Page 72 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

EPILOGUE

E vening shadows lengthened across Warrick’s—no, their—porch as they sat on the swing, watching twilight descend over Whispering Pines. The festival had wound down, leaving them pleasantly exhausted but content.

Molly nestled against Warrick’s side, his arm a comforting weight around her shoulders. The gentle rocking motion combined with his steady heartbeat under her ear nearly lulled her to sleep.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through his chest.

She smiled, eyes still closed. “I’m thinking about how much has changed in such a short time. A few months ago, I was baking prediction cupcakes and dodging Elsie’s matchmaking schemes. Now I’m living with a tiger shifter who makes muffins growl.”

His chuckle vibrated against her. “Regrets?”

“Not a single one.” She opened her eyes, tilting her head to see his face. “You?”

“Only that I didn’t find you sooner.” His expression turned contemplative, golden eyes reflecting the last rays of sunset. “Three centuries of existence, and I never truly understood belonging until Whispering Pines. Until you.”

Molly’s throat tightened at the raw honesty in his voice. She shifted to face him more fully, her hand coming to rest against his chest where his heartbeat thrummed steady and strong beneath her palm.

“That’s quite a statement from someone who’s seen empires rise and fall.”

“It’s the truth.” His golden eyes held hers, unwavering. “I can’t imagine this town without you in it, Molly. I can’t imagine my life without you beside me.”

Words failed her momentarily. Instead, she rose to press her lips to his, pouring into the kiss everything she couldn’t articulate—gratitude, wonder, and the bone-deep certainty that this was exactly where she belonged.

The kiss deepened as Warrick’s arms encircled her, drawing her more firmly against him. His hand cradled the back of her head with exquisite gentleness, mindful of her healing injury even in passion. When they finally parted, Molly remained in the circle of his embrace, her head tucked beneath his chin.

They sat in comfortable silence as stars emerged, bright pinpricks against the darkening sky. Crickets chirped in the garden. A nightjar called from nearby woods.

“I should check on the bakery,” Molly said eventually, reluctant to break the peaceful moment. “I left some specialty orders cooling, and I need to prep for tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you,” Warrick offered immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You don’t have to. I can walk—it’s a lovely night.”

“I know I don’t have to.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet and into his arms. “I want to.”

The drive downtown took less than ten minutes. Main Street glowed with old-fashioned lamplights, most shops closed for the evening. The Bewitched Bakery stood dark except for a single light in the back kitchen—exactly as Molly had left it.

When she stepped out of the vehicle, a youthful cry came from down the street.

On the sidewalk half a block up, a child was crumpled on the concrete. Molly and Warrick took off running toward the child.

“Hey,” Molly called out, “you okay?”

A boy around eight years old, looked up with tears in his eyes. His knee was scraped and bleeding. Molly noted he had roller skates on.

“I fell and hurt my leg.” He sniffled.

Molly’s shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath, relieved that this wasn’t something life-altering.

“You poor thing.” She knelt beside him. “Let me see.”

“Molly,” Warrick said, “I’ll go ahead and open the shop while you take care of your patient.” She handed him the keys then turned back to the boy.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She gently pried the small hand from around his knee. The scrape wasn’t terrible, but she was sure it still hurt.

“What’s your name, young man?” she asked as she took a wipe from her purse and cleaned the wound.

“Brigg,” he replied with a sniffle.

“Have you been skating long, Brigg?”

“My whole life,” he said.

She chuckled thinking that he sounded like an old man instead of a youth. She pressed the wipe to the scrape.

Her hands warmed with a bit of healing magic. “Well, I think we got this under control. You’re going to be okay.” She began to stand and the boy grabbed her hand.

“Wait. You can’t go yet!” he said in a slightly panicked voice.

She didn’t understand his worry. “Why not?”

His eyes were big and she could tell he was thinking hard. “I-I can’t tell you.”

Her head tilted. “Can’t tell me what?”

“It’s a secret.”

“What is a secret?” She was about as confused as anyone could be. Had the child hit his head when he fell?

The boy sprang to his feet—well, skated feet. “I gotta go now. Thanks for your help.” He zipped away like a bat of hell. Then he did a jumping twist that made her breathe catch. For some reason, she felt like this had been a setup. But for what, she had no idea.

Turning toward the bakery, she tucked the disinfectant wipe into her purse to dispose of later and crossed the street.

Molly stepped inside the shop, inhaling the familiar scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and sugar—her personal form of aromatherapy. She flicked on the main lights and froze.

The bakery’s interior had transformed.

Rose petals carpeted the black and white tile floor. Dozens of candles floated at varying heights, filling the space with golden light. Pastel balloons hovered near the ceiling, each containing a tiny glowing fairy light that cast prismatic rainbows across the walls.

“What in the world...” she whispered, stepping further inside.

Movement caught her eye as Warrick emerged from behind the display case. But not the Warrick who had driven her here—this Warrick wore a tuxedo and looked hot enough to melt an ice sculpture.

