Epilogue
Juliet
One Year Later
Valentine’s Day still smelled like roses, coffee, and last-minute panic.
Some things, no matter how much your life changed, stayed exactly the same.
What In Carnation hummed around me. Phones ringing, coolers cycling, ribbon bins overflowing in shades of red and pink that blurred together by noon. The shop was full but not frantic, busy in that familiar way that came from years of surviving this exact day.
I stood at the prep table, finishing the last bouquet of the morning.
Last-minute, of course.
A man hovered near the register with the look of someone who knew he was already in trouble and hoped flowers might soften the fallout. Jackie handled him with practiced ease, ringing him up and flashing the kind of smile that said you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.
I adjusted the arrangement carefully, fingers slower than they used to be. Red roses. White ranunculus. Soft eucalyptus tucked in just right. I stepped back, tilted my head, and made one final adjustment.
Perfect.
I reached for the ribbon and froze.
A firm, unmistakable kick landed low in my belly.
“Oh,” I breathed, instinctively dropping my hand to my stomach.
Another movement followed. Stronger. Purposeful.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
My belly had grown round over the last few months, stretching my sweaters and shifting my balance in ways I was still learning. I rubbed slow circles over the curve. “Easy, baby boy,” I murmured. “We’re almost done.”
“Are you okay?” Jenna asked from across the prep table, already alert.
Jackie’s head snapped up from the register. “Is it time?” she hollered, even as she handed the guy his change and bouquet. “Because I told you I needed a warning.”
I laughed and shook my head. “No. Just him playing soccer with my bladder.”
Jackie groaned dramatically. “Absolutely unacceptable behavior. I can’t do false alarms anymore.”
Jenna smiled, relief softening her shoulders. “That kid likes to make his presence known.”
“He gets that from his dad,” I said, fondness threading my voice.
I tied the ribbon, slid the bouquet into a vase, and set it carefully on the counter.
A year ago, I’d been drowning here.
Now, I was standing solidly in the middle of it, with a baby on the way and so happy I thought my heart was going to burst.
The bell above the door chimed.
I didn’t look up.
I didn’t need to.
I felt him.
The subtle shift in the air. The presence that had become as familiar as the shop itself. My heart fluttered still, even after a year of mornings and nights and shared routines.
“Asher,” I said softly.
He pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head as he walked in, leather jacket unzipped, beard neatly trimmed, eyes already locked on me. He didn’t pause to take in the room. Didn’t scan the chaos.
He came straight to me.
He stepped behind the register like he belonged there and pulled me carefully into his arms, one hand braced at my lower back, the other cradling my head as he kissed me.
Slow. Soft. Familiar.
The kind of kiss that said I’m here without needing words.
His hands slid down to my stomach, and his thumbs brushed over the fabric like he was greeting someone important. “Your mama working too hard?” he murmured to my belly.
I snorted. “Excuse me, I am not working too hard.”
He bent and pressed a kiss to my stomach, completely unconcerned that we were very much not alone. He straightened and looked me in the eyes. “Doctor said you need to take it easy.”
“Well, the doctor didn’t have forty-three red rose bouquets to get done today,” I added dryly. “He can take it easy, and I will once we close the doors tonight.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to my lips. “You need to take it easy,” he repeated.
I rolled my eyes. “I am taking it easy.”
He lifted a brow. “You’re standing.”
“I own a flower shop, Asher, and most people stand for their job.”
“But most of those people aren’t over eight months pregnant.”
“Eight months, three weeks, and two days,” I corrected.
He straightened, eyes warm and unyielding in that way that still made my chest tighten. “Which is why you should be resting and not here.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
I was listening. I was resting more. Letting people help me in ways I never would have before.
A year ago, that would’ve terrified me.
Now, it felt like trust.
Jenna suddenly found something very interesting to organize. Jackie did not.
She sighed loudly from the register, leaning her elbows on the counter. “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a romance novel.”
Asher glanced over, completely unbothered. “You enjoyin’ the show?”
Jackie grinned. “Absolutely. It’s wild. You two met almost exactly a year ago, and now Juliet bagged the biker and his baby.”
Jenna laughed. “Truly inspirational.”
Heat crept up my cheeks, but I didn’t pull away when Asher wrapped an arm around me, solid and sure. He kissed my temple, then my lips again, unhurried, unapologetic.
“Bagged me?” he muttered. “Pretty sure I volunteered.”
I laughed, leaning into him. “You absolutely did.”
He rested his forehead against mine for a moment, the noise of the shop fading around us. “You ready?”
I glanced around one last time. The flowers were going out. The shop was thriving. Jenna and Jackie had everything under control.
A year ago, I’d been counting minutes, just trying to survive Valentine’s week.
Now, I was leaving early with my hot biker, with our baby kicking inside me, and a future that felt solid and real.
Asher kissed me once more, softer this time, and whispered against my lips, “This is just the beginning.”