Page 84 of The Fall Back Plan
“I am not.”
“Here’s your update,” I call loud enough for the rest of the bar to hear. It helps that they’ve all fallen silent. “Harvest Hollow Sheriff Falls for Doll Bandit.” Then I close the door in Mrs. Herring’s smiling face.
I draw Jolie against me again, and she rests her hands on my chest and smiles up at me. “You’re falling for me, Lucas?”
“Already fallen for you,” I correct her. “Which leads me to a question. Jolie McGraw, can I be your fall forward plan?”
She peers up at me through her dark lashes. “Why, Lucas Cole, I thought you’d never ask. If I say yes, can I have another seven minutes in heaven?”
“You can have as many as you want forever, Jo. All of mine are yours. But Brooklyn is still going to get it when I get home.”
And I steal her laugh with another kiss.
Epilogue
Jolie
One Year Later. . .
The fall garlands are all up on Maple again. Without question, this is my favorite time of year in Harvest Hollow. It’s dusk as I step out of the bookstore, the Hazy Codgers behind me, Henry nagging at me to get a move on so we don’t miss trivia night.
“Gal, step it up. The Lady Librarians are going to get the good table.”
“Settle down, Henry,” Hazel says, her voice full of patient amusement. “We’re still early.”
I slide the brand-new copy ofThe Lion of Lark-Hayes Manorinto my tote bag for Brooklyn. A middle grade fantasy about a sixth grader who loves fantasy books? Check. I need to make sure we’re set for our girl day on Saturday too. We’re getting blowouts and pedicures, and I only feel a little bit bad for Lucas for introducing Brooklyn to these expensive luxuries. He’ll do anything to spoil her, and I’m just helping him by giving him another way to do it.
I lead my quarreling band of trivia fiends to the Mockingbird and step into the warmth of the bar and the Billy Strings song playing over the PA. I stop inside the door, surprised by the crowd.
“Everything good?” I ask Mary Louise.
She nods. “Always is.”
This is true. We’ve got a rotating staff of twelve servers now to handle our very full lunch crowd—thanks to our delicious menu—and our evening patrons. And Bonnie is about to level up again by adding weekend brunch starting in October, and she’ll no doubt make the Blue Ridge Mountain Best List again. People can’t get enough of her food that manages to be local, simple, and still inventive. We have plenty of business and a happy wait staff.
The team tables are almost all full, all the regulars in their spots. The Lady Librarians and Hazy Codgers always battle over the same table, which is ridiculous, because no matter which group gets it, the other team ends up seated right next to them. The view is exactly the same. They just like arguing. The Lady Librarians get the table tonight, but they’ll all bicker again next week.
“Get outta here, boss,” Mary Louise says. “We’re set.”
I’m usually “home” by dinner these days, home being Lucas’s place so we can all eat together. Mr. John is a better cook than any of us, so I have no complaints. No, that’s an understatement: it’s become my favorite part of the day.
“All right, see you tomorrow.” I leave through the back exit, pleased with the warmth and chatter I’m leaving behind. I don’t know what I thought the Mockingbird would become when I decided to open it. It had been a whim born from anger.
I don’t think I realized how much of my life I’d spent being angry until it became safe to say how very, very mad I was.
It’s one of the things I’ve learned from Lucas over the last year. That I don’t have to be afraid of my feelings, good or bad. The bad ones can’t swallow me whole, and it’s fine to let the good ones consume me. There’s not a limit on how many times I can be happy.
In truth, contentment is my baseline now, and I never knew it wasn’t before. I’d confused security and stability for happiness, but they are very different things. Security is a place to start, but it’s not happiness itself, just the foundation to build on.
I climb into my truck and get on the road toward home. I need a quick shower before I go over to Lucas’s place.
That makes me happy. My impractical truck, my home with a linen closet full of fluffy towels, and dresser drawers full of the sweaters I just rotated in for the cooling weather.
It’s the simple things. It’s the best things.
As I drive down the stretch of road just past the four-way stop that Lucas pulled me over for missing last year, I see flashing lights in my rearview mirror and groan.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss a sign and that I wasn’t speeding, but if I was, there’s no way I’m using my “status” as the sheriff’s girlfriend to get out of a ticket. If it’s a patrol officer who recognizes me, it might happen anyway, but when I check my side mirror, I don’t know the deputy approaching.
