It’s easier than I would have imagined. Everything is so clear—the sunny room I wake up in, the smell of coffee in the kitchen, the warm feel of someone wrapping me in a hug from behind before I turn to smile. I open my eyes and find him watching me. “That was incredible.”

“Did it help?”

I nod. “I’d already decided, but yeah. The visualization helped nail it down. Thank you.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “Where were you?”

“In Jackson Harbor, and I have a family.” I study him and wonder if I’m a fool for having the same dreams for my future now that I had when I was a twenty-year-old college student studying in Paris. The idea of moving to L.A. doesn’t thrill me, but the idea of staying home, of letting my choices be guided by my family? Does it really matter if that makes me a small-town girl? Or old-fashioned? Maybe those things aren’t bad. Maybe they’re just me.

“That sounds like a good start,” Easton says.

“I think for me it is. There are people who thrive by revolving their life around their career, but there’s no career I want enough for that.”

“What about writing?”

I smile. Leave it to Easton to refuse to forget my whispered dreams. “I’m not sure even a career as a novelist would be enough to substitute for living near the people I love the most. But that’s moot, isn’t it? I can do that anywhere . . . if I’m ever lucky enough to do it at all. And until then, I just need a job that pays the bills and allows me to live my life. There are so many opportunities with my family’s business that I’d enjoy. A job that gives me a sense of satisfaction and lets me spend my free time with my favorite people in the world.” I shrug. “For better or worse, that’s enough for me.”

He takes my hand and strokes his thumb across my knuckles. He’s quiet for a long time, and when he does talk, he draws in a deep breath first. “Take a walk with me?”

“I’d like that. Do you need to tell Abi?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I told Carter I was coming in here to ask you on a walk, so he’s going to keep an eye on her.”

I’m wearing flats with my dress, so I trade them for a pair of canvas tennis shoes on the way out the door. The fresh air feels good, the sun amazing after the long winter, and I find myself smiling as we stroll the property. There’s so much left to do and decide, but I already feel better having made my decision. I’ll have to call Emmitson University next week and cancel my interview. I don’t need to waste their time or mine.