MAGGIE

“I’m done!” Mila leaps up from her chair and glances around the table, begging the adults with silent eyes. “Anyone else done? Jess?”

Jess looks to her grandparents, who give her the nod. With a grin, she jumps to her feet and follows Mila into the lounge area where we’ll spend the next few hours decorating the Christmas tree, munching on leftovers and piping Christmas tunes through the speakers.

The adults remain at the table. Most of us have some version of dessert on our plates, whether it’s the homemade pumpkin pie with ice cream, some sort of cake in the shape of a cornucopia, or sugar cookies Mila helped Jax decorate for fall, it’s all wonderful.

“I’ll get the fire started,” Jax says, pushing back his chair. “Did everyone get enough to eat?”

I laugh. “If anyone walked away hungry, it’s their own damn fault.”

A chorus of compliments to the chef breaks free as the adults separate into smaller groups, Emily and Luca and Lelia delving into a side story about Lelia’s weekend plans, while a few guests of the inn lean their heads together and marvel over the food.

Julia converses with a few other part-time staff at the inn, and I take the moment to sink back in the chair, listening to Mila’s shrieks of delight as she uncovers one ornament at a time, and then her murmured explanations to Jess about the story behind each one.

My thoughts of Tyler have been pushed back some, thanks to the warmth I have built in here. Our home. There’s a lump in my throat as I look over to my co-workers, knowing my family might not be blood related, and also knowing that doesn’t matter.

Tyler’s parents are among the inn’s guests marveling over the food.

“I think we might head home,” Tyler’s mother says, standing first. “I’ll get Jess—”

“She can stay,” I say quickly. “Mila would love the company. I can bring her back tonight, or tomorrow morning if you’d like.”

“Oh, we don’t want to impose.”

I wave a hand and wink. “What’s one more guest at the inn? Really, though, we’d love to have her. I’ve heard Mila’s Christmas ornament stories a million times—if Jess is up to stay, we’d love it.”

“Let her stay,” Brandon says. “The kid loves it here.”

“If you’re sure it’s fine,” Mrs. Daniels agrees. “I know she’d hate to leave now.”

“Let’s ask her,” I say with a wink. “I’ll call you later. Mila has a bunch of extra clothes and pajamas if she decides to sleep over.”

We spend the next few minutes saying goodbye to Jess’s grandparents in between bouts of the girls dancing in excitement over the promise of a Christmas movie night and a sleepover.

I walk them to the door and stand outside, waving and watching as they drive away. Even after they’re gone, I wait, listening, watching—for what, I can’t be sure. Snow? I sniff, but the scent that had hung heavy in the air earlier has now disappeared. Left is only the crisp, musty scent of fallen leaves and autumn colors.

I fight back a wave of disappointment; I know not to expect snow on Thanksgiving every year, but I was hoping we’d make this year four of four. Still, the crispness feels nice on my face after the bubbling warmth of visitors, the crackling of Jax’s newly burning fire, and my fill of the best food in Harp’s Haven.

“Mom! Come put on your hot dog!”

I turn to head back inside. For years, the tradition is that I’ll place the hot dog ornament—my first ever ornament—onto the tree. Nobody else is allowed to decorate before I’ve nestled it between the branches.

I haven’t thought about it for a while, but the ornament was a gift from Tyler. He’d bought it on a whim as a souvenir for me, and for some reason, it’d held a special little place in my heart ever since.

“One minute,” I call back. “Let me close up out here, and then—”

My words dry up as the crunch of gravel beneath tires has me looking up, not believing what I’m seeing.

A black car, an Audi, is pulling into the driveway.

“Are we expecting anyone, Emily?” I call. “Do we have guests checking in?”

She’s giggling, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot, Luca.” Coming to a stop next to me in the doorway, she shivers and looks to me. “What’d you say?”

I nod out at the parking lot. “Tell me that’s a guest checking in.”

Emily’s bubbly attitude pops, and she clasps herself tighter in a hug against the cold. “We have one guest, but he requested a late check-in, and...that’s not a guest.”

I don’t answer.

“Maggie,” she says, slowly. “That’s Tyler. What’s going on? Have you talked to him without telling me?”

