The bell above the door to the shop jingles, pulling me from my musings, and I walk through from the kitchen to the front of the store, still smiling at the thought of my latest masterpiece.

“Welcome to Piece O’ Cake,” I sing in a cheerful customer service voice. “How can I help yo—” Stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes go wide as I gawp at the unexpected figure standing in the middle of the shop. He’s shadowed by the afternoon sun shining in through the windows, backlighting him to nothing more than a darkened silhouette, and I blink hard, unsure whether or not I’m imagining things. But then he speaks. And I would know that voice anywhere. This is definitely not my imagination playing tricks on me.

“Hey, Murph.” The shadow takes a step forward, coming in to the glow of the overhead lights, and I’m immediately enamored by that all-too-familiar grin.

“N-Nash?” I gasp.

His smile is bright and those eyes. I’d remember those eyes anywhere after spending such a big part of my life dreaming about them.

“Oh my God!” I scream, covering my mouth with trembling hands until I finally come to, ripping off my apron before practically throwing myself over the counter. Jumping up, I wrap my arms around his neck, and emotion gets the better of me as I stand there in the familiarity of his warm embrace with tears of happiness streaming down my cheeks.

He’s here.

The love of my life.

He’s home.

***

The May sun simmers gently upon my shoulders. Birds chirp in sync, their chorus singing through the air. Butterflies flutter aimlessly, whisked away by the gentle breeze. And, in the distance, a child is giggling full of an infectious happiness that I can feel through to my soul. I can’t possibly wipe the smile from my face. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Nash Harris is actually here, by my side, as we walk beneath the canopy of the lush magnolia trees. The moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

“What are you doing here?” I ask incredulously, my cheeks stinging from smiling so hard.

“I wanted to see you.” Nash stops, turning to me and pulling my hands into his. “Actually, Murph, I needed to see you.”

I look up at him, our eyes meeting as his thumbs gently stroke the backs of my fingers. But when I catch sight of something unfamiliar in his gaze, something unsettling, my heart sinks a little in my chest. I know Nash. Something is wrong. He continues smiling that same beautiful smile, but I can see it in his eyes.

“Nash, what’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly worried. Is he in trouble? Oh, God. Is he sick? I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to him. Not to my Nash.

“I’m fine, Murph.” He shakes his head once with a light chuckle, dismissing my concerns, and then, letting go of one of my hands, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, causing my eyes to widen of their own accord. For a moment my mind begins to get carried away with itself. Between the chirping birds and the fluttering butterflies, the beautiful warm sun, and the backdrop of the inky river reflecting the fluffy white clouds in the sky, it’s all too perfect. And, as he reaches into his pocket, I begin to wonder if Nash Harris is about to drop to one knee and make all my dreams come true.