“Warrick? How did you...” she gestured to his outfit. “You were just in the car with me.” Her eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked into place. The boy was a stall tactic for…

“What do you have planned?” Understanding dawned as Warrick stepped forward, then sank gracefully to one knee before her.

Time suspended. The world narrowed to his face, earnest and open in a way she’d never witnessed before. His hands produced a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that captured the candlelight in dazzling fractals.

“Molly Hues,” he began, his deep voice unusually husky with emotion. “You burst into my carefully ordered existence with chaos, color, and magic. You challenged my solitude, defeated my reservations, and claimed a heart I thought long immune to deep attachment.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the candlelight into starbursts. She blinked them away, unwilling to miss a moment of this miracle unfolding before her.

“Every day with you proves what my tiger recognized instantly—you are my mate, my partner, my home.” His golden eyes glowed with an intensity that stole her breath. “I’ve existed for a long time, but I only began truly living when I met you.”

The ring caught the light as he held it toward her—a stunning emerald surrounded by diamonds, the color uncannily matching her eyes.

“Will you grant me the honor of becoming my wife? Of building a future together that combines your sweetness with my strength? Of creating a home filled with love, laughter, and occasionally sentient baked goods?”

Laughter bubbled through Molly’s tears. Leave it to Warrick to include humor in the most romantic moment of her life. Her heart expanded almost painfully in her chest, overflowing with a joy so intense it bordered on agony.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice failing beneath the weight of emotion. Then louder, with absolute certainty: “Yes!”

She barely registered the bakery’s back door opening or the excited whispers from that direction. All her awareness centered on Warrick rising to his feet, sliding the ring onto her trembling finger, then gathering her into an embrace that felt like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.

His lips claimed hers in a kiss that sealed their commitment—tender yet fierce, gentle yet possessive. Molly’s arms wound around his neck, her body molding against his as if they’d been designed as complementary parts of a whole.

A collective squeal shattered their private bubble. She turned, astonished to find the bakery suddenly full of familiar faces. Celeste, Daisy, and Ellie emerged from behind shelving units, their excitement uncontainable. David, Kade, Reed, and several firefighters filed in from the back, clapping enthusiastically.

“Finally sealed the deal!” David called, punching Warrick’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“I told you she’d say yes,” Daisy crowed. “The cards never lie!”

“Wait,” Molly turned to Warrick, realization dawning. “They all knew? All of them?”

He had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “It takes a village to surprise a witch with psychic abilities.”

“We’ve been planning for weeks,” Celeste confirmed, crossing to embrace Molly. “Nearly killed us keeping it secret.”

“Especially since someone—“ Ellie nudged Daisy pointedly “—can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

“I managed this time!” Daisy protested, her pink hair bouncing indignantly.

Laughter filled the bakery as their friends crowded around, offering congratulations and demanding to see the ring. Molly displayed it proudly, the emerald catching the light with each movement of her hand. The stone’s deep green nestled among diamonds that glittered like stars.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered to Warrick when she had a moment to speak privately. “How did you know?”

“I pay attention,” he replied simply, his hand settling at the small of her back—that familiar, grounding touch she’d come to rely on. “And I had some help from Mari.”

“My sister was in on this too?” Molly’s eyes widened. “No wonder she’s been acting strange lately!”

Through the happy chaos, Warrick kept her anchored against him, his presence solid and reassuring. When she glanced up, the tender expression on his face—normally so reserved and controlled—nearly undid her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoes to reach his ear. “For letting them be part of this. For knowing how much they mean to me.”

“They’re family,” he replied simply. “Our family.”

Our family. The words resonated deep within her heart. After years of creating community through her bakery, of connecting people with her pastries and her magic, she’d found someone who understood exactly what she needed—belonging, connection, love.

As friends clinked glasses of champagne that materialized from somewhere, Molly’s heart swelled with gratitude. This moment—surrounded by loved ones, Warrick’s ring on her finger, his arm secure around her waist—represented everything she’d secretly hoped for but never dared expect.

The frosting incident at the social seemed a lifetime ago. Who could have predicted that an embarrassing magical mishap would lead to this perfect moment? Though perhaps she should have known—after all, she was the prediction cupcake expert.

“What are you smiling about?” Warrick murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

“Everything,” she answered truthfully. “The journey. The destination. The fact that my magical frosting had excellent taste in men.”

His laugh rumbled, warm and genuine. “Remind me to send that frosting a thank-you note.”

“I have a better idea,” Molly replied, twining her arms around his neck. “Let’s name our first child after it. Little Frosting Shaw has a certain ring to it.”

“Absolutely not.” But his eyes crinkled with amusement, his hands pulling her closer.

“Fine. We’ll discuss baby names later. Right now, I’d rather focus on celebrating our engagement.”

“As you wish, future Mrs. Shaw.” He bent to meet her halfway sealing their future with a kiss that promised forever—magic, chaos, and sentient baked goods included.

And in Whispering Pines, where magic entwined with everyday life, that promise guaranteed a chaotically perfect happily ever after.