Page 116 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“Reese—” Grace kissed him, fierce and desperate and tasting like salt from her tears and something sweet underneath that Reese wanted to chase forever. Her hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her right off her feet because he could, because she was here, because she was his.

Somewhere in the background, Caleb was whooping. Zach was definitely still filming while probably dying of embarrassment. The security guards were trying not to smile. The whole damn terminal was watching them make out like teenagers.

Reese didn’t care about any of it.

“I love you too,” Grace whispered against his mouth. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, you ridiculous Canadian hoser.”

“There it is.” He set her down but didn’t let go, keeping her close enough that they were sharing air. “So we’re doing this? You and me?”

“We’re doing this.” She grinned up at him, that sass he loved shining through the tears. “Now let’s get out of here before my mom’s Subaru gets towed. Fair warning, it smells like old coffee and poor life choices.”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it was. All of it. The chaos, the audience, the ridiculous car waiting outside. Grace’s hand in his. The future stretching out ahead of them, messy and uncertain and absolutely worth fighting for.

He’d come to Solace Springs looking for answers about his past.

Turned out, he’d found his future instead.

Not bad for a hoser from Thunder Bay.

Epilogue

Grace

If someone had told Grace two months ago she’d be spending Christmas Day surrounded by half of Solace Springs, standing in the courtyard of an inn she owned, waiting for a billionaire to unearth his family’s long-lost treasure, she’d have suggested they lay off the mulled wine.

And yet, there she was.

Snow drifted across the island like icing sugar over cake. The inn—their inn—glowed with fairy lights strung along the eaves, wreaths on the doors, candles flickering in every window. The whole place smelled like pine needles and gingerbread and home.

Zach stood beside her, bundled in a ridiculous Christmas sweater covered in lights that Mabel had gifted him. He pretended to hate it, but Grace had caught him switching it on the second Reese looked away.

Reese.

He was at the center of the crowd, crouched by the area that had been dug up outside the tower. Turned out he’d been right when he’d found that hatch in the tower the day they were trapped in there. That was the way in. Except the hatch was sealed shut so they’d had to find a way to excavate outside it. Reese was wearing a head flashlight and that familiar, maddening focus that made everyone else fade into the background. His dirty-blond hair curled at the ends now, a little longer than usual. He said it was because “island life” suited him.

He’d been splitting his time between the inn and the rest of the world. A few days away each month, meetings and deals and whatever mysterious things billionaires did when they weren’t rescuing eagles or starting community Christmas fairs. But he always came back. Always.

And that was enough.

The tower was their home now, private from the rest of the inn. Zach had the annex to himself or “a totally separate residence” as Grace had overheard him describing it to his friends, even though it was now joined by a shared kitchen and living room. Reese and Grace had the top floor of the tower, where the bedroom windows looked straight out across the lake. At night the moon turned the water silver and every time she saw it she thought: We made it.

Luke elbowed Grace gently, breaking her reverie. “You ready for this, innkeeper?”

“Not remotely,” she said, laughing.

Margaret had insisted the whole town come out for the grand opening of the old cellar. Abe had muttered something about liability forms, but he was grinning the entire time. Sophie had brought a thermos of spiced hot chocolate. Mabel had even made mince pies. Even Tressa had promised to sing once the “treasure” was found, assuming it wasn’t, as Abe suspected, just more broken bottles and spiders.

Reese straightened, brushing dust off his gloves. “All right,” he called out, voice carrying easily over the gathered crowd. “Moment of truth.”

He swung the flashlight beam down into the darkness. The faint glint of something metallic caught the light. A collective gasp rippled through the group.

He looked back at Grace, that crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “Want to do the honors?”