Page 164 of The Apple Tree

“I love you,” she said softly to him. “I’m going to make you proud, but not because I have to, just because I want to.”

“Eve,” he said her name, and his voice cracked with emotion.

She sniffled, and I continued to the kitchen.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be worth it.

EPILOGUE

FAITH HILL & TIM MCGRAW, “IT’SYOURLOVE”

10 years later …

Eve

Colorado.

Alabama.

Washington.

“We’re done moving,” I said. “So you can take those flowers and shove them up your?—”

“Tell Mommy to watch her mouth,” Kyle said to our four-year-old twin girls, Bonnie and Louise, as he split the bouquet in half.

They walked behind the counter to give me the flowers in exchange for caramel apple cookies. I put the flowers in water while the girls sat at a café table by the window. My bakery opened in fifteen minutes.

“I got the call,” Kyle said, wrapping his arms around me.

I refused to look at him. “The call” was code forpack everything up, he got a new job, and it was time to move.

“I’m not going. Ifinallyopened my bakery. Josh graduates in three years. The girls love it here. Clifford has room to roam.My orchard is thriving. So no.” I shook my head and refused to look at him even though his face was inches from mine. “It’s my turn.”

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he said on a chuckle.

“I’m not mad. I’m matter-of-fact. And don’t think of it as sexy because I’m not having sex with you ever again if we’re moving. In fact, I’m not moving. I’ll keep the kids and the dog, and you can leave. You’re getting kind of old anyway. It might be time to trade you in for a younger model.”

“Baby,” he lowered his voice, brushing his lips along my ear, “I don’t know where to start. First, we’ve already had sex twice today, and it’s not even nine a.m. So your sex threats don’t hold up.”

I glanced over at the girls to see if they were listening to us.

“Second,” he continued, “no other man could handle you. They’d try to tame you, and that would be a crime.”

I frowned at his nonsense. “Whatever call you got, call them back and tell them no.”

“I can’t. I already said yes.”

“Kyle,” my voice cracked as I felt my dreams slipping away. I had only had my bakery for nine months.

We always moved for his job, chased his dreams. But he promised when we bought land with an apple orchard outside of Seattle, it would be the last time. He said he’d be content with coaching high school football and teaching math while supportingmydreams.

We’d painted rooms.

Made friends.

Found a church the girls liked.

He even built the girls and me a hut.

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