AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He presses a finger to my lips. And then he replaces that finger with his mouth. He kisses me softly. “I love you, Annie Archer. Always have, always will.”
I swallow, my breath caught in my throat.
Owen opens the back door of his Buick and pulls the pie from his backseat.
Then, he takes off up the walkway and knocks on the front door of the house.
A man opens up, no older than Owen. He smiles when he sees Owen—they must know each other.
Wait...Iknow that man. I haven’t seen him in six years, but I know that face.
Owen gestures out to me, and I offer a small, unsure wave toMaddox Powell, my college beau.
I hold my breath and listen, just barely hearing Owen above the breeze.
“I made you a pie once, Maddox. But I owed you another.”
Maddox smiles, and my heart literally stops. What. Is. Happening?
And then, the nicest man who ever lived opens up the white pastry box, pulls out Grammy’s chocolate pie, and smashes it in Maddox Powell’s face.
He leaves Maddox standing, stunned and covered in chocolate and whipped cream. I am speechless—and I’m ready to run. Am I the getaway car?
But Owen doesn’t rush. He pecks my lips once more, one hand in his pocket. He opens my door and waits for me to step inside. I see him salute Maddox before walking around and getting into the driver’s seat.
My mouth drops. “Owen! What was that?”
He leans over, pecking my waiting lips once more. “I just thought the most lovable human I know—that’s you, by the way—owed Maddox a pie. That’s all.”
Bonus Epilogue
Miles
“W
hat are you working on?” Mom stands in the doorway of my studio, a sweet grin on her face.
“Oh.” I blink away from her back to the watercolor in front of me. “Just something for Owen and Annie.” My siblings are all consumed with other things these days—Owen with Annie, Levi with Meredith and new adventures, Coco with her girls, and Cooper with school. Which means I have more time to work than I’d like some days.
“Can I see?” she asks, always conscious of my need for privacy.
There comes a time when I’m ready for someone to see my work—but the beginning stages are not it. Still, this is my mother, the kindest, gentlest woman I know.
I give her a small nod, and she walks over, standing beside me, looping her arm through mine. The sketch of roses and songbirds isn’t much yet, but my mother looks at it as if she’s staring at the next Mona Lisa.
“They still need you, you know?”
“Who?”
“Your siblings, of course. I know you like your quiet studio and your time, Miles. But I know you. Best of all, you love your family. You need to know that they still need you.”
I wrap one arm around her, tucking my tiny mother into the crook of my arm. “I know that,” I say, though she may have read my mind. She was always doing that growing up too.
“Don’t forget it. And don’t be afraid to go find someone for yourself, Miles.” She blinks up at me.
She means well—but I’m not looking. I love painting and teaching and my family. There is no room in my life for anything more.
Delaney
