Chapter 10
I woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes.
Jake was in the kitchen, wearing an apron that said “KISS THE MECHANIC,” flipping pancakes on the griddle.
“Happy anniversary,” he said, smiling when he saw me.
I blinked.
Anniversary?
Our three-month courthouse anniversary had been the day of the wedding.
This was…
“Six months,” he said, walking over, handing me a plate piled high with pancakes, chocolate chips, and whipped cream. “Six months since I married the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I laughed, taking the plate.
“You’re such a dork,” I said.
“Your dork,” he said, kissing me.
After breakfast, he blindfolded me, leading me out to the truck.
“Jake,” I said, laughing. “Where are we going?”
“Patience,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
We drove for twenty minutes, then he pulled over, cut the engine, and helped me out.
He untied the blindfold.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the sun.
We were at the lake.
The stretch of shoreline just down from our cottage, the one that had been empty and overgrown for as long as I could remember.
But it wasn’t empty anymore.
There was a small, beautiful building there, wood and glass, with a big garage door on one side and rows of windows on the other.
A sign out front read: HALE COMMUNITY MECHANIC & MENTORSHIP CENTER.
I stared at it, my mouth falling open.
“Jake,” I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“I bought the land last month,” he said. “We’re going to teach kids from the south side how to fix cars. Give them a skill. A place to go after school. A way to earn money for college. No one gets turned away. No one pays a dime. It’s all free.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“It’s perfect,” I said, turning in his arms to look at him.
He smiled, then reached into his pocket and got down on one knee.
My breath caught.
“Mia Rose Carter,” he said, pulling a small velvet box out of his pocket. “I asked you to marry me once in the parking lot of a gas station at 2 a.m., with a ring I’d made out of a washer from the shop. You said yes. And it was the best day of my life.”
He opened the box.
Inside was a ring.
A simple platinum band, with a small, perfect diamond in the center, and two tiny sapphires on either side—my birthstone and his.
It wasn’t flashy.
It wasn’t expensive enough to make the news.
It was us.
“But I want to do it right this time,” he said, his eyes glistening. “In front of everyone we love. With a real ring. With a real promise. I promise to love you when we’re fixing cars in the shop, and when we’re in boardrooms making deals. I promise to love you when we’re rich, and if we ever lose it all, I’ll love you just as much when we’re eating peanut butter sandwiches on the floor of our cottage. I promise to always defend you. To always stand up for you. To always choose you. Every single day. For the rest of my life. Will you marry me? Again?”
I was crying so hard I could barely speak.
I nodded, over and over.
“Yes,” I said, laughing through the tears. “A thousand times yes.”
He slipped the ring on my finger, then stood up and kissed me, holding me tight.
When we pulled apart, I heard clapping.
I looked over.
Charlotte was there, holding a camera, crying.
Mom and Dad were there, smiling, holding a big sheet cake that said “CONGRATULATIONS MIA & JAKE.”
Sarah was there, and the guys from the auto shop, and a dozen kids from the neighborhood who were already running toward the new center, yelling with excitement.
We had the ceremony right there, on the shore of the lake, as the sun started to go down.
No big wedding.
No designer dresses.
No crystal chandeliers or five-tier cakes.
Just us.
Our family.
Our friends.
The people who loved us for who we were, not what we had.
Charlotte was my maid of honor.
She gave a speech that made everyone cry, talking about how she’d spent her whole life trying to be perfect, only to realize the only perfect thing she’d ever had was her little sister.
Mom and Dad gave a speech too, apologizing again, promising to spend the rest of their lives making it up to us.
When it was time to say our vows, Jake looked at me, his eyes soft.
“I don’t need billions of dollars,” he said. “I don’t need a skyscraper with my name on it. All I need is you. You’re my home. You’re my everything.”
I squeezed his hands.
“I used to think I wasn’t good enough,” I said. “For you. For my family. For anything. But you taught me that I am. You taught me that love isn’t about money or status or what other people think. It’s about choosing each other. Every day. And I choose you. For the rest of my life.”
We kissed as the sun dipped below the lake, painting the sky pink and gold.
Later, after everyone had left, we walked back to the cottage, hand in hand.
I looked at the new ring on my finger, then at the old washer ring Jake had given me that first time, which I now wore on a chain around my neck, right next to the book charm Charlotte had given me.
I thought of everything we’d been through.
The wedding.
The lies.
The betrayal.
The anger.
The hurt.
And then the healing.
The forgiveness.
The love that had gotten stronger through every single storm.
Jake stopped on the porch, pulling me close.
“You okay?” he said, brushing a strand of hair off my face.
I smiled, leaning into him.
“I’m perfect,” I said.
And I meant it.
I was safe.
I was loved.
I was confident.
I had a husband who adored me.
A sister who was finally my friend again.
Parents who were trying, really trying, to be better.
A bookstore that was mine.
A life that was ours.
Justice had been served.
Ethan was in prison, paying for the crimes he’d committed.
Charlotte had rebuilt her life, stronger and better than before.
Our family was mended, not perfect, but whole.
Jake kissed me again, soft and slow, the lake lapping gently at the shore behind us.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t worry about the future.
I didn’t worry about being good enough.
I didn’t worry about what other people thought.
I just was.
Happy.
Loved.
Home.
May you like
And I knew, with every fiber of my being, that whatever came next…
We’d face it together.
