I turn her chin and kiss her slow, tasting coffee and the kind of future I didn’t think existed for men like me. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers and say it one more time, because it’s the truest thing I’ve got.
“You're staying,” I murmur. “Staying to build a life with me. I’m gonna build whatever you need to make that easier. A studio. A gallery. A sign. Hell, a damn espresso bar if it keeps you here.”
She laughs into my mouth. “Deal,” she whispers. “On one condition.”
“Of course.”
“You let me love you on purpose. Every day. Not just because a storm forced us into the same room.”
“Every day,” I promise.
Outside, the mountain stands quiet, a sentinel dusted in light. Inside, the cabin is warm and bright, not a tomb but a blueprint. We’ve got lists and lumber and a thousand tiny things to fix.
But we’ve got time and we’ve got each other.
And for the first time in years, that feels like enough to build a life on.
Epilogue
Penny
One Month Later
If you’d told me a month ago I’d be standing in a gallery full of my work, with Edward Rogers of all people leaning against the back wall in an actual button-down shirt, I’d have laughed in your face.
But here we are.
Fairy lights string across the beams, wine sloshes into plastic cups of all my guests and everywhere you look, my canvases line the walls.
Some bright with color, others dark and jagged. And right there, in the best lit corner of the room, hangs one ofhis.
The showcase piece.
Edward’s soldier sketch. The one he swore would never leave his cabin.
It’s framed in rough oak he milled himself. It looks raw and alive, and I’ve caught at least three different people standing in front of it with tears in their eyes.
“Sunshine.” Edward's deep voice rumbles from behind me, low enough that only I hear. “You’re glowing, baby.”
I turn, my wine trembling in my hand. “That’s sweat. Do you have any idea how stressful it is pretending to understand when people use words like ‘hauntingly visceral’?”
His mouth twitches. “Pretty sure that means they like it.”
“I know what it means, grump.”
His blue eyes soften, just for me. “They’re not just talking about your work, Penny. They’re talking about mine too. And that’s your fault.”
I grin and bite my lip. “You’re welcome. I told you people needed to see it.”
Before he can argue, another voice breaks in.
“Penny, there you are, dear.”
I turn to see my mother dressed with a polish. Pearls and all. She clasps my shoulders, the judgement in her eyes shining.
“This is… wonderful. Truly, it is. I’m so proud of you.”
Behind her, Dad shakes Edward’s hand. I nearly choke on my drink. The handshake is firm and from what I can tell, completely respectful.
