“I heard the world’s best latte was made here,” I tease. “And well, this man I met last week ruined coffee for me. Ruined a lot of things, actually.”
“Sounds like you should run away from that guy.”
I start walking toward Boone, my boots a much better match for the snow than my stilettos. “Well, you see, I did. But then I realized that maybe the things I’ve been running away from are actually the things I should be running toward.”
Boone pushes off the doorframe, taking a step in my direction. “I’m listening…”
“All my life it’s been me against the world. I’ve fought hard. I’m pretty stubborn, you know,” I say, taking another step forward.
Boone grins at this. “I do know.”
“But then this man said something. He said he’d fight for me, that he wouldn’t fight against me,” I continue.
“Sounds like a great guy,” Boone interjects.
“Oh, just wait, he gets better.” I smile, closing the gap between us until we’re so close I can feel Boone’s warmth radiating off him. “He also said I was fighting myself, and I realized, after many, many terrible cups of coffee, that he was right. And you see, I have this thing about being wrong.”
Boone’s hand finds mine, and then he prompts gently, “Remind me.”
“I don’t mind being wrong, but I can’t stand staying wrong when there’s a way to figure out what’s right. And when I’m really honest with myself, being with you feels right even though I’m scared. I don’t think I’m the kind that’s easy to love.”
His finger traces my jawline, lifting my chin so my eyes look into his blue ones. “Kate, I think you’re a lot easier to love than you think. You just have to let someone try.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “Boone, do you want to try?”
Boone pulls at my hand, leading me toward the cabin before stopping short of the porch. The porch that now has a swing. “I want someone to sit with on the porch swing, too, Kate.”
My porch swing Santa Secret.
Although it was a prayer I prayed when I was just a kid, it’s always been something I’ve wanted. To grow old with someone that wanted to grow old with me, that wanted to sit and reminisce on the old memories while hoping for the new together. And I think my dad would want that for me, too.
Tears well up in my eyes. “You built me a swing?”
“I know you don’t want to be here at the cabin. I’ll build you a porch swing wherever you are, Kate, because it’s not really about the porch swing. It’s about who is sitting in the swing with you.”
His hands are now on my waist, pulling me closer to him until there is no air between us. It’s just him, me, and my weak knees.
“Okay,” I whisper into the fog of our feelings and breath. “But Boone, you have to promise me something.”
I look up, my mind tracing his lips curving into a smile until my eyes reach his.
“Anything,” he breathes.
“You must promise to keep me in coffee, because you really did completely, forever ruin me on every other coffee creamer out there. Not even the coffee creamer from that fancy coffee shop in New York was good enough. It’s all terrible. Necessary, but terrible, and I accidentally stole a pair of your wool socks, and I’m not giving them back. In fact, I would like six more pairs so I can have a pair for every day of the week, and I really need to apologize to your parents, because I’m sure they think I’m a terrible person for how I left you on Christmas, and…”
But there are no moreands because Boone’s lips are on mine, hushing my rambling with a kiss that’s as strong as it is soft. When he pulls away, he smiles. “I can make good on that promise right now.”
“Thank goodness,” I reply. “Because while I did mainly come here for you, I was also really excited about a gingerbread latte.”
Epilogue
Three years later…
It isn’t Kate Everett against the world anymore. It is Boone and Kate Montgomery, creating their own world together.
Two years ago, Kevin walked me down the aisle in the church where Boone’s parents were married. It was simple, perfect, and all our guests received handmade mugs with a chicken kissing an armadillo stamped on them. My mother came. She gave us a crystal gravy boat. It holds coffee creamer in our refrigerator.
Our refrigerator that isn’t in the cabin in the woods or in an apartment in New York.
