Because maybe it is.
The bell jingles, and two women walk in who don’t belong in Devil’s Peak. Too polished. Too sharp. City perfume cutting through cocoa and coffee. One of them has Ellie’s eyes. The other has Ellie’s mouth, the same tight line it makes when she’s bracing for impact.
Ellie stills behind the counter. Not frozen. Just… ready.
Her mother sweeps her gaze over the shop like she’s inspecting a mistake. “So,” she says, voice crisp. “This is it.”
Ellie doesn’t flinch. “This is it.”
Her sister’s eyes dart to me, then away, like she’s deciding whether I’m a phase. “We heard about… everything,” she says, careful.
Ellie leans her elbows on the counter, unapologetic. “Yeah. I’m sure you did.”
Her mother presses her lips together. “We offered you a room.”
Ellie’s smile is all teeth. “You offered me a lecture.”
“That’s not fair,” the sister says.
Ellie shrugs. “It’s accurate.”
I watch Ellie’s hands. They’re steady. Not trembling. Not clenching. Steady like she’s finally standing on her own ground. Wade and Ellie moved to Devil’s Peak from Denver a decade ago and as far as I know, no one in their family has visited them here once. This is the first time I’m seeing this woman after a decade of friendship with Wade.
Her mother’s gaze flicks to my hand, where my wedding band sits like a quiet statement. “And this… marriage.”
Ellie’s eyes sharpen. “Is not up for debate.”
Her mother’s brow lifts. “Ellie. Be serious.”
Ellie straightens, and there’s a heat in her voice that makes the whole shop feel smaller. “I have never been more serious in my life.”
Her sister’s mouth parts. “Ellie?—”
Ellie cuts her off gently, which is new. “No. I’m done doing the thing where I shrink so you can feel tall. I built this. I kept it. I fought for it. And I’m not embarrassed of how.”
Her mother’s gaze flicks to me again. “You think this man?—”
Ellie’s voice goes quiet and deadly. “He’s not a ‘this man.’ He’s Wyatt. My husband.”
I take one step closer—not to speak for her, just to be there. Ellie’s shoulder brushes my chest, and she doesn’t move away.
Her mother’s nostrils flare. “You’re choosing a life that’s small.”
Ellie laughs once, soft. “No. I’m choosing a life that’s mine.”
A beat of silence.
Then Ellie gestures toward the crowd, the shelves, the warm glow of the shop. “Look around. This isn’t small.”
Her sister swallows, eyes shiny. “It’s… really beautiful.”
Ellie’s expression softens. Just a fraction. “I know.”
Her mother’s gaze hardens, but it can’t stick. Not here. Not with the town lined up and Ellie standing in the middle of her dream like she’s dared the universe to take it again.
Finally, her mother says, stiffly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Ellie meets her gaze. “I do.”
