The next morning, Mackenzie was woken by the sound of footsteps moving around the room, even though the light was still dim before sunrise. She squinted through the shadows and made out Jake’s figure, already dressed in workout gear, lacing up his sneakers.

“What time is it?” she murmured, yawning.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” Jake smoothed her hair from her forehead and leaned in for a kiss.

“You’re . . . exercising?” She took in his outfit. “But it’s dark out.”

“Just a little,” Jake replied, zipping up an all-weather vest. “But the roads are still good.”

“You’re crazy.” Mackenzie could barely move for tiredness. They’d barely slept all night. There were too many other things to do.

“Just getting back into the routine. Don’t move, I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Masochist.” Mackenzie sat up. “I guess I better get up too.”

Jake looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s fine. I promised my mom I’d go hang out today, and we have the toy drive this afternoon at the library.”

Jake blinked. “Since when?”

Mackenzie laughed. “Didn’t you sign up for the Starbright email alerts?”

“The what now?”

---

“Add it to your list,” she said, yawning again. “Once you’re done chiseling yourself into peak physical form.”

“Why stop there?” Jake teased. “I’m aiming for perfection.”

“Don’t expect to brainwash me with all these fitness shenanigans,” Mackenzie warned.

“I’d never dream of it.”

Jake headed downstairs, and Mackenzie lay there a moment longer, cocooned in the warmth of the covers and the flush that still lingered from his touch. She almost wished it was a blizzard outside, instead of the light dusting; then, perhaps, they could hole up here for days. But she had a busy schedule ahead—one that she couldn’t exactly deal with while wearing last night’s clothes.

Their lazy weekend would just have to wait.

---

After stopping back home to shower and change, Mackenzie made the drive down the Cape, across the bridge to the overgrown farm where her parents lived now—alongside twenty chickens, six goats, and a dozen alpacas. Thankfully, they’d waited until she left for art school before going full hippie and buying up their ramshackle plot. Her childhood had been zany enough without livestock wandering through the front room.

Now, she turned down the winding dirt road that led off the highway and bumped along towards the house. The snow was melting, and she could see her mom’s figure in the distance, wearing a bright red parka as she scattered feed for the livestock. Mackenzie rolled down the window and slowed as she approached.

“Hi, love,” her mom greeted her breathlessly. Linda’s gray hair was peeking out from under her no-doubt-hand-knitted cap, the same spiral curls that Mackenzie had inherited.

“Hi, Mom. Want a ride back to the house?”

“I’ve got the chickens still to feed. You go ahead and put the kettle on. And tell your father to stop fussing with that circuit board of his,” she added. “He’s been tinkering with the thing for days. I swear, he thinks he’s going to program the vacuum to take orders or something!”

“OK.” Mackenzie smiled. “See you there.”

She drove on another half mile and pulled in by the main farmhouse. Sure enough, she found her father inside, with the kitchen table covered in screws, wires, and tools.

“Hey, Dad.” She kissed the top of his head as she passed. “Mom says to put that stuff away.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” Phillip Lane looked up, every inch the mad professor in his cable-knit sweater and spectacles. He paused. “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Six months ago,” Mackenzie replied, filling the kettle at the sink. “You ask that every time I see you.”

“Oh. Well, it looks lovely.” He gave a sigh, then began to clear his things with obvious reluctance.

“How was the retreat?” she asked, remembering their Thanksgiving plans.

“You know.” Her dad gave Mackenzie a smile. “A little bit woo-woo for my liking, but your mother enjoyed herself. A nice group of people, too,” he added. “We had some nice conversations, and on the last night, there was a naked moon-dance ceremony—”

“I don’t need to know!” Mackenzie cut him off quickly. “In fact, take it as a rule that I don’t need to know anything involving you and Mom and the word ‘naked.’ ”

Her father chuckled. “I won’t tell you about the Eighties, then.”

“Please don’t.”

Mackenzie shook her head, smiling. They’d always been like this. Linda and Philip Lane marched to the beat of a different drummer—or, more often than not, a different drum circle. They’d met at a reiki retreat in the Catskills thirty years ago and bonded over transcendental meditation and their love of beat poetry before taking off in an RV together across the country for a few years. By the time Mackenzie was born, they’d settled down a little, at least—to a home on solid ground. But still, Mackenzie had to live with being uprooted and moved around every few years, starting over in another town with a new school before she’d ever gotten comfortable with the last. It was how she’d found herself the new girl in Sweetbriar at sixteen, the odd one out in a small class where everyone had known each other since birth. At least, until Jake had struck up conversation that day, and she didn’t feel so odd anymore.

Linda came in the back door, stamping her muddy boots on the matt. “We’re going to need more of that feed,” she said, her cheeks red from the cold. “Stevie’s looking pregnant again. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was eating for two.”

Stevie Nicks, one of the alpacas. Not to be confused with Joni Mitchell, the queen-bee goat, or Carly Simon, their grumpy tabby cat.

“Maybe give Julie a call at the vet’s office,” her dad suggested.

