Marshall sighs. “I feel outnumbered.”
“Welcome to the family,” I tell him.
Dessert turns into a production.
Honey-drizzled apples, yes, but also whipped cream, because the kids staged a protest, and suddenly everyone’s laughing too hard to argue.
Caleb gets honey on his nose. Eliza licks whipped cream off her finger and declares herself “the happiest.”
Abilene wipes sticky hands with infinite patience, smiling so wide it hurts to look at her.
“This is the best dinner,” Eliza announces loudly.
“The best,” Caleb agrees.
My throat tightens again, but I keep it light. “High praise.”
Later, when the kids are yawning, and the house settles into that soft, content quiet, they hug Abilene tight.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Eliza asks sleepily.
Abilene smiles. “If that’s okay.”
Caleb nods. “It’s more than okay.”
When the lights are off, and the porch creaks beneath us, the night cool and calm, Abilene leans into me.
No fireworks.
No big speech.
Just warmth. Laughter still echoing faintly in the walls. Honey lingering on our hands.
Rom-coms make love loud.
But this?
This is family.
And it’s perfect.
Epilogue
ABILENE
THREE MONTHS LATER
The Colter CreekRodeo smells of dust, sunscreen, leather, kettle corn, and anticipation.
It’s louder than the market ever is, music blaring from tinny speakers, kids shrieking as they dart between boots and belt buckles, the metallic clank of chutes opening and closing in the arena, but somehow, standing here behind my stall, it feels just as familiar.
Just… bigger.
My banner flutters in the warm afternoon breeze:
Sweet Haven Honey – Featuring Jewel Honey Infusion.
I still get a little flutter every time I see that name in print.
