Wildfire

I’ll wrap it up. It’s no secret that I love books. I love stories about people I don’t know, and places I haven’t been to. I’ve lived a thousand lives between a thousand pages, but no story, no life, no page has ever made me as happy as you do, Russ Callaghan.” Everyone awws, and I feel the tips of my ears turn pink. “Before I met you, I hadn’t considered what my happy ending might look like. I wasn’t sure I’d get one. You’re my
happy ending, Russ. I fell in love with you in Meadow Springs, and watching you help build our life here has made me fall in love with you a million more times. Thank you for giving me a life that feels too good to be true. Thank you for letting me bring home animals even when you say no. Thank you for letting me live my dreams every day.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” she grumbles, spinning to face me. She plants her hands on her hips and pouts. “You did this, Russ Callaghan. You told me I could run my own business. A bookstore, no less. Not even a bar or a strip club or something I might actually be good a—”

Whatever she was about to say dies when I close the space between
us, taking her face in my hands and pressing my mouth against hers. Her body melts into me, the tension dissipating with every passing second. Moving my hands to cup the nape of her neck, I rest my forehead against hers. “You are the most capable woman I have ever met in my life. There’s nothing you could suggest that I wouldn’t support. I will be there to hold your hand through all of it, Ror, but you don’t need me to. You’ve never needed me to be incredible. You. Just. Are. And I love you more than I can put into words.”

“I love you, too.” Her arms wrap around my neck, her big green eyes staring into mine. “This is our last chance alone all weekend. Tell me a secret, Callaghan.”

Secrets aren’t really a thing between us. I’ve spent so many years with Aurora that her ability to overshare has finally rubbed off a little. “I did eat your Cheetos last week. It wasn’t Neville. He looked at me with such judgment when I blamed him that I felt guilty for, like, three days.”

Those eyes I love so much roll extra-dramatically. “No shit. You had orange dust all over your face. Try again.”

It’s the try again that throws me. Like she’s waiting for me to admit something specific, something she already knows, which isn’t how this game works. Our friends and neighbors will be arriving soon for the opening, but she’s still staring up at me expectantly.

And that’s when I realize.

She knows.

“What if nobody wants to buy books from me because I’m not a family business?”

“We are a family business. I’ll write it on the window with a Sharpie if you want me to.”