Page 22 of Pumpkins & Promises
I walk up to the porch and set the pumpkin by the front door, where Wesley will see it when he comes out. In the glow of the porch light, the carved letters look stark and hopeful.
I'm turning to walk back to my car when the front door opens behind me.
"Emily?"
I freeze, my hand on the car door handle. Wesley is standing on the porch in jeans and a sweater, looking at the pumpkin and then at me.
"You carved this?"
I turn around slowly, my heart hammering. "Yeah."
Wesley picks up the pumpkin, running his fingers over the letters I spent an hour perfecting. "STAY."
"I know it's presumptuous," I say quickly. "And maybe too late. But I talked to Hazel, and she made me realize that we both got scared. You because you've been hurt before, and me because I was afraid someone like you couldn't really want someone like me."
Wesley sets the pumpkin down and walks to the edge of the porch. "Emily?—"
"I'm not using you for publicity," I continue, the words tumbling out. "I didn't even know my followers had tripled until your agent mentioned it. I sent you those photos because I thought they were sweet, not because I was trying to capitalize on anything."
"I know," Wesley says quietly.
"You do?"
"I've known since about five minutes after you walked away from me last night." He runs a hand through his hair. "My agent was making assumptions, and instead of correcting him, I let my own fear take over. I'm sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry."
I take a step closer to the porch. "So what does that mean?"
"It means I've spent the last twenty-four hours trying to figure out how to tell you that this stopped being fake for me. That when I'm with you, I feel like the person I want to be instead of the person I'm afraid I am."
"Wesley..."
"It means," he says, walking down the porch steps until he's standing right in front of me, "that I don't want this to be an arrangement anymore. I want it to be real. If you'll have me."
I look up at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, the hope and fear mixed together. "I already gave you my answer.”
I carved it into a pumpkin before he asked.
Wesley reaches up and touches my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "So we're doing this? For real this time?"
"For real," I whisper.
When he kisses me, it tastes like promises and second chances and all the conversations we're going to have about building something true together. When we break apart, we're both smiling.
"So," Wesley says, his forehead resting against mine, "what happens now?"
"Now," I say, taking his hand, "we figure out what comes after the pumpkin."
"Together?"
"Together."
As we sit on the porch steps, my hand in his and our pumpkin between us, I realize that Hazel was right. This isn't an ending at all.
It's the beginning of everything.
Epilogue
Wesley
