sure the camera crew is ready to go, I push open the bakery door and flip on the lights.
Though the lobby is decorated for Christmas, I tried to keep it subtle so King—and my viewers—could still see the full scope of the new bakery. The walls, once a dark and almost gloomy green, are now a cheery off-white that makes the whole place feel brighter. The haphazard metal tables and booths have been replaced by tall round tables and a few long wood tables for bigger groups, and there’s a bar-height counter running along the windows so customers can enjoy buttery pastries with a view of the ocean. String lights crisscross overhead, and the menu still has a handwritten chalkboard feel but is now digital so it’s easy to change. Beck did an amazing job with these renovations, and the bakery feels even more like home than it did before.
I know the instant King sees the photos because his arms wrap around me from behind, his hold tighter than it needs to be.
The wall of photos, which before had been an unorganized assortment taped to the wall, is now a collection of framed pictures strung up along the whole upper edge of the walls. I printed some of them bigger, like the one of me when I was thirteen or fourteen and getting my first taste of working in the kitchen with Bill. I enlarged the one of King and Bill with their surfboards as well. My favorite picture is one I hadn’t even realized existed until I found it tucked in the back of a drawer in the office, and that one has its own spot behind the front counter.
“I wanted to make sure everyone knows how special Kingston’s is,” I say, as much to King as to the camera. “This bakery is about family and always has been, and I hope everyone who comes here can feel that.”
The photo is of the day the bakery first opened. Bill is standing in front of the door, a wide grin on his face. Next to him, his younger brother has an arm around his pretty wife, who holds a toddler no older than two. King. Below the photo is a brief history of Uncle Bill’s journey to opening his bakery, from a small-town boy who started baking the family bread after his parents died, to the man who gave me the world when he agreed to let a scrawny thirteen-year-old spend her summers working instead of playing on the beach.
“No matter where you are or what your family looks like,” I say to the camera, though it’s harder to get the words out because I can feel King’s emotions overflowing as his hold grows even tighter, “there’s something special about the kitchen. It’s a gathering place, and no one has ever been sad when sharing pastries with the people they love. Am I right?”
“I always love when you share your snickerdoodles,” King pipes in, right on cue. He adds a kiss to my neck, which was not part of the script, but I’ll allow it.
“That’s because you’re terrible at making them yourself,” I say with a laugh. “And if you’re ever in the kitchen, I’m always in danger of getting a faceful of cake batter and an impossible mess to clean up.”
He shrugs, turning his gaze to the camera. I hope he winks and sends women everywhere swooning, but I can’t see him. “What can I say? There are few things more attractive than Georgie in a kitchen. She’s almost as irresistible as her baking.”
I laugh. “Speaking of baking, I can’t wait to show you my new kitchen. It is absolutely gorgeous!”
By the time filming is done and the bakery is locked up for the day, I want nothing more than to head home and crash. But the bakery reveal was not the only thing I planned for today, so instead of following King to his truck, I tug him farther down the boardwalk. “I have a surprise for you,” I explain.
“I like surprises better when they’re at home.”
“You’ll like this one.” At least, I hope he will.
I keep dragging him with me until we reach the dock where Coop is leaning against his plane.
“I wondered if you were going to show up,” Coop says, though his irritation is clearly feigned.
King furrows his brow. “I’m not sure any surprise that involves Coop is something I’ll like.”
“Ha! Good one. You almost sound serious. Now, I don’t have all day, so all aboard or forever hold your peace.”
We’re quiet as the plane rumbles over the Atlantic, but the closer we get to the island, the more King starts to recognize where we are. He grabs my hand when the tiny island comes into view, but I think he’s afraid to look at me. I’m not sure what horrible thing he thinks might happen this time around, but I’m determined to take the bad memories of this place and turn them into better ones.
Coop smoothly lands the plane in the water and gets us as close to the beach as he can right as the sun starts sinking on the western horizon. The winter clouds glow orange and pink, and I couldn’t have planned a better night for this. I thought about saving this for Christmas, but I couldn’t wait two more weeks.
Before we get too far up the beach, Coop shouts after us. “Just your friendly reminder that I’ve got things to do and places to be, so I will not wait around for hours while you two fool around in the jungle.” He points at me in warning. “And you,” he says to King. “I intend to leave with as many passengers as I brought with me, and I will not be blackmailed into leaving anyone behind in case you decide you need to even the score.”
King looks at me, one eyebrow higher than the other. “Are you ever going to tell me what dirt you have on Coop?”
“Oh, it’s so good! But if I tell you now, I can’t use it against him later.”
His smile turns mischievous. “I’ve got plenty of other info we could use. You should tell me.”
I laugh. “Later. I only have so much time to get this right if we don’t want to end up stranded.”
I’m not about to take Coop’s warning lightly. He’s got himself a wife now who, according to him, irritates him to no end, but he seems happy. And I’m sure he’s eager to get back to her.
If I had more time, I would take a little path through the trees that leads to a gorgeous waterfall, which is where things went down the last time we were here, but I’ll content myself with the beach bathed in the golden glow of sunset.
Taking my spot in front of King, I drop to one knee.
Both his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you’re actually—”
“Hush, Kingston. It’s been ten years, three months, and fourteen days that I’ve owed you this, so let me get it all out, okay?”
He nods, a smile playing on his lips.
I take a steadying breath. “You were my first date. My first kiss. The first boy who made me think I knew what love felt like. When you’re young, everything feels bigger than it is, and my feelings for you were so overwhelming that I barely knew what to do with them. And when you promised me forever, that felt…” I shrug. “It felt too big. And I was scared. So I ran away and didn’t look back, and I have regretted it ever since.”
His smile shifts into one of empathy. “Georgie, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not done, Royal, so close that beautiful mouth of yours and let me finish.” I huff a sigh of frustration, struggling to remember what I was planning to say next. Adding this speech on top of the episode was a bad idea, but it’s too late to go back so I press forward. “I have regretted a lot of things in my life, especially settling for anything less than the unconditional love that you have always given me.”
“Lane was an especially terrible decision,” he agrees.
I glare at him.
“Sorry. Continue.”
“Royal Kingston, being married to you these last six months has been better than I ever thought it could be, and I am so lucky to have you as my partner in life.” I reach into my pocket.
King’s eyes go wide. “If you’re going to propose to me, Shortcake, I’m going to have to remind you that you’re already my wife, so it’s kind of too late to…” He drops off when he catches sight of the folded piece of paper in my hand.
I smile and hold it out to him. “I hope it’s better than a proposal.”
Taking the paper, he unfolds it slowly and then squints at it in the dwindling light. I can see the exact moment when he comprehends what he’s reading, like a fire bursts to life behind his eyes. “It’s the deed for the bakery.”
“I got Vanderman to do some rearranging of ownership because it was no longer accurate.”
His voice grows rougher. “You added me back on. And you’re…” He looks up, swallowing. “You changed your name?”
“The world needs more Kingstons. You should never have to be alone. Speaking of more Kingstons…” I reach into my pocket again, this time with trembling fingers.
King doesn’t wait until he sees the ultrasound. He pulls me to my feet and wraps me up in the tightest hug, holding me like he’s suddenly afraid to let go. “Georgie.” My name is barely a whisper, but that whisper says so much.
“For better or for worse, you’re stuck with me now,” I tell him and hold him just as tightly.
He laughs, the sound warm and comforting. “Better. Life with you is always better.”
The End