“I think I already have,” I say quietly.
The relief that floods through me is answer enough.
Back at the hotel, Violet is coloring as I start packing. I've booked the earliest flight I could find. We can't get out of San Francisco fast enough.
“Violet.” I wait for her to look at me. “We're not moving to San Francisco. We're gonna stay in Pelican Point.”
Her eyes go wide. “We're staying with Cookie?”
I chuckle. If I ever wondered what tops her priorities, there it is. “Yep. We're staying with Cookie.”
She drops her crayon and scrambles off the bed, her whole face lighting up. “And Aunt Heather, too?”
“And Aunt Heather, too.”
“Yay!” She does a little jump, clapping her hands. “Can we go home right now? I wanna tell Cookie!”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” I promise, crouching down to catch her as she launches herself at me for a hug. “We'll go see them as soon as we land.”
She pulls back, placing her little hands on my cheeks. “You're not sad anymore, Uncle Logan.”
The observation catches me off guard. “No, sweetpea. I'm not sad anymore.”
“Good.” She kisses my nose, then wiggles down to return to her coloring. “Cookie doesn't like when people are sad.”
I pull out my phone. My fingers hover over Heather's contact, and my heart pounds as I type:
Flying home. Need to talk. Please.
Staring at the screen, I wait anxiously for the three dots that indicate she's typing. They never come. The message stays on delivered, unread.
My stomach twists with worry, but I tamp it down. I'll see her tomorrow. I'll tell her everything, that I love her, that I'm choosing Pelican Point, that I want to build a future with her if she'll let me.
I just hope I haven't waited too long.
We catch the five AM flight out, and after we land, I drive straight from the airport to the library. Violet bounces in her car seat the entire drive, chattering about seeing Cookie and Aunt Heather and showing them the books we bought in the airport gift shop.
“Do you think Cookie remembers me?” she asks for the third time.
“I guarantee it,” I say, my own nerves building as we pull into the library parking lot.
Heather's car is there. My pulse kicks up.
Violet struggles with her car seat buckle, and the second I get it undone, she's out of the car, her pigtails bouncing as she runs toward the entrance on her little legs. I follow more slowly, my heart in my throat.
The automatic doors slide open, and Violet's squeal of delight echoes through the quiet library. “Cookie!”
I step inside just in time to see the chaos erupt.
Cookie must have been napping in Heather's office, because suddenly she's in the doorway, her ears perked as she spotsViolet. The little corgi barks, sharp, joyful sounds, as she launches herself at Violet with a speed that shouldn't be possible for her short legs. She's practically airborne when she reaches Violet, the impact knocking my four-year-old right onto her bottom.
Violet doesn't care. She shrieks with delight, her little arms wrapping around Cookie's wiggling potato-shaped body. They roll around in a heap on the library floor, Cookie licking every inch of Violet's face while Violet giggles so hard she can barely breathe.
“I missed you, Cookie!” Violet gasps. “I missed you so, so much!”
Cookie responds with her entire body, squirming with such force that her back end fishtails. She whines and yips, emitting little groans of pure happiness.
A few library patrons stand around watching, smiling at the reunion. Amy stands near the information desk, her phone already out, no doubt documenting this for the town gossip mill.
