His smile widened, genuine. “Me too.”
We stood there a moment longer, and the silence felt comfortable, like it belonged to us. He hesitated, then reached out and lightly touched my hand, brief and careful. It wasn’t a kiss. It was something steadier. A promise without pressure.
I smiled up at him. “Goodnight, Braxton.”
“Goodnight, Jane,” he said.
I went to the pool house feeling warmer than my sweater had any right to make me. When I climbed into bed beside Lucy, she rolled over and squinted at me.
“Well,” she murmured. “Did you get a kiss?”
I buried my face in the pillow to hide my smile. “Go to sleep.”
Lucy made a pleased sound and turned away.
In the dark, with the inn quieting around us, I let myself hold the truth gently, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold night.
I wasn't waiting anymore. I was choosing.
Chapter Seventeen: The Easy Part
Jane
The next morning, the pool house still had one bed, frosted windows, and a heater that produced heat in the same way a toddler produced cooperation. Reluctantly, unpredictably, and only after you had already lowered your expectations.
None of that changed. What did change was me.
I woke up before Lucy. For a few quiet seconds I lay still under the blankets and listened to the muffled sounds of the inn waking up across the courtyard. A door closed. A distant voice called out good morning.
My mind should have immediately started listing everything that could go wrong today. It should have run through the rehearsal dinner, the wedding schedule, the endless tiny details that had to be right so no one cried for the wrong reasons.
Instead, my first thought was Braxton’s hand in mine. The warm certainty of it. The way he had not tugged or rushed, only held, as if he trusted me to walk beside him.
I stared at the ceiling and felt my face soften into a smile before I could stop it.
It was an unsettling feeling. Not because it was bad, but because it was unfamiliar. I had spent so many years takinghappiness in measured doses, like sugar you sprinkled sparingly because you didn’t want to waste it. Too much sweetness could be taken away. Too much hope could tip into disappointment. It was better to keep expectations low.
Except last night had been easy and this morning, my heart felt like it had been given permission to breathe.
Lucy made a muffled noise beside me, pulling the blanket higher. She murmured into the pillow. “If you are leaving, please take the cold with you.”
“I will do my best,” I whispered, slipping quietly out of bed.
When I stepped outside, the courtyard air slapped me awake properly. Snow had fallen overnight, a fresh layer that made everything look clean and calm, which was unfair considering the state of my life. The inn glowed warmly across the way, lights in the windows, garland along the railing, the promise of comfort even when the reality was chaos.
I crossed the courtyard, boots crunching over packed snow, and let myself feel one small, unreasonable thing.
I was looking forward to today.
Inside the Snowdrop Inn, warmth wrapped around me immediately. In the lobby, the tree lights were still on, twinkling softly, and a few guests sat with mugs, speaking in low voices like they were afraid to disturb the holiday atmosphere. I headed toward the kitchen, already shifting into work mode, mentally listing all the things that needed to be done today.
Then I saw Braxton.
He stood at the end of the hallway near the linen closet, holding a stack of folded napkins like they were important documents. He was dressed casually, sweater and jeans, hair still slightly messy in a way that made him look very handsome. He turned when he heard my footsteps.
His face lit in that immediate, unguarded way that made my stomach flip.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
