Nate reached over and took my hand.
Nate’s house glowed softly when we pulled into the driveway—porch light on, windows golden, as if it had been waiting for us to come home.
Lois bounded inside ahead of us, flopped immediately onto her dog bed, and gave a satisfied snort. Tilly ran to change into pajamas and came back out holding a blanket, dragging it behind her like a cape.
“Can we do pancakes in the morning?” she asked sleepily.
“You bet,” Nate said, lifting her into a hug. “With chocolate chips and whipped cream and maybe a few sprinkles for winning.”
“Even though I didn’t cook?”
“You were our mascot,” I said. “You get pancakes forever.”
She gave a happy sigh and kissed Nate on the cheek, then did the same to me. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispered.
“I am too,” I whispered back.
Later, when she was tucked into bed and the house was quiet, Nate and I curled up on the couch. The quilt was wrapped around us, Lois snoring softly nearby, and the soft rhythm of the night hummed in the background—crickets, trees shifting in the breeze, the breath of something steady and safe.
“I’ve never felt this,” I said finally. “Not ever.”
Nate brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “Me either.”
“It doesn’t feel like falling,” I whispered. “It feels like standing still for the first time.”
His smile curved into something that felt like forever.
And in that quiet, full moment, I let myself believe it.
Chapter 34
Nate
Three months later
The stars came out early, soft and steady over Honeybrook Hollow like they were waiting for us.
I parked the truck on the hilltop that overlooked the town, a place Tilly called the “twinkle spot” when she came with me once to watch the fireworks in July. Eliza had never seen it. It felt right to do this here—something just for us.
The bed of the truck was packed with every blanket I owned, a mess of quilts and pillows that probably looked like a fort or a sleepover gone rogue.
Tilly and Lois were headed to the Honeybrook Inn for a giant sleepover with Eliza’s sisters, Paige’s daughters, my grandmother, and theirs. Mabel was calling it a welcome-to-the-family party. We were also invited to the next weenie roast, and I couldn’t wait to see what that was all about.
Graham’s restaurant was still hanging on, though it was not the smashing success he’d been expecting. From what I heard, he’d lowered his prices, increased his serving sizes, and dialeddown his pretentious bull crap in an attempt to fit back into town. The jury was still out on how long he’d last.
The Pennywhistle, on the other hand, was thriving. Friday nights had become something of an event, thanks to a rotating series of specials Eliza planned and cooked herself—comfort-forward, thoughtful dishes that felt like they belonged to this town. People came in asking forherfood by name, lingering longer, laughing louder, treating the place like exactly what it was meant to be.
The Coffee Cabin was flourishing too. Eliza had expanded the space and added a real kitchen, turning it into more than just a stop for coffee. Her breakfast menu had Honeybrook Hollow lining up early, eager for whatever she was creating that day. Watching her step fully into that role—confident, capable, joyful—felt like witnessing something bloom right in front of all of us.
Back to the moment at hand…
The town sparkled from the stars above and the town below—string lights at The Honeybrook Inn, the soft glow from the Coffee Cabin, the quiet flicker of porches and streetlamps.
She turned to me as we lay back on the pile of blankets, her head on my chest, our fingers tangled between us. “This is amazing,” she whispered.
I kissed the top of her head. “Thought it was time you saw where I go when I need to breathe.”
“I love it here,” she said quietly. “I love you.”
