Page 49 of Story Of My Heart

I can’t stop checking my watch. I keep running through the numbers in my head, calculating what time Fallon and Daisy left this morning, factoring in the usual traffic, recent weather patterns, additional time for a bathroom stop, and how long it takes to get from the parking garage into the building and up to the top floors. By all accounts, they should be here by now. Either Piper isn’t coming, and they aren’t sure how to tell me, or she was extremely hard to convince.

My stomach has been in knots all morning, not responding well to the coffee I lobbed into it like a live grenade, or the skimpy piece of toast I consumed as a peace offering. I’ve never been this nervous at a launch party before. There really isn’t anything to be nervous about. The app itself has been a success all throughout trials. I don’t want to admit to reading Sunset Fake, but I dip my toe in occasionally, and a majority of pairs from the trial have been spotted around town together. I didn’t have to lift a finger planning the party. Fallon handled it all with her usual skill. The mini-golf course really lit a fire under her. I should buy the resort a set of paddle boats next.

I mill about the crowd in the lobby, watching as they drink their pink cocktails and snack on heart shaped cookies, take selfies in our photo corner under a banner with our logo on it, and look at booking packages for the resort. It was Ledger’s idea to combine the two concepts, offering special rates for couple’s weekends if booked through the app, with the opportunity to schedule group dates with a whole slew of planned activities. If this trip has taught me nothing else, it’s that my family is far more competent than I give them credit for. They’re all contributing to the success of this family resort by doing the things that suit them best.

An idea underscored by Fallon’s success this afternoon, made apparent by her and Daisy’s appearance through the front doors of the lodge, with a cautiously optimistic Piper in tow. I steel my nerves, positioning myself by the fireplace where we’ve hung another banner with the company logo, alongside a bevy of paper roses and confetti hearts. I may not have planned this party, but I did spend the better part of our two weeks apart planning this gambit. No matter how much I remind myself that I’ve done all I can, my heart keeps hammering in my chest, my blood sounding like a jet engine between my ears.

Since the day Piper entered my life, never once have we been apart for more than a few days, let alone two weeks. This stretch has been torturous, every ticking second feeling like a chisel carving deeper into my chest. Her absence is a cold void, her smile, her laugh, her warmth—all hauntingly absent, leaving me grappling with a silence that’s too heavy, too hollow.

And now she’s here. But she’s rigid when all I want is for her to soften the moment she looks at me.

“What’s this?” Piper asks, waving a hand first at the fireplace, then at the assembled guests. Her tone is dry, almost dismissive—definitely not the greeting I’d hoped for. Her cold entrance sets my nerves on edge, and I feel a twinge of irritation. Didn’t even say hello or ask how I’ve been. The urge to comment bubbles up, but I tamp it down, choosing instead to send her a link to the app. Her phone vibrates sharply in her hand, interrupting the icy atmosphere between us.

She looks down at it, her brows knitting together in a deep frown. “You did it. And without any more help from me.” Her voice is thick with bitterness, and the frown seems etched into her lips permanently. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” The words are right, but the tone is all wrong, like vinegar masquerading as honey.

“I feel like this is starting off wrong,” I sigh, taking hesitant steps towards her, bridging the gap with a careful tread. The optics of the situation dawn on me—it looks like I’ve brought her all this way just to boast. “Me. Words. I’m not even surprised.” My own awkwardness with communication always seems to complicate things.

Piper opens her mouth to retort, her eyes flashing with the spark of an impending argument. I preempt her by reaching out and taking her hands in mine, an attempt to ground the moment and steer us away from conflict. Her hands are cold, her grip tentative.

“This isn’t my project. This is our project. Look at the company name.” I urge her gently, trying to draw her attention to something beyond the immediate tension.

She squints towards the banner above the fireplace, her posture easing slightly. “Hart Story Enterprises?” Her voice is a mix of surprise and curiosity, a crack in her frosty demeanor.

“I thought this could be the first of many projects. You’ve always supported me.” I hold her gaze, trying to convey sincerity with every word.

“I have.” Her acknowledgment is soft, almost introspective.

“And I’ve always taken it for granted.” This confession is harder to make than I anticipated.

At this, a small laugh escapes her, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen since that tumultuous night. “You have.” Her agreement, light yet laden with truth, makes my heart lurch.

“That stops. Now. I need you to know that…” The words choke in my throat, a sudden wave of nerves tightening around my vocal cords. I close my eyes, battling the surge of emotion, and take a long, shaky breath. When I open them, her face is awash with a soft, patient expression, waiting.

“I love you.” The confession spills out, raw and unguarded. Her reaction is a swift parade of emotions—surprise, disbelief, a touch of amusement, and then, a dawning warmth.

“Really?” Her voice is a whisper, thick with emotion.

“Yeah, I do.” Saying it feels like breaking through a barrier I hadn’t fully acknowledged. “Apparently, I have for a long time, only I didn’t recognize it as love, and I couldn’t accept that I loved you because … I could never lose you. I told you that all the time. I just…”

“You were afraid,” she finishes for me, her voice a gentle echo of understanding. “I get it. Love is scary. It’s like making a major purchase without a return policy.”

I nod, the analogy striking a chord. “Totally and utterly terrifying. The thing is, I could see I was losing you by not loving you too. And that was worse. So, I’m going all in. We survived the world’s longest beta test. I tweaked a few things. And I think we’re ready to launch too. If you’re willing to give me a chance. I won’t be perfect, but I promise you I will always try my hardest to make your world better because I’m in it.”

Her grip tightens around my hands, a lifeline in the swirling uncertainty. “It’s all I wanted, for you to pick me. To love me. Yes.”

Relief floods me, though I know this is just the beginning. “Hold that thought.” Still clasping her hand, I guide her around to the other side of the fireplace, where another surprise awaits. “There’s more.”

I watch as her eyes rove over the display Fallon and I built here. A three-tiered display stands in the middle, covered in chocolate-themed party favors, ranging from chocolate-shaped soaps to pens with our new logo and hot chocolate bombs. Of course, we couldn’t get any of the real eventual product, seeing as how our lead chocolatier hadn’t signed on to the project yet.

“What is this?”

“Your dream. You wanted to make and sell chocolates and truffles. You’re amazing at it. I just hijacked you along the way.” Pulling a cord, I unroll a banner on this side of the fireplace too.

“Hart Story Chocolatier?” Piper reads, biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

Two surprises down. One more to go. I drop to one knee before I can let my nerves get the better of me, and reach into my pocket. “I always told you I don’t want to lose you. I just never opened up enough to give you a reason to stay. I really do love you, Piper. With my whole heart. You make me want to be a better man. I’ll work to always respect your boundaries and build our dreams together. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Piper responds so quickly and firmly that it seems like the question was superfluous. “Definitely yes.”

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