"There's my favorite niece!" she coos, taking the baby from me. "And her mom, who better have brought me a full report."
I laugh, the sound coming easily now. "Every detail, I promise."
Rowan's eyes study my face, noting the changes that even I can feel, the relaxed set of my shoulders, the way I'm standing tall instead of making myself small and unnoticeable.
"You look different," she says, her voice softening. "Good different."
"I feel different." I glance around the café, taking in the afternoon regulars, the staff moving efficiently behind the counter, the space I've poured myself into for months.
"Everything feels different."
Axel sets our bags down, his arm slipping naturally around my waist. "I should head home, shower, change. Give you two some time to catch up."
I turn to him, suddenly reluctant to let him go even for a few hours. "You'll come back for dinner?"
His smile tips into something darker, eyes holding mine like a secret. "Try to stop me." He dips in, his mouth catching mine for a heartbeat. It’s not a polite kiss, his lips are firm, lingering, a silent reminder of everything he could take if I asked.
When he pulls away, my pulse is thundering, my skin tingling with the memory of his mouth. He knows it too, and I see the satisfaction flicker in his gaze.
I watch him walk away, broad shoulders filling the doorway like he owns every room he enters. The usual knot of dread doesn’t surface. There's no voice in my head whispering that he won't come back, that this is temporary, that I shouldn't trust the happiness unfurling in my chest.
"So," Rowan says, bouncing Poppy on her hip. "It worked? The custody thing is settled?"
I nod, the reality still sinking in. "More than settled. Elliot signed away all parental rights. He's gone for good."
Her eyes widen. "Just like that?"
"It's a long story," I say, not ready to get into the details of the confrontation, the evidence, the recording that proved just how dangerous Elliot really was. "But yes. It's over."
"And what about you two?" She nods toward the door where Axel just exited.
A smile tugs at my lips, impossible to suppress. "That's… not over. Not by a long shot."
Rowan's answering grin is knowing, approving. "Good. He's one of the good ones."
"The best," I agree, the simple truth of it settling in my bones.
I move behind the counter, running my hand over the familiar equipment. The espresso machine I've cleaned a thousand times. The register I've balanced every night. The display case I've arranged and rearranged.
For months, Pike's Perk has been my fortress, the place I retreated to, the structure I controlled when everything else felt chaotic. But now, looking around at the warm lighting, the comfortable chairs, the staff who greet me with genuine smiles, I realize it's become something else entirely.
Not a hiding place. Not a fortress. Just mine. My café. My life.
I grab an apron from the hook, tying it around my waist with practiced movements. The familiar weight of it settles around me, comforting rather than confining.
"You don't have to jump back in today," Rowan says, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "Take some time."
I shake my head, smiling as I pull my hair back into a ponytail. "I want to. This is where I belong."
The words hang in the air, simple but profound. This is where I belong. Not because I'm hiding, not because I have nowhere else to go, but because I've chosen it. Because I've built something here that matters, a business, relationships, a life that's truly mine.
I step up to the counter as the bell chimes, signaling a new customer. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don't tense at the sound. Don't automatically check to see if it's a threat, if it's someone watching me, if it's Elliot somehow finding me again.
Instead, I smile at Mrs. Henderson as she approaches, her usual order already half-formed in my mind.
"Welcome to Pike's Perk," I say, the words no longer a script but a promise, to myself, to Poppy, to this town that's become home when I wasn't looking.
Hours later, after the last customer has left and the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the café floor, I wipe down the counter one final time. The familiar routine feels different now, less frantic, less like I'm erasing evidence of my existence and more like I'm simply closing up my business.
