We stepped out together, hands linked, and walked toward the door like we’d been doing it forever. The morning air was crisp, carrying that sharp pine-and-river smell that always meant home. Becca’s fingers stayed laced with mine, warm and steady, and every few steps she gave my hand a small squeeze—like she was reminding herself this was real. I squeezed back.
At Violet’s, the bell jingled as we stepped inside. Violet looked up from behind the counter. Her face went through the full cycle in about three seconds—surprise, delight, smug satisfaction, and then pure, unrestrained joy. My big sister had always worn her heart on her sleeve, and right now it was screaming.
“Oh my God,” she said, loud enough that the nosy half of her customers turned to look.
“Morning, Vi,” I replied, keeping my voice calm even though my pulse was hammering.
“Oh my God,” she repeated, hands flat on the counter, grinning so wide I thought her face might split. She looked at Becca like she’d just won the lottery. “The usual? Or are we celebrating with extra whipped cream today?”
Becca’s cheeks went pink, but she laughed. “Just coffee for now. And maybe a cinnamon roll. Or two.”
Violet waggled her eyebrows. “Noted. One order of ‘finally’ with a side of sugar rush.”
We turned toward our corner table—the one half-hidden by the coat rack. Harper was already there, mug in both hands, watching us with the expression of someone who’d placed a very long-term bet and just collected the payout. She didn’t say a word at first, just raised one perfectly arched brow and sipped her coffee like she was waiting for us to confess.
Becca slid in across from her best friend. “Don’t even start.”
Harper set her mug down with exaggerated innocence. “I haven’t said a single word.”
“You’re practically vibrating.”
“I’m simply radiating joy. It’s a medical condition. I heard the podcast, and I love this. Everything. Love. It. Happy for you.”
I sat down beside Becca, our thighs pressing together under the table the second I settled. Harper’s eyes sparkled as if she’d just been handed the keys to the kingdom.
Jude arrived moments later, jacket half-unzipped, hair still damp from a shower. He spotted us, froze mid-step, and looked from me to Becca to me again.
“Finally,” he said to the ceiling, throwing his hands up like he was praising the heavens. Then he dropped into the chair next to Harper with a relieved exhale. “I have money on this, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on my love life now?”
“Been betting on it for years,” he said without missing a beat, grin wide and unapologetic. He looked at Becca, warm and relieved in that brother way he’d always had with her. “Hi, Becca. You look happy. It’s about damn time.”
“Hi, Jude.” Becca grinned. “You look like you need more coffee. Or a nap.”
“Both,” he said cheerfully. “Mostly because my brother finally figured out what the rest of us have known forever.”
Violet returned with our coffees—black for both of us—and set them down with a wink. “Here you go, lovebirds. Don’t make out at my table. Health code.”
Becca snorted into her mug. “No promises.”
Violet squeezed Becca’s shoulder without a word, but saying a thousand things in silence, then disappeared again, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
We sat talking, laughing, the four of us falling back into rhythm like no time had passed at all. Harper caught Becca up on three separate pieces of town gossip she’d missed, including something about the mayor and a zoning variance that made Matt’s upcoming news feel suddenly more dire.
“So the mayor’s trying to rezone the old mill property,” Harper said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I heard this from the secret office manager gossip phone tree that doesn’t officially exist, soshh. But word is he’s doing it for his cousin’s ‘eco-resort’ idea. Which is code for ‘glamping for rich people from Portland.’”
Jude snorted. “Of course he is. The man has the ethics of a parking meter.”
Becca leaned into my side, voice low enough for just me. “See? This is why I love this town. Everyone knows everything, and only half of it’s probably true.”
Under the table, my hand stayed on her knee, thumb stroking slow circles; every once in a while, she’d cover my hand with hers and squeeze, like she was anchoring herself to me in the middle of the noise.
Jude leaned back, arms crossed, smirking at me. “So. When do I get to be the best man? I’ve been practicing my speech since Dipshit Travis was out of the picture for good.”
I rolled my eyes. “Slow down, man. We’re not there yet.”
“Yet,” he repeated, grinning. “I like that word.”
