Page 76 of A Cozy Holiday
We kiss. It’s desperate and tender and tastes like tears and promises. His hands curve into my hair, mine grip his shoulders, and for a moment, we’re just two people who found each other against all odds, choosing love even though it’s terrifying.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, both crying, both laughing, both utterly ready for whatever is next.
“The girls?” I ask, curled up in his hug. “Are the girls going to be mad?”
“No. They had PB&Js in bed yesterday and told me that they made up a chant to make you come back. That they knew you’d come back.”
“Yes.” The word comes out choked. “God, yes. I love them so much. Is that crazy? It’s only been a few weeks—”
“It’s not crazy.” He brushes hair from my face. “They love you too. They probably already have a welcome-back party planned.”
“Sounds like I can break out the glitter eyeliner.”
“Where are your bags? Let’s get you back to the cabin. We need to figure out when to tell the twins about us.”
“Actually.” I bite my lip. “I want to do this right. Winnie offered me her spare apartment above the café. That way, we can take our time. Date properly. Let the girls adjust. Build something that lasts because we’re choosing it every day, not just because it’s convenient.”
His eyebrows lift. “You talked to Winnie about this?”
“On the phone. She may have cried. And then threatened to murder me if I hurt you again.”
“That sounds like Winnie.”
“She also said you’ve been making angry sourdough.”
“In my defense, the woman I love ran away to New York.”
“The woman you love is standing right here.” I reach up to touch his face. “And she’s not going anywhere. Ever again.”
He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “I’m holding you to that.”
“Good.” I lean into him, breathing in balsam and espresso and home. I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for my whole life.
Not perfection. Not safety. Not some predetermined path I’m supposed to follow.
Just love. Messy, complicated, terrifying, beautiful love.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask into his jacket.
“Anything.”
“Can you cut my crust off the next time you make PB&J sandwiches?”
He laughs. “I’ll give you whatever I can, Joy Winters. Forever.”
He kisses me again, soft and sweet, and I taste the promise of every Christmas to come, every morning, every challenge, every ordinary, miraculous day we’ll build together.
“Forever,” I whisper back. “I’m finally home.”
Epilogue
Eleven Blissful Months Later
The Cranberry VetClinic hasn’t opened for the day yet.
Technically, my last day was two weeks ago—I had a baby shower and everything—but I’m having a hard time staying away even though I’m on maternity leave. Not because I need to work, but because I love my little clinic. It’s small, with only two exam rooms. The wood floors creak underfoot, and the wide windows along the front, fogged over with the warmth of the heater, let in the soft morning light.
It’s been nearly a year since my entire life changed, since I left New York and the Manhattan Vet Clinic and traded it all for Cranberry Hollow. My clientele is a fraction of what it was in the city, but that leaves me time for a life beyond appointments and charts.