“Of course not. I don’t know what he’s doing here.”

“I’m guessing he’s here to talk to you,” Emily murmurs, unhooking her arms from around herself and sidling closer to me. “Do you want me to send him away? I’d be happy to.”

“No, his daughter’s here,” I say, gesturing helplessly behind me. “It’s Thanksgiving. He probably came to see her.”

“I can walk Jess out,” Emily says. “You don’t have to do this—it’s a holiday, Maggie. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in your own home.”

“The home he owns.” I watch the man who’s haunted my dreams for the last few weeks slide gracefully from the front seat. “I’m glad. I need to face him sooner or later for that very reason.”

“But it doesn’t have to be today.”

“I think it does. Can you do me a favor and stick the hot dog ornament on the tree so Mila and Jess can decorate?”

“We’ll wait for you.” Emily clasps my hand. “I’ve got some marshmallows to roast and tinsel to hang first. And Luca’s working on the mistletoe...” Her face colors at the last word. “Sorry.”

I give her a half-smile. “Do you mind if I do this alone?”

“Of course not.” Emily reaches onto tiptoes and gives me a hug and quick cheek kiss. “We’re all right inside if you need anything. Anything, Maggie.”

With one final squeeze, she disappears, and I hear the quiet click of the latch on the door as it slides into place. Squaring my shoulders, I face out toward the parking lot, not meeting Tyler’s eyes as he glides toward the front porch.

He moves with charisma, like he belongs in every space he occupies. The air seems to constrict outside, squeezing the oxygen out of it as that familiar smile grows nearer, filled with a twinge of concern that wasn’t there before.

He meets the front steps head on, taking them slowly, savoring the space between us—a few steps closer, and we won’t be able to stand in silence, pretending this is all a dream.

When he comes to a stop, it’s a foot away from me. Just close enough to be familiar, not close enough to be considered intimate. His eyes burn on me, but I can’t seem to pull my gaze from my feet.

“Margaret,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. “Sorry?”

My eyes raise to meet his, and it’s a mistake. There’s a rawness there, the joking in his smile long gone. The man before me looks worn, as if these last few weeks have been as much of a burden on him as they have been on me. Beneath the exhaustion there’s a peek of something else, a radiance that’s new, too.

“I’m sorry for leaving things the way I did,” he says, raising a hand. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” I interrupt. “You shouldn’t have left us like that.”

His eyes flash. “I wasn’t done talking.”

I inch my arms into a crossed position and lean against the front post of the porch. I’m jittery and nervous. I hadn’t meant to snap at him, but I couldn’t help it. He’s apologizing for the same issue that’s already come between us before, and I don’t like the pattern.

I nod for him to go ahead.

“I’m sorry I left things the way I did,” he continues, “but you have to believe me when I say I tried to right things, Margaret.”

I don’t trust myself not to give a sarcastic response, so I remain silent.

“I stopped by your room that night I don’t know how many times—fifteen? Twenty? More?” He shakes his head. “I know I didn’t sleep a damn second knowing you were just down the hall from me, upset, and not letting me in.”

“You kept a pretty big secret from me, Tyler.”

“I did, but—”

“It was something that involved me. When were you planning on telling me?”

“I bought the inn because it’s a good investment, and I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“Why would I be happy about it?!” My fingernails clench tighter against my arms. “I’ve spent the last six years trying to bulletproof a lifestyle for Mila and myself. When she was born, I had nothing. No help—my mom didn’t want anything to do with us at the time; I was a pregnant college dropout. Do you think people wanted to hire me? No.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“You weren’t around to know, remember?” I raise a hand. “That’s the entire problem. You disappear when things get difficult. I should’ve known better this time, but I saw what an amazing dad you are to Jess, and I thought maybe you’d changed. Maybe you’d had to grow up when Jess was born, and you did—you have, in some ways. I guess just not when it comes to me.”

“I didn’t leave!”

“What do you call running off to New York for three weeks?”

“You could’ve answered one of my calls. One damn call,” he says back, something breaking inside of him. “Do you know how much it pained me to be away from you? From Jess?”

“Then why were you?!” I step closer to him. “We didn’t want you to leave! How is that hard to understand?”

