He kisses me, slow and deep, and the taste of him fills my senses. When he pulls back, his eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Tomorrow, we finish your shop,” he says. “But right now, we start building our life.”
“Together,” I whisper.
“Together,” he agrees.
With his body warm around mine, I let myself believe good things don’t have to be temporary.
That I’m allowed to keep him.
Today, he showed me what forever feels like.
And tomorrow, the town will see what we’ve built.
Chapter eight
Davin
Icarry the final piece through the door wrapped in canvas, forty hours of carving hidden from curious eyes. The shop is already alive with bodies and noise an hour before opening. My focus narrows to one person.
Tilly moves through the space directing volunteers, her hair pulled back and her cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. She’s wearing the violet sweater I bought her last week, the one that makes her eyes sparkle. She owns this dream now, every confident gesture proving she belongs here. The transformation from three weeks ago roots deep in my chest.
I set the wrapped piece against the wall behind the counter, where it won’t be disturbed. My back aches from the work, and my hands still smell like wood oil.
“Davin.” She weaves between volunteers from the bookstore arranging vintage clothing and knick-knacks and crosses to me. Her hand finds my forearm, fingers curling around my wrist. “You’re here.”
“You knew I would be.” My palm settles on her lower back, stroking the curve of her waist through the sweater. The touch grounds us both. “How’s it going?”
“Overwhelming. Perfect.” She laughs, the sound bright and unguarded. “Evelyn’s been directing people. The veterans showed up with coffee and won’t leave until everything’s secured.”
“Sounds right.” I scan the shop, cataloging details. The armoire anchors the wall, drawing the eye. The reading nook in the corner already holds Ruthie from the Matchmakers’ Brigade, testing the vintage chair with exaggerated sighs of pleasure. Display cases line the walls, filled with delicate glassware and silver that catches the light. “The place looks solid, Tilly. Really solid.”
Her eyes go bright. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“You could have. Just would’ve taken longer.” I spread my hand across her lower back. “I made it easier.”
“Your support made it possible.” She leans into me, her curves soft against my harder lines. Her heartbeat pulses against my ribs, steady and sure. “I love you.”
The words steal my breath every time. My jaw aches with the need to say more, promise more, claim more. “Love you too.”
John appears from near the door where the veterans have stationed themselves. “Davin. Need you to settle something. Eddie says the display case isn’t level.”
“It’s level.” But I follow him anyway, leaving Tilly to greet arriving customers.
The veterans have claimed positions near the entrance, like self-appointed security. John, Red, and Eddie stand bundled in coats despite the shop’s warmth, judging every person who enters with the critical eye of men who’ve seen too much to be easily impressed.
“The case is fine,” I say after checking it with my level. “Eddie’s just being difficult.”
“Keeps life interesting,” Eddie says. He studies the shop with narrowed eyes. “She did well here. You both did.”
The approval lands solidly. These men don’t waste words on empty praise. “Thanks.”
“Showing up. Doing the work. Not making it about you.” John nods toward where Tilly is explaining her vision to a customer, her hands moving as she gestures at the furniture arrangements. “That’s what matters.”
The door chimes. Mayor Hartwood sweeps in. Evelyn greets him, and they head toward Tilly. She pulls Tilly into a brief hug. “Darling, it’s perfect. We need a ribbon cutting. Mayor, scissors.”
Mayor Hartwood shuffles out obediently. Evelyn catches my eye and winks. “You did solid work here, Davin.”
