They leave, and suddenly it's just me and Boone again.
"I should go," he says reluctantly. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. Few hours, maybe."
"Take your time. Fix what needs fixing." I kiss him softly. "I'll still be here."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He kisses me once more, then grabs his work gloves and hat from the hook by the door. "Lock the door behind me. And ifanyone shows up who's not one of the ranch owners, you don't answer. Got it?"
"Got it."
"And Nicole?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
My heart swells. "I love you too."
He leaves, and I watch from the window as all three of them pile into Mason's truck and drive off toward the north pasture.
Then I'm alone in Boone's cottage, wearing his flannel, smelling like his soap, still feeling the ache between my legs from how thoroughly he fucked me this morning.
I should probably feel weird about this. About how fast everything happened. About the fact that twelve hours ago I was locked in a bathroom at a shitty party, and now I'm in a relationship with the man I've loved for three years.
But I don't feel weird. I feel happy.
Like every choice, every moment, every scared decision led me exactly here. To this cottage. To this man. To this future we're building together.
I look around the cottage. At the books stacked everywhere. At the horse tack by the door. At the worn furniture that's seen years of use. This could be my home. Our home. If things work out. If we can navigate the complications and compromises and challenges ahead.
But looking around at this space that so perfectly reflects the man I love, I can't imagine wanting anything else.
I finish the eggs Boone made, wash the dishes, and curl up on his couch with one of his books. Something about horse training that I probably won't understand but want to try anyway.
And I wait for him to come home.
Because that's what this is now. Home.
Not my shitty apartment above the hardware store. Not my childhood house where my parents died. Not the abstract concept of someplace far away where dreams might come true.
Home is here. With Boone. Building something real.
And for the first time in years, I'm not scared of staying.
I'm excited about it.
Epilogue - Boone
Two Years Later - Santorini, Greece
The sunset is perfect.
I planned it that way. Bribed the hotel concierge. Checked weather forecasts obsessively for weeks. Made sure we'd arrive in Santorini on this exact day, at this exact time, when the light would paint the white buildings gold and turn the Aegean Sea into liquid fire.
Nicole stands at the terrace railing, staring out at the caldera, completely oblivious to the string quartet setting up behind her. She's wearing a white sundress that hugs her curves, her short blonde hair lifted by the warm breeze. She's tan from our two weeks traveling through Europe—Italy first, then a week in Ireland, and now Greece.
