Beau leans the chairs against the wall and swoops in to kiss me too, his lips playful, quick, his hand brushing over the baby’s back as though he can’t help but touch both of us.
“Crowds are already gathering outside. Whole damn town wants cake this morning.”
Simon slides the bouquet onto the counter, then smooths a hand down my arm, his touch quieter but no less certain. “Anniversary flowers. One year deserves something special.”
I blink at the soft blush-pink roses, baby’s breath woven between them. “They’re perfect,” I whisper.
He adjusts his glasses, murmuring, “So are you.”
I laugh under my breath because even after a year, he can still make me blush like it’s the first time.
The baby shifts against me again, a little fussier this time. Levi’s hand moves to rub her tiny back, and she calms almost immediately. He has that effect on both of us.
“Let me take her,” he offers, already reaching.
I hesitate only a second before nodding. He slips her out of the sling with practiced hands, cradling her close against his chest. She sighs as though she knows exactly where she belongs.
My eyes sting. I blame the lingering hormones—though if I’m honest, I think I’ll always tear up watching them with her. Watching the way these men love me, love her, love us.
Beau catches my expression and presses his lips to my temple. “Don’t cry, baby. You’ll smudge your makeup.”
“Too late.” I laugh, swiping at my cheek.
Simon hands me a napkin anyway, ever prepared. “Here. And drink some water. You’ll need energy today.”
I roll my eyes but sip obediently from the glass he pours.
The café is almost ready, but there’s still last-minute chaos—balloons to tie, extra chairs to set out, pies to arrange.
Beau takes charge of stringing the lights along the window, whistling a tune that makes the baby kick her tiny feet. Simon checks the cash drawer, the order slips, and the coffee beans, meticulous as ever.
Levi stays close to me, juggling the baby in one arm while helping me frost the last of the muffins with his free hand.
By the time the clock strikes nine, the street outside is already full. People wave through the glass. I wave back, my chest tight with nerves.
“You’re shaking,” Beau murmurs, sliding an arm around my waist.
“I know,” I admit, exhaling hard.
“You’ll be fine,” Simon says from behind the counter, calm as a doctor in his element. “Everything is perfect.”
“Not everything,” Levi says quietly, kissing my temple again. “It’s missing your smile.”
I bite my lip, force myself to lift my chin, and smile.
The bell jingles again. This time, it’s my mother.
She’s radiant, her hair swept up, a soft scarf draped around her shoulders. She crosses the room in three strides and pulls me into a hug so tight I almost drop the napkin still clutched in my hand.
“Mom,” I whisper, my throat thick.
She smells like lilacs, like home. “I’m so proud of you, Wren,” she says, kissing my cheek. “This place… it’s everything you dreamed.”
Behind her, the rest of the town begins to pour in, chatter filling the space, the bell jingling nonstop. The café is alive, thriving, bursting with people. But for a moment, all I see is her.
My mother is finally home. Finally free.
Her divorce from my father is still messy, still dragging through the courts. But she’s here now, papers or no papers, standing in our café as though this was always where she belonged.
