Page 196 of With a Cherry On Top

“Did you mean that?”

I rub her hip. “I was getting to it, yes.”

Her shoulders relax, but her frown is quick to take over. “You’re not saying it because I said it, right? Because you don’t have to. If you don’t feel that way, I?—”

“I love you, Charlotte. I love you because you make it easy every time you’re difficult. Because it comes as natural as breathing, because it feels like an instinct rather than a choice.” I smile on her lips. “I’m saying I love you because I do. And I don’t intend to stop any time soon.”

“Aaron,” she says breathlessly. “I love you too.”

Her lips part for me like they always do—trusting, open, with that quiet hum that makes my knees weak. I bury a hand in herhair, the strands familiar between my fingers, and she sinks into me like she knows I’ll catch her. We kiss like we’ve done it a thousand times and still can’t get enough.

When we part, I press my lips to her forehead and we continue lightly swaying on the spot.

“So what happens now?”

“Well, we enjoy being boyfriend and girlfriend. You find your footing in the world, with me one step behind you.”

“All the way?”

“All the way.”

She leans back to look at me. “I’m excited to get to know Amelie. And...to decide what to do with my life.”

“You’ve got time for that.”

“What areyougoing to do?”

“Actually, I . . . I’m going back to work for Ian.”

Her eyes widen. “Not Amelie?”

“Turns out I like a more peaceful cooking environment.”

She hums. “I did see you move garnish around a plate for twenty straight minutes once.”

“Yeah. Perfectionism.”

“Or psychosis,” she mumbles.

She kisses me before I can rebut, and when her lips leave mine, I can’t remember what I wanted to say anyway. “We’ll figure it all out together. Right?”

“Right.” Her chest presses against mine. “Unless...are you gonna break my heart, Chef?”

“Not even a chance.”

She grins, green eyes twinkling. “Looking forward to it.”

Epilogue: Cherry On Top

TEN YEARS LATER

I check the time once again, nervously biting my bottom lip. 8.30 p.m. She said she’ddefinitelycome, and based on the last few months, I think that means there’s an 80 percent chance that she’ll actually show up.

Maybe . . . 70.

My texts from this afternoon remain unanswered, which is also not exactly news, but she has to come, right? She wouldn’t forget. Probably. Oh, boy. She’s standing me up, isn’t she?

“I’m here, I’m here,” Sadie says as she turns the corner and comes into view. Immediately, I exhale in relief. “Mom says hi.”

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