"I hope so."
We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, and I feel the weight of everything that has happened in the past few weeks pressing down on me. The fire, the fear and the realization that I'm falling in love with this woman, and there’s no going back.
"Piper," I say quietly. "About you staying."
"I meant it," she says quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. But I also know that staying here means giving up a lot; the Seattle job and the freedom to move around. All of it."
She steps closer and takes my hands. "Dylan, I've spent my entire adult life running from place to place, never putting down roots, never letting myself get too attached to anything or anyone. And you know what? I was miserable. I didn't even realize how miserable until I came here."
Her voice softens. "You and Maddie and this town have given me something I didn't know I was looking for. A home. A family. A reason to stay. And I'm not giving that up."
My throat tightens. "You’re sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, and for the first time in three years, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, the future is not something to survive.
It's something to look forward to.
We spendthe rest of the morning at the bakery, cleaning up and preparing to reopen the next day. Around noon, Gina from the festival committee calls to confirm that the Heart-to-Heart Festival is still happening. The town council voted unanimously to move forward with it, believing that the community needs the celebration now more than ever.
"Can you have the cake ready?" Gina asks.
"It's already done," I tell her. "Just needs to be transported to the square."
"Perfect. We will send someone to pick it up the morning of the festival. Thank you, Dylan. This is going to be exactly what we need."
After I hang up, I turn to Piper. "The festival is on."
She grins. "Good. I've a lot of footage to edit."
We head back to my house to pick up some clothes and check on things. The neighborhood is quiet; most people are still at evacuation shelters or staying with family. My house is exactly as we left it, and the relief I feel is almost overwhelming.
Maddie runs inside and immediately starts playing with her toys, happy to be back in her own space. Piper and I collapse on the couch, exhausted from the adrenaline crash.
"I can't believe we are here," she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Yesterday I thought we might lose everything."
"Me too."
"But we didn't."
"No," I agree. "We didn't."
She tilts her head to look at me. "Do you think things will go back to normal now?"
I consider the question. Normal. What even is normal anymore? My life has been turned upside down in the best possible way since Piper walked through the bakery door three weeks ago.
"I don't think things will ever be the same," I say honestly. "But maybe that is a good thing."
She smiles. "Maybe it is."
We sit there for a while, just holding each other, listening to Maddie hum in the other room. And for the first time in a long time, I feel at peace.
That evening,after Maddie is in bed, Piper and I sit on the back porch with glasses of wine, watching the stars come out. The smell of smoke still lingers in the air, but it's fading, replaced by the scent of pine and earth and the promise of spring.
"Can I tell you something?" Piper says after a while.
