In this town.
Building this life.
And for the first time since I lost Sarah, I'm not just surviving.
I'm living.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Piper
Valentine,Montana, looks different in the summer.
The skies are clear. The scent of smoke is long gone. Wildflowers spill along the sidewalks, and the whole town hums with the slow, sleepy confidence of a place that survived something together.
Spice Spice Baby has a line out the door again, but this time it's not because of a new pastry release or unexpected influencer drop.
It's because of us.
Our engagement photos are pinned to the bulletin board next to the register. I didn't expect the town to go feral over them, but apparently, nothing electrifies a small Montana community like a bakery love story, especially one involving a single dad and a woman who came into town for one weekend and never left.
I walk into the bakery wearing one of Dylan's shirts tied at the waist and the skirt Maddie picked out for me this morning. The bell above the door chimes. The regulars smile like I'm part of the furniture now.
Dylan glances up from the decorating table, and I swear my whole body warms. He smiles in that slow, quiet way he only uses for me. His hair is tied back, his apron is dusted with powdered sugar, and his forearms look sinful while he ices a tier for next week's engagement celebration cake.
Our engagement celebration cake.
My mind still trips over that part sometimes.
He puts down the piping bag and crosses the space in a few long strides. His hands find my waist immediately. His kiss is soft at first, then deeper, as if he wants to make sure I understand how much he missed me in the hour I was gone.
"You are late," he murmurs against my lips.
"I brought coffee," I say, lifting the tray between us.
"I like you better than coffee," he says.
My knees nearly give out.
Before I can answer, Maddie charges out from behind the counter wearing a tiny apron and a grin big enough to split her face.
"Piper," she shouts. "Daddy said I can be the sprinkle flower girl."
"You absolutely can," I say, lifting her into my arms.
She hugs my neck with the full force of a six-year-old with limitless love. "And don't worry. If Daddy cries at the wedding, I'll give him a cookie."
"I don't cry," Dylan insists.
Maddie pats his cheek like he is the family pet. "You cry a little."
I kiss her forehead and set her down. She prances off to recruit customers for taste testing.
Dylan pulls me close again and lowers his voice. "The town is talking more about her sprinkle duties than the actual ceremony."
"Good," I say. "A sprinkle girl is chaos. The good kind."
