"You came back," she says softly.
I turn to face her, my free hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I shouldn't have left in the first place."
Her smile is like sunrise. "Then don't."
This time, when I kiss her, there's no hesitation. No holding back. This isn't just about the past two weeks. This is about all the mornings to come.
Epilogue
4 months later
Harper
"Harper, can you check the wood stain samples back here?"
I look up from my book order spreadsheet, finding Dean hovering in the bookstore's doorway. He's been acting weird all morning – weirder than usual for my grumpy mountain man.
"Can't you just bring them here?"
"No." He shifts his weight. "They need... the right lighting."
"The right lighting," I repeat slowly. "For wood stain."
He just stares at me with those intense blue eyes until I sigh and stand up. "Fine. But if Boris has eaten another one of my cookies, I'm teaching him vegetarianism."
The workspace is unusually tidy when I enter – no sawdust hurricanes, no tools scattered across benches. Instead, there are candles everywhere, their soft light reflecting off the polished surface of a beautiful bookshelf.
My breath catches. It's perfect – exactly what I'd sketched for the children's corner of my store, complete with built-in reading nook and tiny carved woodland creatures hiding in the scrollwork.
"Do you like it?" Dean's voice is rough with nervousness.
"Like it? It's..." I step closer, running my fingers over a tiny carved owl. "It's amazing."
"Good. Because..." He clears his throat. "Because I was hoping..."
I turn around to find him down on one knee, a small box in his hand. There's sawdust in his hair and a smudge of wood stain on his cheek and he's never looked more perfect.
"Dean," I whisper.
"I had a whole speech planned," he says. "About how you stormed into my life and rearranged everything. How you make me want to be better, braver. How even Boris likes you better than me now."
I laugh, even as tears blur my vision.
"But mostly," he continues, "I just want to wake up to your weird lavender lattes every morning. I want to build you bookshelves and watch you fill them with stories. I want..."
"Yes!" I interrupt.
He blinks. "I haven't asked yet."
"Oh." I bite my lip. "Sorry. Continue."
A smile tugs at his mouth – the rare, full one that still makes my heart skip. "Harper James, will you—"
"Yes!"
"—marry—"
"Yes!"
