Harper waves her hand like that doesn’t matter. “Venues are flexible. Elite bakers get booked months in advance.” She looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Zayn, back me up here. You’re the one who plans everything.”
It still catches me off guard when she treats me like an ally. A year ago, Harper would’ve consulted a houseplant before asking my opinion.
“I’m staying out of the cake debate,” I say, raising both hands in surrender. “That’s above my pay grade.”
“Coward,” Harper accuses, but there’s no real heat behind it. She squeezes in beside us and crouches to pet the Lab pup dozing at our feet. “Well, hello there, gorgeous. Aren’t you just the most handsome boy? Yes, you are.”
I watch her baby-talk to the dog, her tough exterior dissolving instantly. That’s Harper in a nutshell—all hard on the outside, total softie on the inside. That’s how we eventually found our equilibrium. She hated me because she loves Sophie fiercely, but once she witnessed I was genuinely committed to staying, she became one of my strongest supporter.
“What happened to your urgent wedding crisis?” Sophie teases, nudging Harper’s leg with her foot.
“Puppies trump cake,” Harper declares, straightening up. “But seriously, I need you two to make some decisions. Sara’s already designing calligraphy for invitations.”
I catch Sophie watching me past Harper’s shoulder. Her green eyes are soft and content, and my heart still kicks every time she looks at me like that. Last year at this same festival, she could barely maintain eye contact and when she did, she looked perpetually braced for disappointment. Now she observes me with quiet happiness as I handle the puppies, discuss adoptions with potential families, and banter with her friends who’ve gradually become mine too.
“Mr. Blackwell!” The mayor approaches our booth, hand extended. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
I shake his hand firmly, catching Sophie’s smile as Harper’s wedding talk gets temporarily derailed. “Mayor. Enjoying the festival?”
“Absolutely. That municipal code revision you handled for the town council? Outstanding work. Allows us to develop responsibly while preserving Bellrose’s character.” He claps my shoulder like we’re old friends. “Can you make Friday’s planning commission meeting? They’ve got some questions about implementation.”
“I’ll be there,” I confirm, feeling Sophie’s hand settle on my lower back—her subtle way of showing pride, which means more than any work compliment ever could.
The mayor departs, then Mrs. Granger from the library wants to discuss their digital lending program and potential copyright concerns. After her, the Johnsons thank me for keeping their son’s minor legal troubles out of the local paper. Each person who stops by reminds me of something amazing—I’m not just residing in Bellrose anymore; I’m really part of it.
“Well, look who it is, my favorite legal team,” Dr. Martinez says warmly, cutting off Harper’s return to wedding talk. She approaches with coffee in one hand and a leash in the other, attached to her ancient beagle who walks slower than molasses.
“Dr. Martinez,” I greet her, genuinely pleased to see the woman who gave Sophie her partnership.
“Elena, please,” she corrects me, like she has every single time for months. “We’re not in a courtroom.” She regards Sophie and me with a friendly smile. “The clinic acquired four new clients this morning from festival attendees. The new addition is already paying off.”
Sophie practically glows. “We’re completely booked for surgeries next week.”
“We couldn’t have managed it without your legal expertise,” Dr. Martinez tells me. “Cooper actually called yesterday asking if I’d sell him the parking lot for his new development.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask, though her expression already answers.
“I told him to contact my intimidating attorney with all the tattoos.” She winks at Sophie. “Who just happens to be engaged to my business partner.”
Satisfaction floods through me—partly professional pride, but mostly because she talked about Sophie and me like we belong together. A year ago, people called me “that lawyer who moved back” or “Reed’s friend” or worse, “Sophie’s ex-boyfriend.” Now I’m just myself, with my own standing in this community and my own network.
As Dr. Martinez walks away promising to return with adoption paperwork for the border collie pup she’s fallen for, I notice Harper studying me.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing,” she shrugs with a slight smirk. “Just reflecting on how much I used to despise you.”
“Harper!” Sophie says, sounding shocked, but I laugh.
“I earned it,” I admit without defensiveness.
“Yeah, you did.” Harper nods, then her expression softens unexpectedly. “But not anymore. You proved me wrong, Blackwell. Don’t screw this up and make me regret saying that.”
It’s the closest thing to full approval Harper’s ever offered, and I nod seriously while feeling genuinely grateful. “Never.”
The afternoon continues in a blur of adoptions and conversations. So many people know my name now, ask about cases I’m handling, or just shoot the breeze about town politics. Each interaction that treats me like I belong here adds another brick to this new life I’m building—something I couldn’t even imagine when I first returned to Bellrose desperately hoping for a second chance.
A little girl approaches our booth and presents Sophie with a wild rose she’s picked from one of the festival displays. “For the pretty animal doctor,” she whispers shyly.