“Julie’s on sabbatical, remember?” Linda replied. “It’s that new kid they’ve got in to cover, he doesn’t know a llama from an emu.”

Mackenzie watched her mom strip off her coat and scarf and bustle around the kitchen—moving more of her father’s bits and bobs aside, keeping up a running monologue about the leaky roof on the henhouse and their plans for the wool yield that spring. Phillip got cups down and made the tea, the pair of them moving around each other in the cluttered space in a perfect, unconscious ballet.

Thirty years . . . Mackenzie knew it was a rarity, but it had never registered before just how special that kind of partnership was. She always took the fact of them for granted: partners in whatever harebrained new hobby they thought up next. But building a marriage that strong must have taken work: thousands of days that they chose to be together, facing the world as a team instead of alone, with kind words and support and a friendly smile at the end of the day.

She wanted a partner like that.

Mackenzie felt a wave of longing so swift and powerful it took her by surprise.

Where did that come from? She’d never been the one pining over love or relationships. Sure, her parade of bad dates over the years had been disheartening, but she hadn’t been searching for some vision of happily-ever-after, not when she had so much going on in her life right now.

But if this was that happy ending—two people in a drafty kitchen who knew each other by heart, a refrigerator door covered with snapshots of their life together, and his-and-hers mugs sitting on the countertop—then Mackenzie wanted it all.

And she wanted it with Jake.

“Mac, honey?”

Mackenzie snapped back. Her mom was holding up the tea box. “Assam or Oolong? Or you could try my new rose-hip blend,” she suggested eagerly. “I’ve added dandelion this time.”

Behind her, Phillip shook his head frantically.

“Oolong is fine, thanks, Mom.” Mackenzie smiled. Her mom was certain that her hand-blended herbal teas were the source of all her energy, but Mackenzie only knew them as a source of a bitter aftertaste. “Here, you sit down. I’ve got this.”

She took over tea duty, and soon her dad was heading out to the garage—“Just for a moment”—and Mackenzie and her mother were left alone.

“So were you planning on telling us about your new boyfriend, or was I just supposed to wait for the engagement?” her mom asked, only half-teasing.

Mackenzie should have guessed news would travel this far, this soon. The Sweetbriar gossip tree could rival any command center.

“I heard it from three different people this morning,” Linda added, looking put out. “You were the talk of the farmers’ market. ‘What’s the news?’ they all asked me, and I had to admit I didn’t know a thing. Your own mother.” She sniffed dramatically.

“Cut it out,” Mackenzie said lightly. “You don’t ask about my love life, remember? It’s called having healthy boundaries.”

“They said this one was serious.” Linda searched her face. “But I would have thought you’d be happier if it was.”

“It’s . . . complicated.” Mackenzie looked away. She took a sip of tea and promptly scalded her tongue. “It’s Jake Sullivan.”

“I heard that part,” her mom said brightly. “You guys used to be friends, didn’t you? I remember him clearing out the fridge every time he came around.”

Mackenzie nodded. “He’s back in town with an injury, but I don’t know for how long.”

“Oh.” Her mom nodded. “Long distance can be tough.”

“It’s not like that. We’re not even . . . We haven’t said . . .” Mackenzie paused. “I don’t know what we are. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“It isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Linda pointed out, getting up to rummage in a cabinet. “I refused to marry your father for years. I didn’t see why a piece of paper would change what we were to each other.”

“That’s different,” Mackenzie said. “You always told me you both said the first night you met that you were going to be together forever.”

“Because we were eighteen and high as a kite on mushroom tea!” her mother laughed. “We still had plenty to work out. Like your father’s girlfriend, for one.”

“Mom!”

Linda smiled. “Oh, hush, honey. There’s never a straight line through these things, and don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise. The only thing you need to ask yourself is, are you willing to make that journey?”

Mackenzie paused. Sure, it was dressed up in her mother’s usual hippie language, but she had a point. Despite the history echoing in Mackenzie’s chest when they were together, she and Jake had barely begun.

“Thanks,” she said, “I think you’re right.”

Her mother looked startled. “Really? Phillip, get in here!” she called. “Mac just said I was right about something. I need witnesses!”

Mackenzie laughed. “Stop it!”

Her father appeared in the doorway, brandishing an old-fashioned tape recorder. “Say it again, sweetheart,” he urged. “We should capture this one for the records.”

“Both of you are ridiculous,” Mackenzie informed them, still giggling.

“Unlucky for you, it’s in your genes!”

---

Mackenzie drove back to Sweetbriar and arrived at the library to find Eliza waiting on the steps, bundled up in a big parka jacket and scarf.

“The interview!” Mackenzie exclaimed, leaping out of the car. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind!”

“That’s OK.” Eliza greeted her with a hug. “I know you have other things on your plate.” Her eyebrows waggled suggestively. “So, what’s the latest with Jake?”

Mackenzie laughed. “I saw you yesterday!”

“A lot can happen!” Eliza protested. “Whole lives can change in an instant. Twenty-four hours is tons of time.”

