Page 13

epilogue- a year later

. . .

Hazel

The scent of vanilla and brown butter fills the air as I watch the numbers on Finn’s laptop screen climb higher than either of us ever imagined possible.

“Haze, you’re not going to believe this,” he says, his green eyes practically glowing as he turns the screen toward me. “Revenue is up forty percent from last year, and we’re booked solid for private events through October.”

I pause in my stirring, the wooden spoon heavy with my latest creation—a maple bourbon swirl that I’m hoping will become our fall signature.

The diamond on my left hand catches the afternoon light streaming through the shop windows, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the stainless steel countertop.

Even after three months, I still find myself stealing glances at it, remembering the way Finn’s voice cracked when he dropped to one knee right here in the middle of Sinfully Sweet, still wearing his volunteer apron from the ice cream festival.

“Forty percent?” I set down the spoon and lean against the counter, grinning. “Remember when you said my business plan was ‘charmingly optimistic’?”

“I said ‘ambitiously optimistic,’” he corrects with a laugh, closing the laptop and moving around the counter to wrap his arms around my waist. “And I was wrong. You weren’t ambitious enough.”

I melt into his embrace, my sugar-dusted hands finding their way to his chest. “Well, someone did help me set up that new point-of-sale system and redesign the website,” I tease, tilting my head back to look at him.

“I seem to remember a certain tech genius working until two in the morning to get our online ordering ready for the festival.”

“That certain tech genius was properly motivated,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Something about wanting to impress his future wife.”

The word still sends a thrill through me. Wife. After years of insisting I didn’t have time for romance, here I am, engaged to the boy next door who never stopped believing we were meant to be.

“Speaking of impressing,” I wiggle out of his arms and grab a clean spoon, “try this.”

I dip it into the maple bourbon mixture and hold it out to him. His eyes close as he tastes it, and I watch his expression shift from curiosity to pure delight.

“Hazel Brown,” he says slowly, opening his eyes, “you’re going to put every other ice cream shop on the East Coast out of business.”

“Just the East Coast?” I laugh, already reaching for my notebook to jot down the recipe. “I was aiming for world domination.”

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up to see a familiar flash of blonde hair.

“Helen!” I exclaim, quickly wiping my hands on my apron. “I thought your flight wasn’t until tonight.”

My twin sister strides in with her signature city swagger, designer sunglasses perched atop her head, wheeling a sleek carry-on behind her. Despite living in entirely different worlds, seeing her still feels like looking into a funhouse mirror—same face, completely different packaging.

“Changed it. Couldn’t wait to see my baby sister,” she says, then raises an eyebrow at Finn. “And her surprisingly competent fiancé.”

Finn chuckles, unfazed by Helen’s backhanded compliment. After years of her skepticism, he’s grown immune. “Nice to see you too, Helen.”

“How’s Boston?” I ask, already reaching for a scoop to prepare her usual—dark chocolate with sea salt.

Helen leans dramatically against the counter. “Exhausting. Exhilarating. Expensive.” She eyes my engagement ring. “Not nearly as sparkly as your life, apparently.”

I hand her the ice cream, which she accepts with a grateful sigh. “I’ve taken the week off to help with the wedding plans.”

“Both Brown girls in Starlight Bay at once? Mom’s going to lose her mind,” I laugh, then pause. “Wait—did you say ‘help’ with wedding plans?”

Helen takes a deliberate bite of ice cream. “Well, someone has to make sure this small-town wedding has at least a touch of sophistication.”

Finn catches my eye across the counter, his expression a perfect mix of amusement and horror. We’d been planning something simple—maybe right here in the shop or on the beach where we had our first real kiss.

“Helen,” I begin carefully, “we were thinking something small...”

“Small can still be spectacular,” she interrupts, waving her spoon.

“Besides, I’ve already spoken to that empty warehouse space by the harbor.

You know, the one with those huge windows?

A wedding coordinator is flying in next week to look at it with us.

He says he knows a guy who can transform any space into a ‘dream venue’ in under a month. ”

I shoot Finn a panicked look.

“Helen,” Finn says gently, sliding an arm around my waist, “we appreciate the enthusiasm, but Hazel and I were thinking more along the lines of something intimate. Maybe right here or down at Lighthouse Point.”

My sister’s perfectly glossed lips form a small ‘o’ of horror.

“You can’t get married in an ice cream shop!

What would you even—” She stops suddenly, noticing my expression.

“Fine. Your wedding, your rules. But at least let me help with your dress. And the cake. And maybe just a few tasteful decorations.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll consider the dress help. The rest is negotiable.”

Helen’s face softens as she takes another bite of ice cream. “This is really good, by the way. What is it, a new flavor?”

“Just your regular dark chocolate sea salt,” I reply, turning back to my experimental batch. “But I’m working on something special for the wedding. Thinking of calling it ‘First Kiss’ – vanilla bean with a strawberry swirl and champagne-infused white chocolate chunks.”

“Now that,” Helen says approvingly, “sounds worthy of a Brown-Morgan union.”

Finn moves back to his laptop but keeps his eyes on me. “Speaking of the Morgan side, my parents want us over for dinner tonight. Dad’s threatening to bring out the projector for baby pictures.”

“Oh god,” I groan, but there’s no real dread behind it. The Morgans have been my second family since before I could walk. “At least wait until Helen’s had a full day to recover from her flight before subjecting her to vintage Finn footage.”

Helen perks up. “On second thought, I’m feeling quite refreshed. Baby Finn pictures sound delightful.”

The shop door chimes again, and Mrs. Abernathy walks in with her grandson in tow. I straighten up, professional mode kicking in, but Finn beats me to it.

“Mrs. A! And little man Tommy! What can we get you today?” he asks, already reaching for the kid-sized cups.

As Finn handles the customers with the ease of someone who’s been working here for years rather than someone who still technically has another job, I watch him, this man who’s become so seamlessly woven into the fabric of my life and business.

The diamond catches the light again, and I remember his whispered words after I’d said yes: “I’ve been waiting to ask you that question since we were kids. ”

Helen sidles up next to me, following my gaze. “You know,” she says quietly, “I always thought you were crazy for coming back here. For choosing ice cream over a ‘real career.’” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “But seeing you now... I get it.”

I bump her shoulder with mine. “High praise from the city girl.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she warns, but her smile is genuine. “So, when do I get to try this experimental maple bourbon whatever? Future maid of honor privileges should include taste-testing rights.”

I grab a fresh spoon and dip it into the mixture. “I didn’t realize you were volunteering for maid of honor duties.”

Helen rolls her eyes. “As if you’d ask anyone else.”

As my sister savors the new flavor, making appreciative noises, I look around my shop—at Finn charming customers, at the chalkboard wall covered in local children’s drawings, at the line of specialty pints in the display freezer bearing the Sinfully Sweet logo Finn designed.

One year ago, this was all just beginning.

Now, it feels like the foundation of everything I ever wanted.

“Well?” I ask Helen. “Verdict on the maple bourbon?”

She licks the spoon clean. “I’d say it’s a lot like your life choices, Hazel—unexpectedly perfect.”