Epilogue
KRISTA
The lake looked different in September.
Softer somehow. The sharp, bright edges of summer had blurred, traded for a gentler kind of gold. The maples along the ridge were just starting to blush at the tips, like Maple Falls was easing itself toward autumn instead of diving headfirst the way it usually did.
The Hot Honey Hideaway was closed for the night, the Open sign dark in the window, the patio chairs stacked and tucked away. But the place didn’t feel shut down, not with the flicker of campfire and the twinkle lights surrounding the bar.
Joe had said he wanted to stop by, to make a drink for the two of them. A place where they could relax and just be.
His hand was warm around hers as he guided her down the last few steps toward the Hideaway, and something about the quiet set of his shoulders made her suspicious.
And then she saw it.
Flickers of light danced across the shoreline.
Krista slowed. Mason jars with tea lights lined the deck, creating a soft-lit path to a blanket spread near the edge of the dock, positioned so the lake stretched out in front of it— moonlight skimming the water, soft and silver.
Two pillows waited at one end, slightly rumpled like he’d already tested them.
A small basket sat between them, lid propped open.
Krista’s feet stopped moving.
“Joe…” Her voice came out thin, like she didn’t trust it not to break. “What is this?”
He gave her a sideways look, almost shy for once. “A picnic.”
“At the Hideaway?”
“At the Hideaway,” he confirmed, and his thumb brushed over her knuckles like he couldn’t help himself. “I wanted it to be here.”
She knelt, peeking into the basket. Crackers. Strawberries. A small round of goat cheese. A jar of Moonlight Kiss honey with her grandmother’s unmistakable handwritten label.
And two chilled glasses, rims dusted with salt.
“You really didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured, looking up at him.
“I know.” His gaze held hers in a way that made her chest ache. “But I wanted to.”
Krista shifted her weight back, still staring at the lanterns, the blanket, the careful little touches that felt like him saying, I see you without ever having to use the words .
“This is why you made Frankie stay behind, isn’t it?” Krista laughed.
“You know that dog can’t be trusted around cheese. He’d run off with it before we even got a sample.”
They stretched out on the blanket; the night stretched out before them.
Out on the lake, a loon called, its cry stretching into the evening air.
In a few days, they would leave.
The thought should have knotted her stomach, but for once it didn’t.
Her parents had driven up every weekend in August, patching things with words and actions.
They’d purchased a second home, so they could be close by.
They were helping at the cabin, too, installing railings and grab bars for Alice, running her to doctor appointments, and helping to pay for all the insurance premiums and therapy visits.
There was still a lot of hurt and resentment the way the last thirteen years had played out, but both sides were trying to listen to the other and show up in ways that mattered.
Robyn had already moved into the little apartment above the bookshop, which was full of the scent of old paperbacks and cinnamon candles. She split her days between helping Alice, writing in the window seat of the bookshop, and “accidentally” bumping into her co-worker Tyler in the romance section.
The town still dropped off casseroles and jars of soup to Walt and Alice and seemed never to plan to stop.
And the Hideaway was still hers. Joe and Madison, and everyone else had been right––she hadn’t needed to sell it. Not when she didn’t have to manage everything on her own. Not with Joe by her side, being the extra set of hands she needed, and her mom stepping up to care for her aging parents.
Soon, the Hideaway would be closed for the season, and Joe and Krista would be heading off to Europe.
She still half expected the universe to snatch that away if she looked at it too directly, but the tickets were booked. Joe’s revised contract was signed. Three weeks in the fall for this assignment, then shorter trips throughout next year, with plenty of time to spend together in Maple Falls.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Joe said quietly.
Krista blinked, realizing she’d been staring at a lantern without really seeing it. “You can tell?”
“You get this little line right here,” he said, brushing his thumb gently between her brows.
“Do I now?” She leaned in, kissing him softly before turning and resting her head against his shoulder. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the familiar heartbeat under her ear. Outside, the sky deepened to a dark, inky black, the stars piercing the sky like tiny pinpricks.
“Force of habit, not being in the moment. For so long I felt I had to balance everything on my own; my mind was always full. But now, mostly I feel…calmer.”
Joe’s expression softened at the edges, something awed and fierce moving behind his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I like you calmer. Means I’m doing my job.”
“Smooth,” she murmured.
“You know, this spot,” he said quietly, voice low against her hair, “is where I first saw you.”
His fingers tightened, just slightly.
“I walked in here thinking I was doing a story,” he murmured. “And then you looked up, and you smiled like you didn’t even know what it did to people.” He exhaled. “To me.”
Krista swallowed, the sound of her heartbeat almost drowning out his words.
“And I knew…” He paused like the words mattered. Like he was choosing them carefully. “I knew my life would never be the same.”
They fell quiet, letting the lake and the night fill in the space.
“Hey,” Joe murmured after a while. “When we’re in Paris, I want to take your picture by every fountain we find.
“And in Rome,” he went on, “there’s this one little café corner you’ll love. I tried shooting it without you and it was…wrong.”
Her heart gave a happy, ridiculous little lurch. “You’re really sure about having me with you?” she asked. “I won’t get in your way?”
“Krista,” Joe said, tilting her chin up with two fingers so she had to meet his eyes, “there is nowhere on this planet I’d rather be than wherever you are. ”
She laughed, breath hitching. “Well, when you put it like that…”
He kissed her then, slow and sure. Full of the quiet promise of all the mornings and nights and ordinary days they would share.
When they broke apart, the stars had multiplied, the lake a dark mirror holding them all.
She looked up at the stars and thought, she didn’t even need to make a wish. She didn’t have to choose between love or duty. She could make room for both.
Tomorrow, they’d pack.
Next week, they’d fly.
Next summer, the Hideaway would open its doors again, and the bees would be buzzing and the honey would be flowing.
And somewhere between the campground and the bar and the cave and the wide world beyond, they’d keep building a life that was theirs.