Maybe because it’s assumed you just live happily ever after. The end.
But it’s not the end.
It’s the beginning of something new.
I spent over ten years pining for Archer, first in secret, then from afar. I never actually thought about what it would be like to have him because I never thought I would.
But then he kissed me under the mistletoe.
Best kiss of my life.
The entire way to Bab’s the next morning, I thought maybe it had all been a literal dream, that I’d walk into the kitchen and he’d be there scowling and hurling insults.
But he flirted. Fed me a cream puff.
God, he is good at flirting. The butterflies in my stomach were still bouncing around.
I couldn’t believe the man I’d been in love with half my life was looking at me the way I always wished. My head was whirling, trying to merge my dream and reality.
That had to be the only explanation.
The sole reason that, when I opened my mouth, a whole lot of imprudent, foolish words fell out.
Because what was I thinking, saying I couldn’t change my whole life for one kiss?
Yes, I could! Iwantedto.
It wasn’t just one kiss anyway. It waseverything. My dream served up on a silver platter.
Hell, even when the foolery tumbled right from my lips, Archer doubled down and didn’t retaliate, proving he really had learned from our past.
“I guess it wasn’t just a kiss to me.”
Groaning, I leaned over the counter to press my forehead to the cool countertop. “Stupid,” I scolded myself.
“Toby? What on earth are you doing?” Mom asked on her way into the kitchen.
Teacup followed right behind her, the little bells on her sweater jingling with every step she took. She stopped long enough to sniff my pant leg and then continued on after Mom, a hopeful look on her face.
“Do you want a snack?” Mom asked her, and all the bells on her sweater rang anew.
I turned as she grabbed a snowman cookie jar off the counter and reached in to pull out a small dog treat. “Here you go,” she cooed, handing it over.
Teacup took the treat and ran into the living room where she lay down on the oversized red dog bed with candy canes all over it.
“Did something happen at the clinic today?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. Snatching a Christmas tree-shaped cookie off the platter on the counter and biting off the star on the top. “Everything at the clinic is good.”
After finishing the gingerbread gazebo this morning, I put in a full day at the clinic—well, a full day for my father’s clinic. I was still trying to get used to the lighter hours. I barely knew what to do with myself, completely unaccustomed to getting off before dinner.
Everything is different here.
But not in a bad way, so what the heck was my problem?
I crunched through half the cookie while Mom pulled two mugs decorated with Christmas wreaths and red-ribbon handles out of the cabinet and then a container of hot cocoa mix.
“Don’t forget the marshmallows,” I said, chomping on the rest of the cookie.