My arms are flailing, and Tyler catches one of them. “I understand that. Can you take a second to try and understand me?”

The plea in his voice gives me pause, as does the warmth of his hand on my cool arm. “I’m listening.”

“I didn’t leave Harp’s Haven,” he says, his voice calming. “I was preparing to stay.”

“Stay where?”

At this, Tyler reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and I note he’s wearing that soft gray sweater I admired on him a few weeks back. He looks utterly amazing, sturdy and broad, warm and protective.

From his pocket, he removes a few pieces of paper, neatly folded into a square. “First,” he says, unfolding one and handing it over. “The note I needed from Anastasia allowing me full custody to move Jess back here. I couldn’t move her from the state without this.”

I look at the neat little signature on the line, the words that give Tyler the freedom to keep his daughter here. At home.

“Then, there’s this,” he says, handing over the second sheet of paper. “The second point of business I needed to address.”

My eyes bug out at a number on the sheet of paper. There’s a dollar sign in front of it with so many zeros following it that I’m rendered temporarily speechless. “What is this?”

“I sold my company.”

“Why?! Tyler, you didn’t have to—I would’ve never asked...” I shake my head. “Why would you do this?”

“I don’t have any interest being in New York presenting to the board of directors, nor do I have the desire to travel around, scout out real estate, and build up new properties.”

“Then what—”

“Here’s my last offering.” Tyler hands over a third sheet of paper. “It’s old and outdated, and I didn’t have that fancy paper you’re supposed to use.”

My eyes scan over a document I haven’t seen since high school. “A resume?”

Tyler’s lips quirk up in a smile. “Until I figure out what I want to do next with my life, in terms of career, I thought I’d see if the Lilac Inn was hiring.”

“For what?”

“Exactly what it says.” He brings a finger and points to the top line. “Handyman. Maintenance, whatever you want to call it. Think of me as a contractor for hire, but you don’t have to pay me. Give me a list of home improvement projects for the inn, and I’ll earn my keep.”

“Tyler,” I say, my hands shaking. “You own this place. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He draws himself closer to me. “I realized coming back here the first time that I’d lost touch of me. Who I am, my roots—whatever the hell you want to call it. Made me think about what I really want to do in life.”

“What is that?”

“I want to raise my baby girl to be a strong and independent woman,” he says, his voice level. “I want to have a family, a home, a wife. You, Margaret—I want you. I want to create a life together.”

“Tyler, you can’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t feel, Margaret,” he says. “I know I was wrong to leave the way I did, but I tried. I tried to get you to listen, and you wouldn’t give me that. I’ve called you every night at nine thirty, just praying that each time would be the time you picked up. You never did—not once.”

“I couldn’t. I have...” My lips tremble. “I told you, Tyler, I’ve been spending most of my adult life trying to make ends meet. Finally, the ends are meeting, and we have extra. Our life is full—me and Mila, we are a family. We’re enough.”

Tyler’s face is frozen in a look of dismay, and his shoulders pull stiffly upward. “I understand.”

“We have a home, and a career, and a life. A family and amazing friends.” I gesture to the inn around me. “Can you see how it would terrify me to hear that you, Tyler Daniels, bought this place?”

Confusion streaks through his gaze. “I thought you’d be relieved. Nobody’s going to tear down Julia’s bookstore anymore—I own that, too. With the profit from the sale of my company backing the Lilac Inn, we’ll be able to expand and compete with any competition. Hell, we’ll squash any competition before they set foot in town. I thought I was helping you, Margaret. I don’t see how this could be a bad thing.”

“Sure, it’s job security,” I say, my eyes fluttering as I glance down at my feet. “So long as you like me.”

“What?” He reaches out, his hand resting on my chin. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re not engaged, Tyler, we haven’t made a lifelong commitment to one another. What happens if you decide you miss the excitement of the city? What if another woman comes along who’s more interesting than me, prettier, younger, whatever you want to say. What if you lose interest in me?”

“Maggie—”

I hold up a hand. “I have to watch out for Mila and myself. If you...if something happened between us and things went sour, I’d not only be out a career, I’d be out a family, a home, a life. It’s too much power to give one person, and I have to be careful—especially when it felt like I’d been blindsided. I don’t like change, Tyler, and that was a helluva change all at once.”

