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“I don’t want to run.”

“Then stay.” He touched his forehead to mine, the scent of him wrapped around me like a second skin, mixed with the aroma of overpriced Italian coffee. Warm, real, familiar.

“I’ve wasted too much time trying to forget you,” he said. “Turns out, I’m not built to forget.”

Tears threatened, but I blinked them back.

“Don’t forget me. I’m here,” I reassured. “I want to see what this becomes, even if it scares me senseless.”

“Good,” he breathed, his smile a slow, grateful thing. “Because I plan on kissing you, obsessing over you, and making you happy every day until you’re sick of me. And even then, I’m not letting you push me away.”

“It might take a long time before I’m sick of you.”

“Perfect. I’m very patient.”

We traded smiles until the coffee thing-a-ma jig beeped, and neither of us moved to check on it.

“Is this what healthy attachment feels like?” I teased.

“No,” he said, lips brushing mine. “This is whatfinally you’re minefeels like.”

I wrapped my arms and legs around his waist and kissed him in a sunlit kitchen,brewing coffee and hope.

This wasn’t the end of our story.

It was only the beginning.

By noon on Sunday,the clouds had parted and sunshine glowed golden over Holly Creek like it was celebrating our happiness too. Rex and Chelsea hosted a casual lunch out on their back deck, the grill smoking, the babies sleeping in their carriers, and Paris bouncing between everyone with a wildflower crown in her hair.

It was the kind of afternoon that made you believe in simple joys—the sound of laughter, the clink of iced tea glasses, the scent of grilled burgers and spring blooms. I’d miss it later once we headed back to the busy beat of the city.

As we all sat down to eat, Rex raised his glass and clapped Brooks on the back and casually asked, “So, how was Hops last night?”

Brooks glanced at me and smiled, hand brushing mine under the table. I blushed, but didn’t look away. With a squeeze that said ‘We’re doing this,’ he grinned.

“I think Maisy and I ended up in a good place.” he winked. It was a brilliant answer, ambiguous, teasing, enough to give our friends and family a hint that something was developing between us.

Then he went and finished it with a kiss on my lips. The table erupted in a chorus of cheers, whistles, and knowing looks, like they read right through us, anyway.

Paris clapped. “Yay. Does this mean more babies?”

“Paris!” Vivian nearly choked on her lemonade. “Not yet. Let’s give them a minute.”

With a twinkle in his eyes, Brooks leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Unless you’re ready for that…?”

I elbowed him, grinning. “Down, boy. Don’t scare me away before the sun has even set on this day.”

He chuckled and winked. And dammit, I tried not to imagine what it’d be like to hold his child, our child, in my arms.

After lunch and many goodbyes, and kisses on the heads of two sweet babies, Brooks and I kept our parting simple with a kiss at the car and a promise to talk more. We had a meeting scheduled for Wednesday, and I tried not to overthink the time between now and then.

Sophie and I loaded up for our drive back to the city. She took the wheel while I curled up in the passenger seat, heart still floating from everything that had happened.

“Well?” she asked after a few miles.

“Well, what?”

She shot me a look. “Did you finally tear up the V card?”