His mouth brushes my cheek. His smile touches my skin. "You made this town brighter."
"You made me stay," I whisper.
His arms tighten around my waist. "I gave you a guest room. You never left."
"You asked me to move in," I remind him.
"Only after you kept falling asleep in my shirt."
I look at him then, fully and openly, the way I did the night he asked me to marry him with a cupcake instead of a ring. His eyes soften immediately.
"You sure you are ready for this life?" he asks quietly. "A daughter. A bakery. A brother who video calls shirtless at least twice a week."
"Yes," I say with complete certainty. "I'm sure."
The way he exhales tells me he was waiting for that answer, even though we have been planning a wedding for two months.
He takes my hand and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. The gesture is slow and reverent. It sends a warm flutter straight through me.
"Stay after close," he murmurs. "I want you to taste something new."
I lift an eyebrow. "A new recipe."
His eyes darken. "Something like that."
Heat curls low in my stomach. "Yes, Chef."
He groans at the nickname and pulls me into a deeper kiss, one that makes my breath disappear and leaves me gripping the front of his apron for balance.
A customer clears her throat politely. Dylan pulls back with a shy smile that he would never admit to having.
"Later," he whispers.
"Later," I promise.
That evening, after the bakery is quiet and the ovens have cooled, I sit on the prep table while Dylan stands between myknees. The lights are dim. The smell of vanilla hangs in the air. His hands slide under my skirt as if he has spent the whole day thinking about it.
"Tell me again," he says softly, kissing the side of my neck.
"Tell you what," I breathe.
"That you are staying."
I wrap my arms around his shoulders. "I'm staying."
He lifts my chin and kisses me in a way that feels like a vow.
Not the aisle kind.
The forever kind.
The following Saturday,I wake up in Dylan's bed with sunlight streaming through the curtains and his arm draped across my waist. We have been living together for two months now, and I still sometimes wake up surprised that this is my life.
That this man is mine.
That this family is mine.
I slip out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him, but his arm tightens around me.
