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I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in—home, safety, Jack.

“You’re here,” I whisper. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.” He kisses my forehead.

I pull back slightly, brushing a bit of travel lint from his shoulder. “How was the project?” I ask, searching his face for signs of exhaustion.

Jack smiles. “It went well. Better than I expected, honestly. I enjoyed it—being on set again, creating something that mattered. I can’t wait for it to be out so you can see it.”

I rest my hands on his chest, heart blooming with pride. “I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes soften. “You were part of that, you know. You showing up every month—even when the days were long, even when I was impossible to reach—you helped more than you think.”

I smile, then tilt my head. “And… your mom?”

His smile fades slightly, but there’s something different in his expression—lighter, almost amused. He exhales. “She drove me to the airport.”

My eyes widen. “She did?”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “She even cried a little when we said goodbye. I wonder what that’s about.” There’s a small curve to his lips, like he’s not sure if he should be laughing or rolling his eyes.

I decide not to push.

Jack glances at the wall clock, then turns to me with a grin. “Think you can close up soon?”

I arch a brow, already reaching for the keys in the drawer. “For you? Always.”

He laughs, a low, warm sound that settles something deep in my chest. I flip the sign on the door toClosedand turn the lock with a final click. The shop goes quiet, the soft scent of dried lavender, peonies, and roses still lingering in the air.

Outside, the late evening breeze greets us, warm and gentle, tugging playfully at my hair as we walk to the car. Jack holds my hand like he’s never letting go, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles into the back of mine.

By the time we pull up in front of my house, the sky has faded into a deep velvet blue, the first stars beginning to scatter across it. The porch light glows softly as we climb the steps.

“I stopped by that Thai place you like before I got to your shop,” he says, lifting two brown paper boxes from his bag and placing them on the kitchen counter.

I let out a laugh. “You came bearing gifts, huh?”

He grins, then reaches into the other bag he brought in. “And,” he says, with a dramatic flourish, “I brought reinforcements.”

I blink as he pulls out a bottle of deep red wine and holds it up proudly.

“You really came prepared.”

Jack shrugs, that cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been away for four months. I had time to plan.”

He’s already moving around the kitchen, setting out plates, lighting the little candle I keep in the center of the table—the one I almost never bother to light when I eat alone. I lean against the doorway and watch him for a second. He looks so at home here. Like this is exactly where he belongs.

“I’ll go take a quick shower,” I say softly.

His head turns toward me. “Take your time. I’ve got everything under control.”

As I head down the hallway, I pause and glance back. Jack is carefully opening the wine, humming under his breath as he checks the food containers. He looks peaceful—content in a way I haven’t seen before. And in that moment, I know: This is real. This is ours.

The water runs hot over my skin, washing away the ache of missing him, the months of counting down days and late-night video calls and longing that sat quiet and constant beneath everything. I towel off quickly, pull on a soft dress, and return to find the table set perfectly.

Candles lit.

Wine poured.