Hannah's heart squeezed. But she wasn't letting him off that easily. "So how big of a transgression is hiding your family from me?"
Jake's eyes darkened with understanding. They'd developed a system for his apologies—one that involved him thoroughly demonstrating his remorse through increasingly intimate acts of devotion.
They both loved that system. A lot.
"Feels like at least a forty-eight hour apology," he said thoughtfully, his hand sliding down her spine.
Hannah hummed, pretending to consider. "I was thinking seventy-two."
Jake's breath caught. He rolled them suddenly, pinning her beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a way that made her gasp.
"Seventy-two hours?" His voice was pure sin. "Of showing you exactly how sorry I am?"
Hannah's fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly. "Think you can handle that?"
Jake's answering grin was wicked. "Sweetheart, I'll spend the rest of my life making things up to you if you let me."
The rest of his life.
The words settled in Hannah's chest like warmth. Like certainty. Like home.
"Tell me about your sister," she whispered, even as his lips found that spot behind her ear that made her arch.
"Younger. Louder. Been dying to meet you." His teeth scraped gently against her throat. "But she can wait."
Hannah gasped as his hand slid lower. "Your parents?"
"Love you already." He kissed his way down her collarbone. "Mom cried when I told her about the fire. Dad offered to come help rebuild."
"Jake—"
"Later," he murmured against her skin. "Right now, I believe I have seventy-two hours of apologies to start making."
Hannah's laugh turned into a moan as his mouth moved lower. But even as pleasure sparked through her veins, even as Jake thoroughly demonstrated just how sorry he was, she felt it.
The certainty.
The rightness.
The absolute knowledge that this—this man, this love, this life they were building—was real.
No more lies.
No more walls.
Just them.
And that was everything.
Epilogue
Hannah
Six months later,Sugar & Spice gleamed in the morning sun.
The copper wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze, restored and polished until they shone. Through the new front windows—stronger glass, Jake had insisted, with better security—Hannah could see the line already forming. The grand reopening wasn't for another hour, but it seemed like the whole town had turned out.
Mr. Wilson's display cases were works of art—cherry wood and brass, exactly as he'd promised. Sarah moved behind the counter, setting out fresh pastries with the same efficiency she'd always had, like she'd never left at all.
