“You told me you wouldn’t be chosen out of convenience. That you’d be chosen for who you are or you’d be alone.” Her voice broke. “So I’m here. I’m choosing you for exactly who you are. The man who shows up. The man who builds things. The man who loved me enough to walk away rather than be half-wanted.”
I let the words wash over me.
This was real. She was here. She was saying the things I’d stopped letting myself hope she’d ever say.
“If you’ll still have me,” Grace whispered.
She was looking at me not like a friend, but like someone who had finally decided what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to reach for it.
“You’re sure?” The question scraped out of me—the last wall. The one I needed her to break herself. “Because I can’t do this halfway, Grace. I love you too much to be something you settle for.”
“I’m sure.” No hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I held her gaze for one more breath. Long enough to be certain this wasn’t fear talking. Long enough to know this was a choice.
Then I kissed her.
My hands found her face, cradling it the way I’d imagined a thousand times. Her skin was cold from the morning air. Her lips were warm. She tasted like cinnamon and something sweeter—something that was just Grace—and I poured sixteen years of wanting into that kiss.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. The baby kicked between us, hard enough that I felt it against my stomach, like she was insisting on being part of this.
I broke the kiss, laughing.
“She’s got opinions,” Grace said breathlessly.
“Good.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “She should.”
My hands slid to her shoulders, steadying her. Steadying myself. I could feel the tremor in my arms—the aftermath of holding myself so carefully for so long and finally letting go.
“I love you,” I said. The words came easier than I expected. Like they’d been waiting. “God, Grace. I love you so much.”
“I know.” Her hand found my cheek again, her thumb tracing my jaw. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see.”
“You see me now.” I turned my head and kissed her palm. “That’s all that matters.”
A wolf whistle cut through the quiet.
I looked up. Liam stood in the bay door, coffee in hand, not even pretending he hadn’t been watching. He raised his mug in a salute.
I flipped him off without letting go of Grace.
She laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of her—and the sound cracked something open in my chest. I’d missed that laugh. Missed making her laugh. Missed the way her whole face changed when she let herself be happy.
“The whole station is probably watching,” she said.
“Let them.”
She looked up at me, eyes wet, smiling. “Take me home?”
Home. The B&B. The place I thought I’d lost three days ago when I drove away.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
“I’ll drive,” I added when we finally pulled apart. “You shouldn’t be behind the wheel right now.”
Grace didn’t argue. That told me everything about how exhausted she was. She handed me her keys and let me help her into the passenger seat.
“Your truck?—”
