Eventually, I pull back. “We should turn off the lights.”
He nods, presses a quick kiss to my forehead, then moves to flip switches. The café sinks into shadow, then into the warmer glow of the few fixtures we leave on at night. Outside, the streetlamps throw pale rectangles of light through the windows.
I scoop Leo up from his bassinet and tuck him against my shoulder, his tiny body molding into me with sleepy trust. Vega rises and stretches, then pads over, staying close.
Luka returns to my side, his keys in hand. He watches me for a long moment, with wonder in his eyes.
“What?” I ask, smiling.
“Nothing,” he says. “Everything.”
He reaches past me to lock the door, then turns the deadbolt. We are officially closed. I feel it, not just as the end of a day, but as the closing of a circle that started a lifetime ago in this same town, in a different version of this building.
“Come on,” he says. “Your kingdom awaits.”
We reach the door leading out to the lot where Misha has the SUV parked. I adjust Leo, who has slid further into sleep, his lips parted against my shoulder. His breath is a soft puff against my neck.
“Here,” Luka says. “Give him to me.”
I hesitate. “You locked the door. I can carry him.”
“I know you can,” he says. “I want to.”
Carefully, I pass Leo to him. Luka settles our son into the crook of his arm with a care that still catches me off guard. A man who has broken bones and pulled triggers now memorizes the exact weight of eight pounds of new life.
Vega trots ahead, his tail swishing lazily as he leads us toward the cool night air.
I reach for the door, ready to push it open, but Luka’s hand closes around my wrist.
“Wait,” he says softly.
I turn back. His hazel eyes move over my face, searching, almost serious for a moment.
“What?” I ask, my voice dipping to match his.
The corners of his mouth curve into that slow, deliberate smile that still has the power to make my knees feel less reliable.
“Today you reopened your dream,” he says. “You gave this town back its heart. You gave our son a place to grow up that is full of warmth and sugar and stubborn women who will spoil him.”
I laugh quietly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is terrifying,” he says. “And perfect.”
He shifts Leo slightly and steps closer. We stand in the dim hallway outside the café, the soft light from inside glowing along the floor. His eyes lock on mine.
“And now,” he continues, voice dropping, “I am feeling a bit greedy.”
“Greedy?” I echo.
“For more of this,” he says simply. His free hand slides to my hip, his fingers curling there, heat seeping through the fabric of my jeans. “More mornings in that cabin with you. More tiny socks. More little hearts beating under your ribs.”
My breath stutters.
He holds my gaze, no hint of a joke now, just open, steady devotion. “Are you ready to give him a brother?” he asks.
The words bloom between us, thick and bright and full of promise. My heart answers before my mouth does, leaping at the thought of another small bundle of impossible in my arms. And at the idea that the girl who once believed she would never have any of this now gets to choose if she wants more.
I slide my hand up Luka’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm, and smile. The door waits. The cabin waits. Our future waits, wide open. And for the first time in a very long time, I’m not afraid to walk into it.
THE END
