“You were going to move to New York for me,” Declan said with obvious amazement.
“I was going to move anywhere for you,” I said, echoing his earlier declaration. “Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being my brother’s best friend and became the person who makes me want to be braver than I’ve ever been.”
The silence that followed was interrupted by what sounded suspiciously like Mom making pleased sounds from across the room, though when I looked over, she was pretending to be deeply engaged in conversation with Carol Hayes about Florida citrus fruit.
“So let me get this straight,” Declan said with growing amusement. “I was prepared to move to Chicago for you, youwere prepared to move to New York for me, and neither of us actually wants to leave Vermont.”
“That’s exactly right,” I said, starting to laugh at the absurdity of our mutual romantic martyrdom. “We’re both idiots.”
“Complete idiots,” Declan agreed cheerfully. “We spent weeks agonizing over career decisions and keeping secrets from each other when we both wanted the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“To stay here,” Declan said, reaching for my hands again. “To build a life in Everdale Falls, together. To coordinate more Christmas festivals and argue about vendor booth placement and make out in inappropriate public locations.”
“Those are very important to our relationship dynamic.”
“Critical,” Declan agreed with obvious mock seriousness. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Bernie’s romantic photography collection.”
“Or Mrs. Peterson’s betting pool,” I added.”
“Definitely can’t disappoint Mrs. Peterson,” Declan said, and then he was kissing me again, softer this time, like he was sealing a promise rather than making a desperate declaration. When we broke apart, I noticed that our parents had abandoned all pretense of not listening to our conversation and were watching us with the kind of obvious satisfaction usually reserved for people who’d just won the lottery or successfully completed major home improvement projects.
“So,” Dad said cheerfully, “should we assume you’re both staying in Vermont permanently, or are we going to have to worry about you two running off back to exotic locations like Chicago or Manhattan?”
“Definitely staying in Vermont,” I said firmly. “Permanently. If that’s okay with everyone.”
“More than okay,” Mom said with obvious delight. “Though we’ll need to discuss living arrangements and career plans and?—”
“Mom,” I interrupted gently, “maybe we could handle the practical details after we’ve had more than five minutes to process the romantic details?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Mom said, though her expression suggested she was already mentally planning engagement parties and researching wedding venues.
“Actually,” Carol Hayes said with obvious excitement, “Bill and I have been thinking about the property on King’s Walk that has been up for sale for months. We were going to buy it and flip it, but maybe… it would be perfect for a young couple just starting out.”
The casual way she said it made it clear that our parents had moved directly from hoping we’d figure out our feelings to planning our entire domestic future.
“And Holly could start her own event planning business,” Mom added enthusiastically. “Local focus, community events, maybe some destination weddings at the ski resorts.”
“She could coordinate the summer festival, too,” Carol suggested. “And the fall harvest celebration. And maybe we could add a Valentine’s Day event?—”
“Mom,” Declan interrupted, “you’re planning our entire professional future along with our personal future.”
“Someone has to,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “You two have proven that you’re not very good at planning things without getting completely tangled up in unnecessary complications.”
She had a point. We had managed to turn a simple Christmas festival coordination into a romantic crisis involving potential moves to Chicago, New York, and whatever exotic location we might have suggested next if our parents hadn’t intervened.
“What about you?” I asked Declan. “Are you okay with giving up corporate law to become a small-town... what? What would you do in Everdale Falls?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Declan said with evident enthusiasm. “Small-town legal practice, maybe. Estate planning, real estate law, and helping local businesses with contracts and regulations. The kind of law that actually helps people instead of just making corporations richer.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, and I meant it.
Declan helping local families and small businesses, being part of the community in a way that mattered—it felt exactly right.
“Plus,” he added with apparent mischief, “someone’s going to need to provide legal counsel when your event planning business inevitably takes over half of Vermont.”
“Half of Vermont seems reasonable,” I agreed solemnly.
