Page 97 of Bennett

Laurel nodded. “He’s great. Everything checked out, for them and me.”

After her father had given her his blessing yesterday, she’d given her lawyer the greenlight to get things rolling.

Still, the decision felt a little surreal, like she’d accidentally wandered into someone else’s big life moment and was too polite to leave. Mark had said it was time to stop waiting for a perfect sign and start trusting her gut. Which was terrifying, because her gut also once told her gas station sushi was a good idea.

“In fact,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’m meeting him in forty minutes to finalize it all.”

Pride was bright in Annie’s eyes as she smiled from the booth. “You’re doing it, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, her chest expanding. “I think I am.”

“So exciting.” Rylee grabbed her bag and tea. “Brandi and I will meet you at Winslow Crossing later to help you celebrate by looking at paint swatches. And I want updates on your bookstore name.”

Laurel laughed. “Noted. See you there.”

***

Late that afternoon, Laurel parked behind Winslow Crossing and sat for a moment, taking it all in. The distant clang of construction and the occasional squawk of a seagull gliding overhead. The building rose in front of her, unfinished, imperfect, full of possibilities.

Amazing.

She gripped the steering wheel, her heart fluttering in that weird space between exhilaration and what-the-hell-was-she-doing.

Now, she had paperwork filed with the county, a tax ID number, and a lease agreement for a space that still smelled like drywall and ambition. She’d signed documents declaring herself the owner of a business that didn’t technically exist yet—and was suddenly responsible for things like occupancy permits, vendor accounts, and figuring out how to not accidentally electrocute herself installing a fancy espresso machine.

She grabbed her keys, stepped out of the car, and headed for the back of the building. The late sun painted the structure in long shadows, highlighting its clean lines. A shared receiving area ran behind all four storefronts, with an elevator flanked by two stairwells. One was original, timeworn and narrow, the other was new and wider, built to meet code. Laurel passed both,her shoes tapping against the concrete as she approached the inside entrance to the store on the far right.

That spot had always been her favorite.

As a little girl, she’d curl up near the front window with a stack of books while Uncle Jim worked. It had been the quietest corner, a tucked-away sanctuary of stories and sunlight. Even now, stepping inside gave her the oddest sense of homecoming.

She expected silence.

What she got was the faint sound of voices and laughter.

Rounding the corner into the common area of her new shop, she blinked in surprise. Brandi stood beside a folding table with a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and twine. Rylee was cracking open a bottle of bubbly with a gleam in her eye. Matthew held a pack of plastic cups. And Bennett—tall, solid, infuriatingly appealing—leaned against the freshly primed wall like he’d been there all along.

“Surprise!” Brandi grinned, offering the flowers. “For the new shop owner with excellent taste in real estate.”

Laurel took the bouquet slowly, caught off guard. “What is this?”

“A mini celebration,” Rylee said as she poured. “Because signing your name on that lease deserves more than a quiet moment in your car.”

Matthew handed over a cup, and Bennett stepped forward, his voice quiet but steady. “To new beginnings.”

Laurel’s gaze swept the space. Unfinished walls, dusty floors, and the ghosts of childhood memories tucked in every corner sent warmth swirling through her chest.

She smiled and raised her cup. “To dreams that don’t go away. Even when you try to ignore them.”

They clinked their plastic cups together, the bubbly slightly warm and a little flat, but perfect all the same.

Brandi spun in a slow circle, taking in the open space. “I can already picture cozy chairs, shelves everywhere, and a menu board with cheeky drink names. Let me know if you want me to help you with any of it.”

Still smiling, Laurel nodded.

“Definitely needs a reading nook,” Rylee added, already eyeing the corner by the front window. “And plants. You’re legally required to have plants in a place like this.”

Matthew chuckled. “I volunteer to taste-test all coffee before it’s sold to the public.”

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