“You’re thinking too hard,” he says from where he’s tinkering with the new shelving he’s building for the expansion. His hands move with confidence, measuring and marking with precision that comes from years of practice.
“Just remembering.”
“Good memories?”
“The best ones.” I cross to him and slide my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against the solid warmthof his back. “Remember when everyone thought we were crazy? Moving this fast?”
His hands go still on the wood. “I remember Claire telling you I’d get bored.”
“Evelyn gave us six months.”
“The veterans bet on three.” He turns in my arms and frames my face with his palms. Sawdust clings to his forearms, and the scent of fresh-cut lumber fills the space between us. “They all lost money.”
“We were right.” The words come easier now, without the defensive edge they used to carry. “To trust this. To choose each other immediately.”
“We were.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Smartest thing I ever did was shutting down that auction.”
“Best decision I ever made was letting you.”
His mouth takes mine in a kiss that’s both gentle and possessive, his taste flooding every sense. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “About that break later—”
The door chimes. Three women enter for my afternoon mentorship group. Sammi, who’s launching a catering business. Jennifer, who wants to open a yoga studio. And Marissa, who’s in the early stages of planning a photography gallery.
I extract myself from Davin’s arms and greet them. We settle around the table with pastries from The Waffle Den and notebooks open, and for the next two hours, we talk about business plans and financing and the fear that comes with betting everything on a dream.
“What if I fail?” Sammi asks. Her pen taps an anxious rhythm against her notebook, and I recognize the defensive hunch in her shoulders.
A year ago, I asked Davin the same question. His answer echoes now. “You won’t fail because you’re too stubborn. Too smart. Too determined.” I lean forward, meeting her eyesdirectly. “But even if things don’t go exactly as planned, failure isn’t the end. It’s information. You adjust and keep building.”
“How do you stay confident when everyone’s watching?” Jennifer’s voice is quiet, uncertain. “When the whole town knows what you’re trying to do?”
“I don’t always feel confident.” The truth doesn’t cost me the way it used to. “But I show up anyway. And I let people help me. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.”
She glances at Davin, who’s moved to the front of the shop to give us privacy but stays within sight. His presence is a steady anchor even from across the room. “Your husband supports this. Not everyone has that.”
“He does. But I built this foundation before he came along.” I hold her gaze, making sure she hears me. “You don’t need a partner to succeed. You need to believe you deserve success. The right partner just makes it easier to remember that on the hard days.”
By the time they leave, all three are walking taller. Sammi’s eyes are bright with possibility. Marissa’s stopped apologizing for taking up space. Jennifer's making plans she wasn't sure of yesterday.
Davin locks the door behind them and turns to me. “You’re good at teaching.”
“I like it. Knowing I can help someone else avoid the mistakes I made.” I sink into the reading nook chair with a sigh, and my feet throb in my shoes. “Makes the hard parts worth it.”
He kneels in front of me and unlaces my boots, sliding them off with gentle hands. His thumbs massage into the arch of my foot, and the groan that escapes my throat is obscene.
“Watching you teach them what you know… you’re changing lives, Tilly.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “You’re exactly who they need. Exactly who I need.”
The praise feels warm in my chest, spreading heat through my ribs. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I told you I wasn’t.” He pulls me up and against him, and the difference in our sizes still makes my breath catch. His palm spans my lower back, thumb stroking the curve just above my jeans. “Come home with me. Let me show you how proud I am.”
Want wins over logic. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” The words send sparks down my spine. He releases me long enough to grab my coat, then his hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight. “Let’s go home.”
We drive through town as evening falls. The Valentine’s Festival preparations are underway in Heartstone Square. This year’s bachelor auction raised enough for the veterans’ center to add a gym. Evelyn’s already planning next year’s event with the enthusiasm of a general plotting maneuvers.
At the cabin, Davin builds up the fire while I shed my coat. The space has changed in the year we’ve been together. My books fill the shelves he built. My vintage finds decorate a few surfaces. The studio he promised sits off the main room, filled with inventory and planning materials.
