Her. The bakery. The square. The town that somehow felt more like home than London ever had. My heart thundered in my chest as I pulled away.
Three days. This trip was meant to last three days. Instead, Pine Hollow had given me nearly three weeks. Three weeks that had undone me. Three weeks that had shown me a woman I wanted more than my old life. Three weeks that had shown me what I’d been missing.
And as Brianna disappeared in the rear-view mirror, I knew one thing with absolute certainty. I was coming back. No matter what it took.
Chapter Thirty-One
Christmas came and went in a blur of carols, twinkling lights, and the soft ache of something missing. Someone is missing. Oliver called a few times. Short conversations squeezed between meetings or travel. A couple of late-night texts. One photo of London blanketed in frost with a caption:Not as beautiful as Pine Hollow.
I saved that one.
But as New Year’s Eve approached, the messages thinned. Not abruptly, just slowly, like watching the tide pull back inch by inch.
He’s busy,I told myself.He’s fixing things. He promised.
Still… When the town gathered in the square on the 31st, cheering under fireworks that sparkled above the rooftops, my eyes kept drifting to the edge of the crowd. Silly, really. As if he’d appear out of nowhere, snow-damp hair and crooked smile, ready to pull me into the new year by the hand. But he didn’t.
January arrived with heavier snow and quieter streets. Winter is always a little lonelier, but this year it felt sharper, like every cold wind reminded me of the morning he’d left. By mid-January, I’d almost convinced myself that the space between us was normal. Expected. Necessary.
Until the envelope came.
Thick. Cream-coloured. Addressed in elegant handwriting:
To Miss Brianna Hart, The Honeycomb Hearth Bakery
Pine Hollow
My stomach flipped. I waited until Ivy finished restocking the display case before slipping into the back room, tearing the seal open with trembling fingers. A stack of documents slid into my hands.
I skimmed the top page. Then I froze.
Property Deed Transfer: The Honeycomb Hearth Bakery
New Owner: Brianna Hart
My heart stopped.
No. No, this couldn’t be, I read it again, breath catching painfully in my throat. He’d done it. He actually did it. He kept his promise. The bakery was mine. Not rented. Not threatened. Not one bad decision away from vanishing.
Mine.It was mine.
My fingers pressed to my lips as tears blurred the words on the page. Every emotion hit at once. Relief, shock, disbelief, something warm and blooming that made my knees weak. He’d said he had a plan. He’d said to trust him. I sank onto the small wooden stool, clutching the papers like they might disappear if I blinked too long.
Then, the bell above the shop door chimed. Once. Twice.
Laughter from customers drifted in. Ivy greeting someone. Boots tapping across the floor. I breathed in deeply, wiping my eyes, steadying myself before stepping back into the front and the world tilted.
Oliver stood just inside the doorway.
Snow dusted his hair and coat. A large suitcase rested at his side; his cheeks were flushed from the cold. And his eyes, those warm, earnest blue eyes, were fixed on me like he had crossed an entire country just to find this exact moment. He dropped the suitcase with a soft thud.
“I told you I’d be back,” he said gently.
Everything in me broke open. Before I realised, I’d moved, I was crossing the bakery floor at a run, weaving between chairs, past stunned customers, past Ivy’s slack-jawed stare. And then I was in his arms.
He caught me instantly, lifting me off my feet as I threw my arms around his neck. I didn’t care that half the town was watching. I didn’t care that my apron was dusted in flour or that my eyes were already filling again.
I kissed him.
