Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(114)
I know my mother-in-law is in here somewhere, so I’m avoiding our inevitable meeting for as long as possible by keeping myself busy, taking candid photographs of everyone like Aurora taught me. That’s when I take the best one: Aurora, behind the cash register with the biggest smile on her face, selling a huge pile of books to someone. The light pouring in through the windows is making her practically glow. I’m immediately overwhelmed by her beauty, and the feeling of pride that she did all of this herself.
She spots me watching her while her customer looks down, patting around their body to find their wallet. I mouth “I love you” and she mouths it back. I mouth “I’m so proud of you,” and she mouths back something that looks like “I’m proud of how hot you are.” It’s the moment that all the moving, all the renovations, all the working in my boxers because I couldn’t find the box with our clothes feels totally worth it. Everything brought us here, to being this blissfully happy.
After another hour, I realize that I won’t be able to work from the store like I was planning to. I’ll get absolutely no work done if I’m staring at my wife all day. Rory is a natural, like I knew she would be, and every customer makes her relax a bit more.
When the opening party starts to wind down and she steps away from behind the register, someone, likely JJ, shouts, “Speech!” We all watch in awe as she accepts a glass of champagne and throws it back quickly. Sarah tuts disapprovingly, but Aurora is an expert at not listening to her mom’s complaints. “It’s for courage.” She laughs. “Um . . .”
I make my way through the people who have gathered around her so she can see me front and center. Her shoulders relax, and her eyes lock on me.
“Thank you everyone for being here today. Really, thank you. I can’t believe it. I know a lot of you have traveled a long way, and I’ve promised those of you staying with us pancakes in the morning, and this is my way of telling you that I’m really terrible at making pancakes.” She really is. “Thank you to the people of Meadow Springs for welcoming us into your community. I know it wasn’t easy at first, but Russ and I feel so at home here. For everyone else who might not know, many years ago, I made a joke about opening a strip club here. Apparently nobody forgot.”
Everyone in the room laughs, and out of the corner of my eye I spot Mrs. Brown muttering something to John from one of the bowling stores. “Thank you to everyone who helped get the store ready. My wonderful father-in-law for spending all his time making sure things were perfect; my friends for helping get rid of that awful magnolia color; and for helping to make hundreds of tiny stars. Thanks to my mom for sending me carefully curated lists of books I should buy.
“God, this is turning into an Oscar speech. I’ll wrap it up. It’s no secret that I love books. I love stories about people I don’t know, and places I haven’t been to. I’ve lived a thousand lives between a thousand pages, but no story, no life, no page has ever made me as happy as you do, Russ Callaghan.” Everyone awws, and I feel the tips of my ears turn pink. “Before I met you, I hadn’t considered what my happy ending might look like. I wasn’t sure I’d get one. You’re my happy ending, Russ. I fell in love with you in this place, and watching you help build our life here has made me fall in love with you a million more times. Thank you for giving me a life that feels too good to be true. Thank you for letting me bring home animals even when you say no. Thank you for letting me live my dreams every day.”
I want to rush over there and kiss her until her lips turn pink, but this is her job now and I don’t want to embarrass her. Instead, I raise my glass in her direction. “To happy endings.”
She raises her glass. “And unlimited pets.”
“No,” I immediately respond, but it’s too late.
“To happy endings and unlimited pets,” the room echoes.
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Hannah Grace is an English self-labeled “fluffy comfort book” author, writing predominantly new adult and contemporary romance from her home in Manchester, England. When she’s not describing everyone’s eyes ten-thousand times a chapter, accidentally giving multiple characters the same name, or using English sayings that no one understands in her American books, you can find her hanging out with her husband and two dogs, Pig and Bear.