Page 48 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

We stood there like that for a beat—breathless, shaking, real.

Then her hands found my shirt collar, and she pulled me in.

Our lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the ones we’d stolen before. This wasn’t about chemistry or tension. This was about everything we’d been carrying—the ache, the doubts, the stubborn hope. Her mouth moved against mine like a prayer she hadn’t known how to say until now.

And I kissed her back like I was answering it.

My hands slid around her waist, drawing her closer. She sighed into the kiss, and it echoed down my spine. My heart beat hard against her chest, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel hollow.

I felt whole.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads stayed pressed together. Her breath was uneven. Her eyes shimmered, but this time it wasn’t from sadness—it was from something that felt suspiciously like joy.

“So…” she whispered, the word feather-light. “Are you staying?”

I exhaled, my smile slow and certain. “Only if I get to build a life with you in it.”

Something in her face softened. She reached up, hand trembling slightly, and pressed her palm flat against my chest—right over my heart.

“Then we start over,” she whispered, voice full of wonder. “Together.”

I closed my eyes, holding the moment like a lifeline. The world around us kept spinning—water lapping at the shore, wind rustling through the trees—but everything that mattered was standing right here in front of me.

And this time, I wasn’t walking away.

Chapter thirteen

Ruby

The bell over the bakery door chimed just as I stepped in, and every head in the room snapped in my direction like I was carrying a flaming torch instead of my purse.

I blinked.

Three women near the pastry case leaned closer together, their whispers loud enough to count as commentary. Two teenagers nudged each other, then immediately pretended to be interested in bagels. And at the back booth, old Mr. Langley actually lifted his bifocals to get a better look at me—then nodded like he’d just solved a mystery.

Oh no.

This wasn’t about the gala awards. This was about something else entirely.

“Morning, sugar,” Eleanor sang from behind the counter, wearing her signature floral apron and the exact kind of knowing smile that made me want to reverse into a potted plant. “Fancy seeing you out in the daylight.”

I slid my sunglasses off, already regretting my outfit—a cute sundress that now felt like walking proof I’d had a very good night.

“Just here for a croissant,” I said too brightly.

Eleanor chuckled as she poured coffee into a floral to-go cup. “Sure, you are.”

“Seriously.” I pointed to the pastry display. “See? That one with the little chocolate drizzle? He’s my real soulmate.”

She handed me the cup but didn’t let go. Her eyes sparkled. “You know, I always hoped you’d find a man who looked at you like a bouquet he never wants to unpick.”

I choked on air.

“I’m sorry—what?”

“You heard me.” She winked. “And I heard you told him you loved him. In front of a ballroom full of people. That’s some Nora Ephron-level courage, honey.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Oh, great. So, this is just... public record now?”

---