“Margaret.” His voice crashes over me, like waves on a rocky shore. “There is no one else—there won’t be anyone else. I want you—only you. I always have, and I always will. So long as you want me, I’ll be here.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Tyler.”

“Do you want me to sell the inn?”

I blink. “No, Claire wants you to have it, and it’ll be good for the business to have some additional cash, and—”

“Screw business, what do you want?”

I swallow. “I don’t know.”

“Can you think about it?” Tyler asks, stepping closer to me. “Can you forgive me for leaving the way I did, if I promise—and mean it—when I say I’ll never leave again? I’m moving back here, Margaret, and Jess is, too.”

“I can try,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m sorry, too. I know I was stubborn, and—”

Tyler’s kiss swallows the rest of my apology. His hands raise possessively to clasp my face between his palms, holding me to him, warming me from the inside out.

“Margaret Marshall,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love you more than you can imagine. Please, give me a chance.”

I give a shake of my head. “You just came back here out of the blue—I don’t know what to think.”

“Give me time,” he says. “Until Christmas. My assistant booked a room for me under his name—”

“You’re the guest arriving tonight?!”

“I was worried if I called and got Emily, she would hang up on me. Again.” He gives a hollow laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s the last time I’ll do that.”

“It’s fine, of course you can stay here, and Jess—Mila will be ecstatic.”

“So will Jess,” he says. “She’s been keeping me updated on all you’ve been doing for her while I’ve been away. Inviting her to Thanksgiving...” His eyes soften. “Thank you. I mean that. If you never love me, I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done for Jess.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything. You’re everything—my everything,” he says. “Give me some time. Let me stay here another month. Give me a list of projects to work on for the inn. You don’t even have to know I’m here if you don’t want. I’ll be a ghost, invisible, unless you decide you’d like otherwise.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tyler.” I give a wry laugh. “You own this place, now. You don’t need permission to be here.”

“I bought this place, but it’d be nothing without you, Emily, Jax, Luca, Lelia—come on, Margaret, I’m not a complete idiot. I might act like one sometimes, but I know Claire doesn’t run this place. You do. You make this place home.”

“Of course you can stay,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do projects, or whatever the hell you put in that brain of yours.”

“I want to.” His face pinches. “I’ve been out of things for too long. It’d be good for me—it’s work I want to do.”

I shiver. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“Are you cold? Let me take you inside.”

“Tyler,” I say, slipping my hand into his and holding him back onto the front steps.

“Yes?”

My breath fogs the air as I breathe, trying to put a finger on the words I want to say. Despite my arguments, my fears, my desire to stay away from him, I know that I can’t. My heart is thumping with his every touch, and my body is malleable against him. I need Tyler as much as he says he needs me.

Before I can utter anything of the sort, the first real snowflake of the season falls. Bigger than the last one, and this time, it’s not alone. Chubby little flakes flutter down, the smell of snow swirling around us like a perfume.

“Look,” I murmur, holding out a hand. “It came!”

Silently, Tyler wraps me in his arms. My head comes to rest on his chest, and we stand together, glued in a motionless slow dance as blips of white begin to pelt down faster and faster, obscuring my vision as they land on my lashes.

I blink, laughing as Tyler kisses them away, his lips warm against my cheek. His mouth makes its way down to my neck, sending fissures of electricity through my body. Eventually, he makes his way back to my mouth, parts my lips, and our tongues tangle in a wild, hopeful lust for more.

When we finally separate, the world around us has a dusting of white.

He meets my gaze. “I love you, Margaret.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” I finally murmur. “And I promise you, I’m going to try.”

Tyler kisses my forehead mid-reply when the front door swings open.

There are a few mixed looks from the staff of the inn, puzzled expressions as Jax spies us locked together, and Luca frowns. Emily is more optimistic, a faint smile quirking her lips upward, but it’s Jess who sums up the swirl of emotions best of all.

“Dad!” she cries, flinging herself into a three-way hug with me sandwiched between father and daughter. “You’re home!”