Page 88 of Mistletoe & Magic
“I will.”
I tuck the papers under my arm and walk out, my steps lighter.
On the drive home, I crank up the heat and breathe easier. The past is finally settled. No more wondering, no more waiting. No more watching my little girl get crushed and then scared when her mom shows up and is angry that she is even there, as if that was somehow Junie’s fault. The whole situation is sad. And I have to think about how I’m going to explain it to Junie in a way that makes sense to her at this time.
When I get back to Wisteria Cove, I am going to keep working on that library until it is perfect.
Because the next step is proving to Ivy that I am all in for her, for Junie, for the life we deserve.
And I will not waste this second chance.
By the time I pull into the drive, the sky is streaked with pink and gold. My headlights sweep over the porch, and I see the boxes stacked there.
I kill the engine and climb out, boots crunching on gravel. There are three big boxes labeledBOOKS. FRAGILE.And one thinner box with my name on it.
I haul the boxes inside, the cardboard biting into my palms, and set them down in the middle of the empty office. The room still smells faintly of fresh paint. The bay windows catch the last light, making the whole space look soft and warm.
The thin package catches my eye. I crouch, tear the tape open carefully, and pull out the canvas print.
It’s the photo from the tree farm with Ivy and Junie, all of us grinning, Junie between us, Ivy smiling and leaning into me. It hits me square in the chest, so hard I have to sit back on my heels.
I love this picture.
I can already see it hanging on the wall, right above a cozy reading chair. I want her to walk in here and feel like she belongs, like she is home.
Headlights sweep across the yard outside, pulling me from my thoughts. A moment later, Willa and Tate come up the porch carrying more boxes.
“Delivery service,” Tate calls as they step inside.
“Donna had these shipped straight from her publisher,” Willa says, setting her box down. “She called me and said, ‘Make sure Remy has these tonight. We’re not letting him half-ass this.’”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “She never does anything halfway. And I love that she has connections to make this happen.”
Willa steps into the office and takes it in, her eyes going wide. “Remy… this is perfect.”
“Not yet,” I say, glancing around at the empty shelves we built last night. “But it will be. I want her to have everything.”
Tate leans against the doorway, grinning. “Hell of a gesture. This is going to blow her away.”
“I need it to,” I admit. “I need her to see I’m not just saying I’m sorry. I’m proving it.”
Willa sets a hand on my arm, her smile warm. “Then let’s make it perfect. I’ll help you unpack. Tate can put together the chair you bought.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
She glances at me as she kneels to open a box. “You want me to get her out here tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice low but steady. “If she won’t come for me, maybe she’ll come for you or for Junie.”
Willa’s smile turns knowing. “She’ll come. She’s been miserable without you, you know. It sucks having you two on the outs. Everyone in town knows you’re meant to be together. You just have to get it together.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’m trying.”
“Good,” Willa says, handing me a stack of books.
We work until the sky goes dark and the moonlight streams through the bay windows. Willa stacks books by color, Tate curses softly as he fights with the Allen wrench, and I hang the canvas photo on the far wall.
When I step back to look at it, my throat tightens. It already feels like Ivy’s room. Like Junie’s room. Likeours.
