The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (100)

I grabbed my coffee and headed toward the kitchen, stopping to kiss Eve on the cheek as she stood at the threshold, staring at her father. As I stepped past her, she moved closer to him. I stopped just around the corner to listen.

“I love you,” she said softly to him. “I’m going to make you proud, but not because I have to, just because I want to.”

“Eve,” he said her name, and his voice cracked with emotion.

She sniffled, and I continued to the kitchen.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be worth it.





EPILOGUE


FAITH HILL & TIM MCGRAW, “IT’S YOUR LOVE”





10 years later …

Eve

Colorado.

Alabama.

Washington.

“We’re done moving,” I said. “So you can take those flowers and shove them up your—”

“Tell Mommy to watch her mouth,” Kyle said to our four-year-old twin girls, Bonnie and Louise, as he split the bouquet in half.

They walked behind the counter to give me the flowers in exchange for caramel apple cookies. I put the flowers in water while the girls sat at a café table by the window. My bakery opened in fifteen minutes.

“I got the call,” Kyle said, wrapping his arms around me.

I refused to look at him. “The call” was code for pack everything up, he got a new job, and it was time to move.

“I’m not going. I finally opened my bakery. Josh graduates in three years. The girls love it here. Clifford has room to roam. My orchard is thriving. So no.” I shook my head and refused to look at him even though his face was inches from mine. “It’s my turn.”

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he said on a chuckle.

“I’m not mad. I’m matter-of-fact. And don’t think of it as sexy because I’m not having sex with you ever again if we’re moving. In fact, I’m not moving. I’ll keep the kids and the dog, and you can leave. You’re getting kind of old anyway. It might be time to trade you in for a younger model.”

“Baby,” he lowered his voice, brushing his lips along my ear, “I don’t know where to start. First, we’ve already had sex twice today, and it’s not even nine a.m. So your sex threats don’t hold up.”

I glanced over at the girls to see if they were listening to us.

“Second,” he continued, “no other man could handle you. They’d try to tame you, and that would be a crime.”

I frowned at his nonsense. “Whatever call you got, call them back and tell them no.”

“I can’t. I already said yes.”

“Kyle,” my voice cracked as I felt my dreams slipping away. I had only had my bakery for nine months.

We always moved for his job, chased his dreams. But he promised when we bought land with an apple orchard outside of Seattle, it would be the last time. He said he’d be content with coaching high school football and teaching math while supporting my dreams.

We’d painted rooms.

Made friends.

Found a church the girls liked.

He even built the girls and me a hut.

“I know,” he kissed my forehead. “I could cry too.”

I wasn’t going to cry, but I was close.

“Because I never thought the Huskies would offer me the offensive coordinator position, but they did.”

I blinked back my tears and reared my head to look at him. He grinned.

“What?”

He nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You got a job with the University of Washington?”

He nodded.

“In Seattle?”

Another nod.

“We’re not moving?”

He shook his head.

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. It felt like we’d won the lottery.

He dragged his lips from my mouth to my ear. “And I only said yes because it didn’t require us to move.”

I released him and eyed him with distrust. “You mean to tell me that if the University of Iowa would have offered you the same position, you would have turned them down?”

“Correct.”

“Liar.”

He laughed. “I’m not lying. I told you years ago that when you were ready to spread those beautiful wings of yours, I would move heaven and earth to let you fly.”

“You said that in the throes of passion.”

“Baby, whenever we’re in the same room, I’m in the throes of passion. I said it because I meant it. I’m only happy when you’re happy. Again, have you forgotten about this morning?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I have always said the world would be a better place if it were filled with more people like my wife. And you know that you’d never let me go because as much as you love this bakery and your orchard, you believe a job is an afterthought. When people think of you, you want them to say, ‘Eve Collins loves to fish, stargaze, skip rocks along the water, pick apples and bake pies, dance to good music, go to the movies with friends, and make love in fields of wildflowers with her sexy husband who has a little gray in his beard.’”

I grinned because Kyle listened. He heard every word I said as a young woman ten years ago. And I grinned because he was right. It wasn’t about selling cookies and pies, making money, or proving to anyone that I was a success. But it felt damn good that he knew that and still respected my desire to do it anyway.