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Archer, who is seated next to me and leaning close enough to hear every word, plucks the phone from my hand. “No, we most certainly don’t.”

“And you promise to take good care of Miss McKitty Face?”

One of the presents Archer surprised me with after our wedding was a little orange fluffball of a kitten. She’s a little bit of a nightmare between the shredding of the furniture and her insistence on using people’s shoulders as her personal perch, but we are both obsessed.

And I’m not sure I’ve seen anything hotter than Archer walking around the apartment with a tiny orange kitten on his shoulder. It’s my new phone wallpaper. I’m thinking about creating my own calendar where every month of the year is just Archer and McKitty Face.

“Yes, but I promise you Iwon’tbe calling her that,” Bellamy says. “Her name is Vivian. A perfectly distinguished name for a—ow! Remove your talons from my trousers, Vivian! I am not a trellis!”

“Good McKitty,” I coo, even though I doubt she can hear me. I catch Archer smiling. “Very distinguished.”

Bellamy grunts. “Anything else besides your adorably evil kitten? Any quirks to the apartment I should know about?”

Archer and I exchange a look. We never did tell Bellamy about the closet. Not because we didn’t think he’d believe us—Bellamy definitely seems like he would be all-in on the idea of magic in the building. But now, it feels like something that’s just more private. Something special just for Archer and me to share.

“Nope,” Archer says.

“But maybe … stay out of the closet,” I add quickly.

“Ah, is that where you’re hiding my Christmas presents?” Bellamy asks, sounding excited.

“It’s July,” Archer says drily. “Anyway, thank you for watching McKitty and goodbye.” He ends the call abruptly, then turns my phone off before handing it back. “There. That’s better.”

“What if I wanted to make another call?”

Archer raises a dark brow. “You already called your parents—twice—and Sophie. Do you really need to call anyone else?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine.” Archer leans back, crossing his arms. But there’s the tiniest quirk in his lips. “Make your call.”

I power my phone back on and turn the screen away so he can’t see it. “Fine. I will. But I need some privacy for this one.”

Archer looks ready to stop me as I get up, but he quickly gets distracted. I take advantage as he reaches in his pocket for his phone and duck around the corner and out of sight.

“Hello?”

Even over the phone, his low, rumbly voice has an impact on me. “Hello, Mr. Gaines.”

A pause. “Willow. What a lovely and unexpected surprise.”

I’m grinning like a fool. After he decided Willa the Person was too long of a nickname for me, Archer started calling me Willow. I like it a lot—something I never would have imagined the night we met. But it reminds me of how far we’ve come.

I couldn’t have imagined any of what followed. Honestly, had you asked me beforehand what was more believable, me falling in love with a grumpy billionaire or The Serendipity actually being magical, I probably would have gone with the magic building. The closet transports ended after Archer was transported from New York, though I’m still a little wary any time I enter Archer’s—now,our—closet.

I have no desire to appear in some other person’s closet again. I’ve got my person. And I can’t help but wonder if The Serendipity really somehow did shove us—literally and magically—together.

“Where are you right now?” Archer asks. A slight shift in background noise tells me he’s on the move.

We are at the airport. That’s right—theairport. La Guardia, to be exact.

This is maybe the only thing that could have surprised me more than falling in love with Archerorthe magic closet: finally making progress with my agoraphobia. I scaled back Serendipitous Sweets, supplying cookies to a few local bakeries rather than taking custom orders. For almost a year, I’ve focused on regular therapy with Judith and cognitive behavioral therapy with someone she recommended. As of a few months ago, I can leave Serendipity Springs without incident and without the overwhelming anxiety.

Okay, not entirely true. I feel anxious about getting anxious. It will be a while before I can leave town without wondering if I’m going to have an anxiety attack. Every time I go, there’s asense of worry leading up to it. But then … my heart doesn’t race, my lungs don’t stop working, and—best of all—I don’t barf.

I amfree.

Free to leave Serendipity Springs. Free to stay. Just …free.