“But after being here with you, with Grace and Charlie, with your friends, I could finally pinpoint what that restless, itchy part inside me was, what has kept me from really touching any kind of real contentment or happiness.” He exhaled. “I missed having a home—this home. All this time, I thought I was chasing a dream, but I’ve only been running. Long Acre holds my most painful memories, but it also holds many of my happiest ones. I love this store. I want to spend time with Grace and Charlie. I want to have long-lasting friends. I want to build a life.”

She smiled through her tears. “Oh, cupcake.”

He swiped away her tears with his thumbs. “I want to build a life with you. Here.”

She stared at him in amazement. How had she ever looked at him and not seen what was in his heart? Not recognized what was buried deep in hers? Nothing had ever felt so right. Her whole life, her biggest joy had been her friends. Of course she was meant to fall in love with one.

This one.

The one who’d brought so much light into her life growing up. The one she’d always thought of first when she wanted to share something great or cry about something sad. The one who’d held her and promised her that she never had to be anyone but herself, that she was just right exactly as she was.

“You sure you’re not going to get tired of me?” She poked him in the shoulder. “I’ve heard I’m best in small doses.”

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You, my love, are best in really big, superintense, lifelong doses.”

The words rolled over her like a song, one that filled her up and turned into the sweetest melody she’d ever heard. That song had been playing between them for a long time. Finally, she could hear it. “Baby-fox coffee.”

“The best the world has to offer,” he said softly. “And she’s all mine.”

“Forever,” she said, any doubts she’d ever had about happy endings melting away.

Ash’s gaze went shiny in the twinkle lights. “I’m counting on it.”

Thirty

Ash kissed Kincaid, holding her against him and riding high on a feeling he didn’t know he was capable of—pure, unadulterated joy. The feeling was so strong, he feared he might crack open and all the energy would just spill out and blind them both with all its white light. He’d taken a risk, ignoring Kincaid’s texts and surprising her like this. Things could’ve gone so wrong. On the way back from Mexico, he’d imagined all the millions of ways it could go badly.

She didn’t owe him forgiveness. She didn’t owe him anything. But when he’d gotten that first text as he unpacked his bags in Mexico, he’d felt a surge of fight rise in him that had nearly knocked him off his feet. So many times over the years, he’d had similar urges to go after what he wanted and had talked himself down. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t be pathetic. Don’t make a scene. But in that moment in the hotel room, he’d realized that could’ve been a speech his father gave to him or his mother. Words that told Ash he wasn’t worthy or good enough. That he was a bother. That keeping the peace and saving face were worth more than feeling what he was feeling or fighting for what he wanted.