Mackenzie smiled, leading her inside. Eliza was right. Her life had spun on a dime with just one kiss—that Halloween night in the gazebo upending Mackenzie’s dangerously content world. “Well, there’s nothing to report,” she said lightly, glossing over that whole “artistic meltdown” part of the proceedings. “We hung out last night, that’s all.”

“I highly doubt that’s all,” Eliza teased, “but my editor says I need to work on not badgering people to death, so I’m going to let that one slide. For now, at least, until Jake gets back.”

“He was here?” Mackenzie asked, surprised.

“Sure. He was hauling boxes all morning. I think he left to go get lunch,” Eliza added. “He said something about finding a salad, but I figured he was just dizzy with dehydration.”

Mackenzie was touched. “I didn’t even ask him to help.”

She pushed open the door and found the rec room was already stacked with boxes and trestle tables, set up into wrapping stations and gift selections, too.

“Wow,” Eliza looked around at the stacks of toys. “Did you empty Santa’s grotto or something? I thought the point of a toy drive was to get people to come donate.”

“Jake and I went a little crazy buying up supplies,” Mackenzie admitted with a smile. “Well, Jake did the buying—not that he’ll take the credit.”

“It’s not his thing,” Eliza agreed. “It’s like all his charity work in Miami.”

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the Big Brother program, the team summer camps,” Eliza explained. She must have seen Mackenzie’s surprise because she laughed. “Try googling sometime. In fact, how are you not looking up your dates? It’s literally the first thing I do. To check they don’t have a criminal record, or post on Nickelback fan sites,” she added. “You know, due dating diligence.”

“OK, that we’re definitely talking about later,” Mackenzie warned her. “And no, I didn’t know about his charity. He doesn’t really talk much about the team, or anything from back in Miami.” She paused. “I know the injury is tough on him,” she said quietly. “So I’m trying not to push. I don’t want to be the buzzkill always asking how he’s doing.”

Eliza gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure he’ll talk when he’s ready. Or even if he has anything to say about it. From what I was reading, recovering from those kinds of injuries is pretty boring: just a long slog of training and rehab.”

Mackenzie made a mental note to do her own research. Just because Jake wasn’t opening up about it, it didn’t mean she couldn’t find out what he was dealing with and be supportive in whatever ways she could.

Eliza got out her cellphone and tapped a few buttons. “So, come on, O great organizer of all things Starbright, tell this intrepid reporter what you’re doing here today.”

Mackenzie began explaining about the toys they collected every year to donate to shelters and churches on the Cape. “Of course, everything in Sweetbriar has to be a party,” she said, “so one year, I guess Debra decided to make the toy drive a big group effort. Now everyone comes to wrap gifts and write cards—and gossip, of course.”

“Naturally.” Eliza grinned.

The doors swung open and Jake came in, almost hidden behind a stack of pizza boxes.

“So much for the salad,” Eliza joked as he deposited them on the snack table and unloaded a grocery bag of chips, too.

“This isn’t for me. And hey, you.” Jake turned to Mackenzie and kissed her lightly on the lips. “How are your parents?”

“A trip, as ever. They say hi,” she added. They also said to invite Jake out to the farm for dinner soon, but since that would involve her mother’s nut loaf casserole and the Spanish Inquisition, she was keeping that part to herself. “I can’t believe you set up everything already. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem. According to my email account, it’s the least I can do.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Mackenzie winced. “The town appreciation committee likes their news bulletins.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jake asked, a teasing smile on his face. “Who wouldn’t want to know the sleigh-ride schedule—and the amended schedule, and the debate over whether the amended schedule clashes with the town history tour? You should sign up,” he said to Eliza. “You’ll never have a quiet inbox again.”

Eliza laughed. “Actually, that’s tempting. My email is nothing but weight loss spam and takeout coupons right now. Because I’m such a loyal customer. I’ve started inventing company when the delivery guys arrive. You know, yelling ‘food’s here’ into my empty apartment so they don’t think all three boxes of pad thai are mine.”

“Hey, if you ever need help getting through those orders, this is your girl.” Jake pointed at Mackenzie.

“You can talk!” she protested. “Or are those double pepperonis going to eat themselves?”

“Those are for the party.” Jake gave her a virtuous look. “I’m back on my training diet again. Power smoothies and lean protein, baby. All the way.”

“Great.” She made a show of sighing. “I guess I’ll be the one eating ice cream at midnight alone.”

“I guess I could make a few exceptions,” Jake said, drawing her closer. He kissed her again, and Mackenzie let herself fall into the simple pleasure of it, until the sound of Eliza clearing her throat made her turn.

“Don’t mind me.”

“Whoops. Sorry.” Mackenzie winced. Eliza waved it away.

“Please. If I had one of those, I’d never come up for air. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jake said cheerily. The doors swung open again, and people started arriving, toting bags full of toys and books, and reams of wrapping paper. “I guess the show’s starting. Where do you want me?” he asked Mackenzie.

“Right here is fine.”

Just a heartbeat away.