Epilogue

 

Joey

“Are you sure about this place?” Grace asks, eyeing the ceiling like it’s about to come down on us.

Kennedy kicks a loose brick on the floor, and a giant spider skitters after it, making Vi and her both jump and squeal.

“Those need to all be gone before we open,” Violet says, clutching her chest.

Kennedy is careful to watch where she steps as she makes her way to my side, taking my hand in both of hers. “What do you think?”

I release a shallow breath and move my gaze from her bright-green eyes to the mostly empty propoerty. “I think you should have let us do the remodel.”

She pulls her chin back, telling me my idea is ludicrous. Kennedy’s eyes scan over my ironed blues. “Sheriff DeLuca, between planning to build a house and your job, you don’t have time to remodel our bakery.”

I press my lips into a thin line. She’s probably right, and I hate that. I want to build this place with my own two hands with Coen at my side so we can ensure it’s as safe and perfect as his house is turning out to be and I’m planning for mine to be.

Coen steps over a mess of papers on the floor, heading toward the back of the store. Tom follows him with a flashlight already on. I asked my brother to come along and check the fuse boxes and electrical panel to see if he could predict any issues.

“I think this place will be perfect,” Mrs. Wallace says. “You’ll have lots of natural light. You’ll only be a couple of blocks from the hardware store and just across the street from the sheriff’s station. I think you guys made the right decision with this place. Some of the others might have been easier, but this one just has a good feeling about it.”

Violet grins, stopping beside Kennedy and me. “It does have a good feeling, doesn’t it?”

Mrs. Wallace nods, continuing her way farther inside, surveying the brick walls.

“Have you guys picked out a name yet?” Ella asks. “I think we can wait on your website since the local sheriff’s department doesn’t even have a computer system yet.” She eyes me with pity. “But we’ll definitely need to create flyers to pass around. We can leave stacks of them at the hardware store, the sheriff’s station, the fire department, all over.”

“Ella, our deal was made over sangria. I’m not holding you to it.” Kennedy shakes her head.

“I want to!” Ella says. “You’ll be my very first clients under my own company.”

“But we can’t afford to pay you.” Kennedy pushes her glasses up.

“You get the friends-and-family discount of free . . . and will owe me the occasional free cupcake.”

“Sold!” Violet cries.

Kennedy shakes her head, and I know there will be more discussion on the topic. But I opt to change the subject because the last thing I want tonight is an argument about details that may or may not transpire months from now.

Coen wipes his hands on his jeans as he and Tom return. “It looks good,” he says. “I mean, it obviously is going to need work, but it has good bones.”

He looks to Tom for confirmation, but he’s distracted. Shaking his head, he blinks and looks to me and then Coen. “What?”

“What do you think of the place, Dad? Think we can turn it into a bakery?” Kennedy asks.

I squeeze her hand tighter.

“I’m pretty sure you can do anything you put your mind to, kid,” Tom says. “I also think it’s Joey’s birthday, and we should probably get back to the house so we can celebrate.” He looks at me again, swallowing hard. He’s nervous, and I can see the emotions he’s battling are making it hard for him to say much.

I can relate.

“I need to stop by the hardware store,” Mrs. Wallace says. “I think I forgot to close the back door.”

“I have to call this contractor really quick,” Violet tags on. “He speaks like a caveman and only leaves two-word messages. It drives me insane.”

“I’ve got to stop at the station, too,” Coen says. “We’ll be by in, like, twenty. One of them paged me.”

Panic bubbles in my chest, and Tom’s eyes go wide with a matching concern.

“You guys are like herding a bunch of cats,” Tom says.

I laugh nervously, my hand falling in my pocket. I expel a deep breath and survey the room. This isn’t how I’d expected this moment to happen. Never did I imagine this occurring in front of an audience and certainly not in a building that looks dilapidated, but like with all things, Kennedy is my exception.

I take another deep breath. “Hang on for one second.”

Kennedy eyes me with confusion but doesn’t object when I drop her hand and run out to my truck, withdrawing a short tube.

When I return, they barely notice. They’re joking about names for the bakery and envisioning where the counters will be and if they should have tables or not. Tom’s right, they’re like herding cats.

“What’s that?” Grace asks.

Kennedy turns toward me, her eyes rounding. “You got the blueprints! Is it what you were hoping for?”

I pop off the lid and slide the papers out, placing them on one of the old metal desks that were left behind.

They converge without being prompted.

“That deck will be amazing,” Mrs. Wallace says.

“Forget the deck. Look at the size of that master bathroom!” Violet says. “And that closet! That’s bigger than my bedroom was in Boston!”

“Mine too.” Kennedy giggles.

“What are you going to do with a kitchen that big?” Coen asks. “You think Ma’s going to come cook for you?” He elbows me, smiling.

“Are these the final plans?” Kennedy looks over her shoulder at me.

“It depends.”

“On what?” Her gaze drifts to the blueprints again.

I dig into my pocket and withdraw the small box that’s felt like a live ember all day against my leg. Slowly, I drop to one knee.

Violet screeches. The sound echoes through the space, and everyone turns to her with surprise. Her hands cover her mouth and tears form in her eyes as she points them to me.

Mrs. Wallace gasps, and Grace grins. Coen chuckles.

Kennedy stares at me, her eyes round and her lips parted with surprise.

“Those are the final plans if you love it. If that’s how you want our house to look. Grace and your parents have been helping me design it with you in mind, thinking of all the things we know you love.”

Tears swim in her bright eyes as she stares at me.

“You’ve been asking me a lot about what I want for my birthday.” I swallow. “And there’s just one thing I want.” I open the lid, and Kennedy’s gaze shifts to the ring and then back to me. “I want you to be my wife. I want to build a house with you. I want to make you happy.” I raise the small box higher. “Kennedy Wallace, will you be my wife?”

She nods, and before I can withdraw the ring, she’s kissing me.

 

The End