“Look, I’m sorry you’re sad,” he said. “I’m sorry your mom died along with your boyfriend. I’m sorry you have to sell a place that you love. I can’t fix those things. Hell, I can’t fix anything but your old building.” He took hold of her hands. His were damp and chilled from the rain, rough and calloused from work. “What I can do is love you, Natalie Jean Harper. That’s what I can do. But only if you let me.”

She stared at him in amazement. She didn’t even know where to start. “How did you know my middle name?”

“I guessed. Was I right?”

“No.” She looked down at their joined hands, and then up at his face, and in that moment, she knew. Something was going to happen between them—something big. Bigger than her doubts and fears. Bigger than her bookstore woes. Bigger even than the road ahead for her and Grandy. It was going to be the biggest thing that had ever happened to her.

“You okay?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay. Just so we’re clear. You said you can love me.”

“Yeah. If you’ll let me.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“What’ll it be, Natalie? Will you?”

She started to speak, but there was a lump in her throat. She looked down at their hands again. Held on for dear life. Swallowed hard. She had almost missed this. Her instincts had been right all along, but she’d kept questioning them when she shouldn’t have. In a small part of her heart, she resented her mother, because Blythe had taught her that men couldn’t be trusted. This was different, she thought. I’m different.

She’d almost failed to let Peach in, and that would have been devastating. Somehow in all the turmoil since the plane crash, she had found something she hadn’t even known was missing. That it was happening at all was kind of a miracle. She wanted to remember every moment. But remembering was not enough. The first time she saw him, had she known? She wished she could have those moments back, make them better, brighter, shinier. More memorable.

Instead, it had been an inauspicious beginning. He’d come upon her miserable on the sidewalk, crying, confused. Maybe that was what she should have noticed, right off the bat. He’d seen her at her worst, and he’d taken it all in stride. No judgment, just acceptance.

“Would you like to spend the night?” she asked him.

It was their first time, and there were some first-timey things that were to be expected. Awkward moments. Waves of bashfulness. But most of all, what broke through all the newness was an undeniable sense of wonder. That she could feel this way about someone. That someone could feel this way about her.