Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
He kissed her softly. “I’m asking if we can keep growing… side by side.”
Zoe rested her forehead against his. “Then yes.”
Later that evening, as they walked back to the cottage under a sky streaked with orange and indigo, Zoe caught herself watching the way Luke reached for her hand.
Like it was second nature.
Like it was home.
Chapter 15: Forever in Willow Creek
Winter came gently to Willow Creek.
The leaves had long since fallen, blanketing the sidewalks in crisp gold and brown. Twinkling lights lined every storefront, and wreaths hung from porch railings and lamp posts. The town had a way of making even the quietest days feel special.
Zoe stood behind the counter at Sweet Bloom Flowers, arranging a holiday bouquet for one of Mae’s last-minute party requests. Her hands moved quickly, clipping stems, fluffing pine, tucking in deep red roses—while soft jazz played on the radio. She’d become something of a regular fixture at the shop, helping Sarah a few days a week while freelancing part-time for a small consulting agency out of Asheville.
No more long commutes.
No more corporate marathons.
Just time.
Time to think. To breathe. To love.
The bell over the door jingled, and Zoe looked up, already smiling.
Luke stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold. He wore that old navy work jacket she loved and held two steaming cups of cider.
“You’re late,” she teased.
“I’m exactly on time,” he said, setting one of the cups beside her. “I waited until Mae left. I like having you to myself.”
Zoe chuckled. “Mae’s convinced we’re getting engaged next spring.”
“Well, she’s not wrong.”
Zoe froze mid-bouquet. “What?”
Luke shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world. “I mean, I haven’t asked yet. But I’ve got a few ideas.”
She blinked at him, heart suddenly racing. “You do?”
He leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry. I won’t do it here, surrounded by floral foam and pine sap. I’m not completely hopeless.”
She tossed a sprig of holly at him, laughing. “You’re dangerously close.”
They sipped cider in companionable silence for a few minutes before Luke reached across the counter and took her hand.
“You happy?” he asked softly.
Zoe looked at him—really looked—and felt the truth settle deep in her chest.
“I didn’t know I could be,” she whispered. “Not like this.”
“Good,” he said, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. “Because I’m thinking about tearing down that shed behind the garage and building something real. With a porch. Maybe a garden.”
Zoe tilted her head. “What kind of something?”
“A home.”
He let the word hang in the air between them.
“And I want you in it.”
Her throat tightened. Not from fear. Not from doubt. But from the overwhelming sense of rightness.
“I’m in,” she said, voice steady.
The following weekend, they stood beneath a snow-dusted arbor at the Winter Market, handing out cider and laughing as Granny Mae heckled every couple within earshot. Sarah had made Zoe a wreath crown. Luke wore a pine-scented flannel. Zoe swore she’d accidentally set on fire if he didn’t retire it soon.
They weren’t perfect.
They had bills and work and the occasional misunderstanding about laundry or forgotten dinner plans.
But they had each other.
They had morning walks. Shared coffee. Grease-streaked kisses in the garage and evenings tangled together on the cottage porch swing. They had a love that wasn’t flashy—but it was honest. Earned.
As the snow began to fall and the last of the vendors packed up their booths, Luke pulled Zoe close.
“This still feel like the wrong life?” he whispered.
She smiled up at him, eyes bright with all the things she never had to chase anymore.
“No,” she said. “This feels like forever.”
And in Willow Creek, forever didn’t have to be big.
It just had to be true.
Epilogue
One Year Later The house sat on a quiet hill at the edge of Willow Creek, where the woods began to thicken, and the sunsets came in slow and golden. It wasn’t big. Just two bedrooms, wide windows, and the porch Zoe had once only dreamed of, now real, now home.
Zoe stood barefoot in the kitchen, her hair tied up in a messy bun, flour dusting the edge of her sleeve. A pie cooled on the counter beside her, and the smell of cinnamon and apples filled the warm, bright space. Outside, wind chimes played a lazy song in the breeze.
Life wasn’t slower, it was just quieter now. And Zoe had learned to love the quiet.
From the back porch, she could hear the soft rumble of Luke’s voice as he worked on a client’s truck in the garage out back. The radio played something old and country, and every now and then, she’d catch him singing under his breath—off-key and endearing.
She checked the time. Penny and Granny Mae were due in twenty minutes for their weekly Sunday lunch. Sarah would bring dessert even though Zoe had insisted they didn’t need more than one pie. That argument had never gone her way.