Page 63 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

“Me too,” Robyn said, and then she shifted, turning carefully in his arms until she was facing him. In the dim light he could just make out her eyes. They were still bright around the edges, still tender, but calmer now somehow.

She lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you yet,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“For… showing up.” Her voice wavered, then steadied. “For not making me feel like I have to earn you. For being in my life at all.”

Tyler caught her wrist gently, kissed her knuckles once, then let his hand slide back to her waist.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I know.” Robyn’s mouth tipped into the smallest smile, the kind that looked like it cost her a little courage. “But I want to.”

And then she leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft and unhurried, nothing like the claiming, intense passion of last night. Just a slow press of her mouth to his, a quiet kind of intimacy that felt like coming home. Tyler kissed her back just as gently, his hand settling at her hip, holding her there as if he could keep the world from getting in again.

When they finally broke apart in the quiet, her breathing started to slow. The tension in her shoulders eased, inch by inch. Tyler felt her finally settle, as if her body recognized something her mind was still catching up to.

He lay back, his head propped up on the pillows, and Robyn curved into him, her head resting on his chest.

“Good night, Tyler,” she said, eyes growing heavy.

“Night, Robyn,” he replied, his thumb slowly rubbing her back in time with her breaths.

Within minutes, Robyn was asleep.

Tyler stayed awake a little longer, staring into the dark, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

The world could do whatever it wanted tomorrow.

Tonight, she was here.

And for now, he wasn’t letting go.

TWENTY-NINE

ROBYN

Robyn woke the next morning in semi-darkness, the sounds of the house waking up around her. The room was dim, the sheets warm. Tyler’s heavy duvet was pulled up snug over her shoulders like it had been tucked there on purpose.

For a few blissful seconds, she didn’t move. She just lay there, listening. The faint creak of the house settling. A cupboard closing somewhere down the hall. The low murmur of running water.

Then memory slid into place: Tyler’s arms around her waist, his mouth pressed to the top of her head, the steady warmth of him behind her. The way she’d finally fallen asleep feeling safe and cherished.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Tyler slipped inside wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, a mug of coffee in each hand. Behind him, Emma’s voice carried down the hall—bright, insistent, full of that kid energy that only existed before 7:30 a.m.

“Dad, did you pack me any fruit snacks?” she was saying. “I told Chloe I’d bring fruit snacks for us to share today.”

Tyler leaned his head back out the door with the patience of a man who had heard a thousand versions of this question. “I put two packs in your lunch bag,” he called, then stepped back into the room and nudged the door mostly shut again.

“I thought you might be awake,” he murmured, crossing to the bed. “Emma’s loud enough in the morning to wake the neighbors.”

He handed Robyn one of the mugs.

“Sorry,” Robyn said automatically, sitting up and accepting it. A wave of guilt washed over her. “I didn’t mean to sleep in.”