Epilogue #2
The bell jingled again.
Mason came in with his mother, wearing a sweatshirt and the same Captain Problem apron from July, now too short over his jeans.
He stopped when he saw Crew.
“You’re back.”
Crew nodded. “I’m back.”
“You keep coming back.”
Crew looked at me.
Then at Mason.
“Yes.”
Mason considered this.
“Good. That’s better internet safety.”
I covered my mouth.
Crew nodded solemnly.
“I agree.”
Mason looked at me.
“Are you his girlfriend now?”
His mother inhaled sharply.
The bakery froze.
Again.
History was cruel.
Crew did not answer.
He looked at me.
Door open.
My choice.
Three months ago, I would have deflected.
Made a joke.
Handed Mason a cookie and evaded the question like a woman with excellent footwork.
But this was not the internet.
This was Mason, who had learned that private questions deserved consent.
And Crew, who had learned not to answer for me.
And me, who had learned that privacy did not have to mean hiding.
I crouched slightly behind the counter so I was closer to Mason’s height.
“Yes,” I said.
Crew stopped breathing.
Talia made a sound in the back.
Mason nodded.
“Okay.”
“That was a private answer,” I added. “Not for posting.”
“I don’t post,” Mason said. “I’m nine.”
“Excellent policy.”
He looked at Crew.
“Do you still need practice?”
Crew’s voice was rough.
“Every day.”
Mason gave him a thumbs-up.
“Me too.”
I handed Mason a pumpkin cookie.
“For growth.”
His mother looked relieved enough to melt.
They left with cookies and minimal emotional damage.
The bakery door shut.
Silence followed.
Not empty.
Huge.
Crew looked at me.
Girlfriend.
The word sat on the counter between us, warm and terrifying and less heavy than I expected.
“Well,” Talia whispered from the kitchen doorway. “I lived to see it.”
I pointed at her without looking away from Crew.
“Not now.”
She vanished.
Crew’s eyes held mine.
“Girlfriend?”
I lifted my chin.
“Do not say it like you found treasure.”
His smile trembled at the edges.
“I kind of did.”
Oh.
No.
Unfair.
My eyes burned.
“You are extremely dangerous in a suit.”
“I can take the jacket off.”
“Worse.”
He laughed then.
Soft.
Happy.
Mine followed.
Because what else could I do?
I loved him.
He loved me.
The town had mostly learned boundaries.
The roof was holding.
Tom was alive and meddling.
The road between Honeybrook and campus had become familiar under Crew’s tires.
And I had just called myself his girlfriend in front of a nine-year-old internet safety expert.
Life was ridiculous.
It was also good.
Crew came around the counter slowly.
I let him.
He stopped in front of me.
“Can I kiss my girlfriend in the bakery?”
My heart fell straight through the floor and kept going.
“That was smooth.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Clearly.”
“Too much?”
“No.”
His eyes warmed.
“No?”
I reached up and straightened his tie.
It did not need straightening.
“I’m at work.”
“Yes.”
“And Talia is listening.”
“Definitely.”
“And Mason could come back.”
“Possible.”
“And Mrs. Paxton might sense joy through brick.”
“Likely.”
I tugged him down by the tie.
“So make it quick.”
Crew kissed me.
Soft.
Smiling.
Careful enough for the bakery.
Real enough for my knees to forget they had job security.
From the back, Talia whispered, “Structurally emotional.”
I broke the kiss laughing.
Crew rested his forehead near mine, laughing too.
“Frankie got to you,” he said.
“She gets to everyone eventually.”
The bell jingled again.
Mrs. Paxton opened the door halfway, saw us, and immediately backed out.
“Respectful!” she called.
The door shut.
I laughed harder.
Crew pulled back and looked at me like he had spent years learning a language and had finally heard a sentence make sense.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Crew.”
He smiled.
“I like right now.”
My chest softened.
No fear first.
Not anymore.
“I like right now too.”
He kissed my forehead.
Then stepped back before I had to ask.
The flowers sat on the counter.
The coffee melted.
The fall festival order list waited.
The campus game waited.
Winter break waited.
Hard days waited too.
Distance.
Schedules.
Tom’s health.
Old fear.
New choices.
All of it still ahead.
But now we had a calendar.
A road.
A bakery table.
A repaired roof.
A boy who had become a man who came back.
A girl who had become a woman who opened the door.
And a love that did not need to go viral to become real.
Later that night, after closing, Crew drove me to the veterans center because Tom had demanded pie and “girlfriend confirmation,” which I had refused to dignify and then accidentally supplied by walking in holding Crew’s hand.
Tom saw.
Smiled.
Said nothing.
For exactly four seconds.
Then he lifted his water glass.
“To good roofs,” he said.
Crew looked at me.
I looked at Crew.
Mrs. Bell smiled.
Talia wiped her eyes.
Frankie, who should not have been there but somehow was, whispered, “And better shingles.”
Sutton said, “No.”
Tom laughed.
I leaned into Crew’s side.
He squeezed my hand once.
Outside, the October wind moved over the repaired roof, solid and quiet above us.
Inside, everyone we loved made too much noise.
And this time, I did not want to escape the story.
I only wanted to keep living it.