Page 22 of The Only Road Back

BETH

A week after the baby shower, I still haven’t answered one of Mom’s calls. Five times in three days. I watch her name flash on my phone, then turn it over every time.

I don’t need updates, but Lori gives them anyway.

“Guess who finally got fired?” she blurts as soon as I pick up.

I let the question hang because I know. Plus, I don’t want to ruin her surprise. I know how badly she wants to tell me.

“Clark.” She’s practically purring. “Skipped work too many times for his precious fiancée, and now he’s out on his ass.”

I let out a short laugh. “Can’t say he didn’t earn it.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Lori’s voice bounces with energy. “Stephanie’s on a rampage, demanding to know how he’ll support her and the baby with no job.”

I picture Clark sulking around town, the weight of his mistakes finally sinking in. “And what’s he saying?”

“Nothing. Just moping. He’s finally realizing he had it good and threw it away.”

“Good,” I say. “Let them enjoy each other. I’m officially out of the drama business.”

Lori sighs. “It’s wild how much things have changed for you. You’re living a whole new life.”

I glance around the kitchen—fresh flowers on the windowsill, the battered wooden table where Jack and I share breakfast, the new photos we’ve hung. The place feels different. I feel different.

“Yeah. I really am.”

Business is busier than I ever dreamed. It started with helping Jack and Henry sort their books, but word got out fast. Now, Mrs. Abernathy from the bakery, Carol from the diner, and even the gruff guy from the hardware store show up at my door.

Last week, I made it official: I registered my own accounting business.

Beth Harrison & Co.

Okay, the “& Co.” is aspirational. But maybe not for long.

“You’d love it here,” I tell Lori, setting my coffee down. “The people are incredible. The town is straight out of a postcard. And honestly? I need my best friend. Or at least a business partner.”

She snorts. “I knew it. You want free labor.”

I laugh. “I want you to be happy. And I think this place could do that for you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her voice softer than before when she says, “Maybe.”

Not a yes. But not a no. I’ll take it.

“I’ve gotta go,” she says. “Talk to you later.”

“All right. Take care.”

The next morning, I wake to the smell of coffee and the sound of Jack moving around the kitchen. I smile into my pillow. He’s humming.

I shuffle out and find him at the stove, hair askew, flipping pancakes. He glances back with a grin. “Morning, sweetheart.”

I wrap my arms around him from behind. “Morning.”

He turns and kisses my forehead. “Coffee’s ready.”

“You’re my hero.” I take the mug he hands me and sit at the table.

He plates pancakes and eggs, places them on the table, and then sits across from me. He holds up the syrup.

“Please.”

He lathers them up. “What’s your day look like?”

I take a bite of the pancake and savor it. “Meeting with Mrs. Abernathy about taxes. Then I’m helping Carol set up her new bookkeeping software.”

He nods. “Look at you. Official and everything.”

I grin. “Who would’ve thought?”

He leans back, fork tapping his plate. “We should take a weekend trip. Just us. No work, no distractions.”

I pause long enough to take another bite. They are so good.

After I swallow, I answer him. “You? Take a break from the garage? That’s not your style.”

He feigns a wounded look. “Hey, I can relax. Sometimes.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Where would we go?”

He sips his coffee, mischief in his eyes. “Cabin in the woods. Hot tub. No cell service. More pancakes than we can

possibly eat.”

I stifle a laugh. “Pancakes are a requirement?”

He winks. “Non-negotiable. Also, hiking. Or not. We can just see how many pancakes it takes to regret our choices.”

My heart skips. “That sounds perfect.”

He grins. “So, will you run away with me for the weekend? Pancakes and all?”

I pretend to consider. “If there’s whipped cream, I’m in.”

He lifts my hand, kisses my knuckles. “Done.”

That afternoon, I walk through town and wave to neighbors I never thought I’d know. Mrs. Abernathy insists I take a cinnamon roll home. Jack sneaks a kiss in the garage while Henry grumbles about public displays. I duck into my tiny office, just a room above the florist, but mine.

Something settles inside my chest. This is my life now. I built it.

That night, Jack and I sit on the porch, shoulders pressed together, watching stars burn holes in the dark sky.

He says, “What’re you thinking about?”

I close my eyes and breathe in the night. “How lucky I am.”

He kisses my hair. “Me too.”

I turn and search his face. “You really think this is forever?”

His green eyes are steady and sure. “I know it is.”

And I think he’s right.