Page 14 of One S'more Time

The words send warmth blooming through my chest, spreading outward until I feel it in every part of me. I turn in his arms to face him, needing to see his eyes when I say what I've been feeling for longer than I've admitted even to myself.

"I love you too," I whisper, the truth of it settling into my bones like it's always belonged there. "It terrifies me, but I do."

His smile is slow and beautiful, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that first made my heart flutter. "We can be terrified together," he says, brushing a curl from my face with gentle fingers. "As long as we're together, I can handle a little terror."

I laugh softly, snuggling closer to his warmth. "Deal."

As his arms tighten around me, I realize that for the first time in years, I feel completely at peace. The doubts thathave haunted me, the fear of falling short of expectations—they haven't disappeared entirely, but they've retreated to whispers I can barely hear over the steady beat of Nate's heart against mine.

Whatever happens tomorrow, or the day after, or all the days that follow, I know this: what we've found together is real. Not because a matchmaker saw potential, but because we chose each other, again and again, despite our fears and insecurities.

And that choice—that leap of faith—feels like the sweetest, most perfect recipe I've ever created.

S'MORE THAN PERFECT

EPILOGUE - ELLIE

Three months later, I'm standing at the edge of the same bonfire site where Nate and I first connected. The autumn chill has given way to winter's bite, but tonight is surprisingly mild for December, as if the weather itself is celebrating with us.

"You sure you're not cold?" Nate appears beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist from behind. His warmth seeps through my sweater, and I lean back against his solid chest.

"I'm perfect," I murmur, covering his hands with mine. "Though I wouldn't say no to some hot chocolate later."

"With those tiny marshmallows you hide in the back of your pantry?" His breath tickles my ear.

I turn in his arms, mock outrage on my face. "You found my secret stash?"

"Baker, I know all your hiding spots by now." His smile transforms his face, reaching all the way to his eyes in a way that makes my stomach do a little flip. "Including that tin of shortbread behind the flour canisters that you think I don't know about."

The bonfire crackles and pops, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. Around us, the fundraiser for the fire department's winter coat drive is in full swing. Children roast marshmallows under careful supervision, while adults chat over cups of mulled cider. My cupcake stand—now featuring winter-themed treats—has been cleared out, save for the special box I set aside for later.

A familiar bark draws my attention, and I see Cooper bounding toward us through the crowd, his leash trailing behind him. He must have slipped away from Nate's friend who was watching him. His tail wags frantically as he reaches us, circling our legs in excited greeting before sitting at my feet, looking up expectantly.

"Someone missed you," Nate laughs, reaching down to scratch behind Cooper's ears. "Can't say I blame him."

I crouch down to Cooper's level, accepting his enthusiastic face licks with a laugh. "Hey, buddy. Don't worry, I didn't forget about you." I pull a small treat from my pocket—a homemade dog biscuit shaped like a star that I'd baked this morning. His gentle take of the treat from my palm makes my heart swell. In these past months, Cooper has become as much mine as Nate's, his unconditional affection a daily reminder of how love should be—straightforward and without judgment.

"Remember the first time we were here?" I ask, rising to my feet and watching the flames dance. "I was such a mess."

"You were magnificent," Nate corrects, tucking a curl behind my ear. "Covered in frosting, cursing under your breath, and still managing to make the best damn cupcakes I'd ever tasted."

"Such a charmer." I poke his chest gently.

"Just honest." He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

He leads me away from the crowd, Cooper trotting faithfully alongside us, to a quieter spot where a smaller fire pit glows. A blanket is spread nearby, with two long roasting sticks and a bag of premium marshmallows waiting.

"What's this?" I ask, though warmth spreads through me at his thoughtfulness.

"I figured we could use a moment away from the chaos." He gestures for me to sit, then settles beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. Cooper circles twice before curling up at our feet, his head resting on his paws, but his eyes alert and watchful. "Plus, I've been told my marshmallow-roasting technique is superior to all others."

"Is that so?" I laugh, accepting the stick he hands me. "Pretty confident for someone who burns toast."

"Toast and marshmallows are completely different skill sets," he protests, spearing a marshmallow with practiced precision. "Watch and learn."

I watch him rotate the marshmallow with patient, methodical turns, keeping it just above the flames. His firefighter's knowledge of heat management pays off—the marshmallow turns a perfect golden brown, no charring in sight.

"Impressive," I admit, attempting to mimic his technique with my own marshmallow. Mine catches fire almost immediately.

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