We took three more, one smiling, one laughing because he made a ridiculous face at the last second, and one where I wasn’t prepared at all, and my eyes were half-closed from laughing, but Oliver looked at me like he was memorising the shape of my joy. I saved all of them.
“I’ll print them,” I said softly. “Put them on my wall.”
He swallowed, eyes lingering on mine. “I’d like that.”
We stood there a moment longer, the snow falling gently around us, the carousel lights flickering behind us like a halo. For a moment, it felt like the whole world paused. Just longenough to let me hope. Just long enough to make the thought of him leaving feel unbearably close. But not yet. Not tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was my last day in Pine Hollow, and I woke to the muted glow of winter light pressing softly against the curtains and the steady warmth of Brianna curled against my side.
For the briefest moment, I lay completely still, letting the scene anchor itself in my mind. The faint rise and fall of her breath, the scent of vanilla lingering in her hair, the softness of the covers tucked up around us. A cold morning in the Scottish Highlands, snow-dusted windowpanes, quiet settling over the village like a blanket.
And this woman beside me. I’d never woken like this before. Not with someone who made the world feel slower, gentler, more mine.
Her fingers were curled lightly against my chest, and one of her legs brushed mine beneath the blankets. It felt intimate in a way last night hadn’t even touched, this quiet, simple closeness neither of us had planned for.
Her lashes fluttered. She blinked awake, eyes warm with sleep.
“Morning,” she whispered.
God help me, I could have lived in the sound of that.
“Morning,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over the back of her hand.
Outside, Pine Hollow was waking. Not abruptly, the way London woke, with buses screeching past and phones ringing and people spilling into the streets before dawn. No, Pine Hollow woke with patience. Life here moved slower, more deliberately. It made my own pulse slow to match it.
Brianna shifted closer, resting her cheek against my shoulder. “I don’t want to open the bakery today.” The confession was small and quiet, but it struck something deep in me. “I want to spend your last day with you,” she added, voice trembling just enough that I felt it under my ribs.
Oh. The ache that rippled through my chest was immediate and sharp. Her. This town. This warmth. Leaving felt suddenly, impossibly wrong.
I reached up, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Brianna… you love that bakery. You’ve poured your whole heart into it.”
“I know.” Her voice cracked. “But today… today I want–” Her breath caught. A small, devastating sound. “…I just want more time.”
The words lodged somewhere in my throat. She didn’t realise how much I wanted that too. Wanted to stay in her kitchen drinking hot chocolate, wanted to watch her laugh with Ivy, wanted to study the wall of photographs she kept and imagine where new ones might fit. But I couldn’t tell her the full truth yet, not until the plan was airtight.
“I want today too,” I said, letting my hand trail down her arm. “More than you know.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, searching for something, maybe reassurance, certainty, maybe even hope?
“But you’re not skipping the bakery because of me.”
She frowned, sinking a little against me. “But–”
“No.” I softened my tone and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Pine Hollow needs you this morning. And I’ll come by later. Once I finish a few things.”
She shifted, raising her head. “Those… things.” There it was the worry she tried so hard to hide. “What are they?”
A dozen answers rushed to my tongue, answers I couldn’t give yet, not until I knew without a doubt that none of this would collapse around her.
“You’ll see,” I said quietly.
Her stare lingered, heavy with questions, but Brianna was many things. Strong, stubborn, brave and one of those things was someone who respected when not to push. She let it go. For now. I brushed my hand across her hairline, letting my fingers slide gently through her auburn waves. Outside, more snow had begun to fall, flurries catching in the cold light like drifting shards of crystal. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful in that moment, barefaced, sleep-softened, wrapped in sheets and morning light.
“Promise you’ll come back?” she whispered.
I caught her hand, pressing my lips softly to her knuckles. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere today.”
