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How long would he wait for me?

I closed my eyes, heart thudding.

He was everything. Even when I pushed him away. And somehow, impossibly, he was still mine.

At least for now.

It was earlywhen Sophie pulled up outside our apartment in her little red hatchback, the sunglasses at the ready and pushed to the top of her head. Two to go cups of our favorite coffee sat in the cup holders.

“Good morning, science princess,” she chirped with the passenger window down. “We’re all gassed up. Ready to head back to the land of pie, porch swings, and warm hugs from your mother?”

I grinned and tossed my weekender bag in the back. “Only if you promise to keep your sunshine dialed down to medium.”

“After all that self-care and special treatment from Brooks last night, you’re grumpy?” She shook her head.

“It was lovely, don’t get me wrong. But I tossed and turned all night thinking about him.” I buckled and settled in for the few hours’ drive ahead. “And something tells me that was the whole point. He wants me wanting him.”

“Or maybe he just cares about you and wanted to help you relax. Either way, is it working?”

“What do you think?” My head rolled against the headrest to eye her.

“I think that someone really special only comes along once in your life. If I were in your shoes, I’d latch onto Brooks and never let go.”

“And I think Sophie Hatchett is a romantic at heart who watches too many rom coms and should cancel her membership to the Romance-Land Book Club.” I chuckled. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s listen to music.”

“Yes, let’s, because, thanks to Brooks, he supplied a playlist for our drive today.”

“Oh, my God. This man...” I shook my head, but I had to hand it to him. The beats were rocking with an eclectic mix of some oldies, songs from our high school and college days, and modern top tens. They kept us singing and bouncing in our seats the whole way.

The drive to Holly Creek always felt like a leisurely slow breath—buildings giving way to trees, car horns traded for quiet. Sophie and I detoured once for coffee and potato chips when I decided I needed carbs to face the combination of newborns and complicated feelings.

By the time we pulled into the long gravel drive at Richard and Vivian’s house, my stomach flipped in somersaults.

We gaped at their new home. It was stunning—classic and warm, with huge front windows, wraparound porch, and the signature Bellamy Brothers design flair. It had been a dream project of theirs to build a million dollar plus property with all the bells and whistles, and it shined.

Chelsea was on the porch bouncing baby Max in her lap while Paris performed cartwheels barefoot across the lawn.

“Mommy!” she screamed and pointed at us. “Aunt Maisy’s here! And she brought Sophie!”

“Hello, my precious Paris.” I got out of the car and greeted her, picking her little body straight up into my arms. “How do you like your new sister?”

“Isabella is her name. I got to pick it out,” she said, her eyes bouncing with excitement.

“Well, it’s a beautiful name,” Sophie said, taking Paris off my hands for her own hugs.

I jumped up the wide front steps and into Chelsea’s arms, cradling baby Max between us. “Oh. My. God. Look how big he’s getting all ready.”

“I told you. Changing so fast,” she said.

“Photos don’t do him justice. Now I’m going to have to come home more often, so I don’t miss his baby cuteness. It’ll be gone in a blink of an eye,” I complained.

“You know, Mom and I wouldn’t mind if you moved back, Maisy-girl.”

I snorted. “I don’t see a lot of positions for neuroscientists in the Holly Creek help wanted ads.” As much as I adored coming home often, I wasn’t so sure I’d ever move back entirely.

Inside, the house smelled like fresh bread and baby shampoo. Vivian emerged from the nursery holding the tiniest bundle I’d ever seen, her eyes tired but glowing.

“Maisy,” she whispered, as if saying my name too loudly might wake the baby. “Come meet Isabella.”