The customer grins as she takes her receipt. “Well, that’s my cue to get out of the way.”
Emi’s cheeks go pink. “Thank you for coming in.”
“You too, dear,” the woman says, then leaves with zero urgency.
I set the bouquet on the counter between us. “For you.”
Emi touches one of the blooms. “They’re beautiful.”
“You deserve beautiful things.”
Her gaze lifts, playful but tender. “Are these because of last night?”
“They’re because you deserve a life full of good things. And I’m going to give you the sweetest life I possibly can.”
Her lips part. For a second, all the teasing leaves her face, and I see what’s beneath it. Hope. Want. Belief.
“Connor,” she whispers.
I wait.
Then she smiles. “Kiss me.”
I go around the counter.
The first cheer comes from somewhere near the romance display. Emi laughs against my mouth, but she doesn’t pull away. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her properly, right there in the middle of her bookstore, with flowers on the counter and her customers making noise around us.
6
EPILOGUE – EMI
1 YEAR LATER
“You’re doing it again,” Connor says.
I blink. “Doing what?”
“Staring at me.”
“I’m allowed to stare at my husband.”
His mouth curves as he shifts carefully in the restaurant booth. Our daughter sleeps strapped to his chest in a heather gray carrier, one tiny cheek pressed against his shirt and one little fist tucked beneath her chin. She’s six weeks old, impossibly small, and already the absolute ruler of our house.
Connor looks enormous with her against him. Massive shoulders, thick arms, strong jaw softened by the gentlest expression I’ve ever seen on a man. Every time he looks down at her, something in me melts into a useless puddle.
“You keep getting that look,” he says.
“What look?” I ask.
“Lost.”
I lean my chin on my hand and sigh. “It’s hard not to swoon when you have our baby girl strapped to your chest.”
His eyes warm, and he glances down at Louisa as if he still can’t quite believe she’s real. “She likes it here.”
“She likes you.”
“She has good taste.”
