Page 108 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
It undid her a little, in the best possible way.
Maybe the best love stories weren’t the ones where someone came to the rescue, but the ones where someone held your hand and said,You’re already everything. Max had done that, over and over, in ways both loud and quiet. In ways Ella could finally believe.
She smiled through the tears that suddenly sprang up, pressing her forehead to Max’s. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s write the next chapter.”
And she meant it. Because she knew now that she wasn’t just part of a love story, she was someone’s favorite one.
Max grinned and swept a strand of hair from Ella’s forehead. “And the one after that, and the one after that until the pile is unending.” They shared another kiss against the kitchen counter before Max grabbed her lunch. “Sonya’s husband is hosting a happy hour at Dirty Little Secret on Friday for her birthday. What’s your late afternoon look like?” She slid the strap of her attaché onto her shoulder.
“Totally free. I can make it. Oh, I want to try their pear martini.”
“Perfect. Martinis, it is. I gotta hurry because I have an eight-thirty, but I’ll grab your dry cleaning on my way home. I love you. Text me and tell me all about Doug’s.”
“You got it, and I love you, too.” Ella watched, coffee in hand, as the love of her life headed for the door. She had the whole day stretched in front of her, and her heart overflowed.
Maybe it wasn’t fate or magic or even perfect timing that brought her here to Max. Maybe it was something better—two people who chose each other again and again, when one obstacle after another was tossed onto their path.
They never gave up. They understood that love wasn’t perfect.
It wasn’t just the swoonworthy moments, but the quiet ones, too. The morning coffees and shared routines, the learning, the laughter, the softness of being truly known. If this were a romance novel, Ella thought, this would be the part where the reader closes the book with a smile, knowing that the best love stories don’t end on the last page. They just keep going.
Epilogue
One Year Later
The house looked gorgeous.After a year of hard work, Max honestly couldn’t believe they’d made it to the finish line in advance of the housewarming party. The property, with its colorful garden and quiet, open stretch of land in the back, felt like something out of a dream. The house itself was two stories of rustic charm. Weathered wood siding, deep front porch, and wide windows that let the light pour in. It made sleeping in on weekends an exercise in joy. Those gorgeous windows had been at the top of Max’s must-have list when searching for a house that would be their first purchase together. Inside, it was all clean lines and high-end finishes: warm oak floors, a chef’s kitchen with tall green cabinets and gold hardware, picked out by Ella, and a fireplace framed in stone they’d chosen together. Every room felt intentional, like it knew it was meant to be loved.
Max’s condo had been wonderful to her during the years she spent there, meeting her every need. But it wasn’t just her anymore, and now she knew with certainty that it never wouldbe again. That meant they’d need a space that was for both of them, that reflected both of their needs and style. Ella now had her own office for design that looked out over the expansive yard that backed up to a greenbelt full of towering trees, winding trails, and the kind of quiet that made space for creativity to bloom.
“I’m here,” her mom’s voice said, floating in from the entryway. “I let myself in because it’s a party. Your father will follow me later.” The guests weren’t set to arrive for another half hour, but her mother would want to play deputy hostess, so, of course, she’d arrived early.
“Come on in!” She heard Ella say cheerfully from the other room. In the past year, the two of them had inched closer and closer until they’d become tighter than peas and carrots. Max was 100 percent confident that her mother preferred Ella to most any other human, a good balance of sunshine to her no-nonsense outlook, which she had to admit had softened considerably since her bout with cancer.
“I brought homemade sweet rolls. They’re in the warming basket you got me.”
“I love mine,” Ella said. “Isn’t it the best?”
“Science is my passion, and when you combine it with cooking, I’m a happy woman,” Mayumi said. “Is my daughter being good?”
“She’s been wonderful. She just installed the cutest little wishing well in the back. Running water and all. She can pretty much do anything around the house.”
Max smiled as she strolled into the room. “Hear that, Mom? I’m handy.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and accepted the bread. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“No, no. You always bring something. Always,” she said emphatically, as if Max needed to memorize the directive for thefuture. Okay, some things hadn’t changed. She relaxed into a smile. “But you always do, because you are smart and kind.”
“Nice save,” she told her mom.
An hour later, the house was christened by the arrival of friends and loved ones. Sonya shared anonymous stories from the mediation trenches in the open kitchen as she poured and served the batch cocktail she had brought with her, her gift to the party. Stevie and Olive arrived looking like an adorably happy couple. Max caught them stealing a kiss near the hors d’oeuvres table. Wasn’t it interesting how it had all worked out? Olive had recently moved into Stevie’s place and was now their second host each week. The four of them had each found their person at the Read It and Weep Book Club, the place you apparently went for singles matches.
“Everyone came,” Ella said with a grin, pressing her shoulder against Max’s. “And I think this counts as Rachel’s third date with Amanda.” Max followed Ella’s gaze to the two strolling through the living space hand in hand.
“The cheeseball with the cranberries is outta this world,” Doug said, puttering by with a rare grin on his face.
“Glad you like it,” Max told him, though he hadn’t waited for a response.
According to Ella, the shop had been overrun with customers this week when a slew of new romances were released. Doug’s Books was better than ever.
Ella exhaled. “They all seem happy and talkative and have food and drinks. I think that means we can relax and take it all in.”
