I don’t have a second to process, because Rylee is taking me to the next lamp that lights up. Ren. With a smile, she hands me the next whoopie pie note.
I thought it was the coffee cake that made me sit down in Snow Roast for the morning. Truthfully, it was hearing you welcome everyone in town warmheartedly that kept me in place.
The next light, Harper hands me a note.
I thought it was your need for a storefront that brought us together. Truthfully, it was your shyness that intrigued me.
Griffin.
I thought it was your lack of tools to pull up old flooring that made me want to help you with the renovations. Truthfully, it was not wanting to see you work alone.
Rogan.
I thought it was your bribery with tea sandwiches that would keep me coming back for more. Truthfully, it was your sassy attitude that brought me to my knees.
Reid.
I thought it was my need to get you to run that made me wake up every morning and jog by your side. Truthfully, it was seeing that fresh morning smile that woke me up (and your perfect tits).
I snort and realize everyone who handed me a note is standing behind me, walking with me, making me feel anything but alone. Tears well in my eyes.
Jen.
I thought going out to dinner with you was to share a baked bean sandwich with someone who truly appreciated it. Truthfully, it was me wanting to get to know this girl who fascinated me.
Mrs. Davenport. Wait. What? Mrs. Davenport?
I thought holding your hand was me being a good friend. Truthfully, it was me desperate to touch you in any way I could.
The tears that were welling now cascade down my cheeks, as I cross the street, spotting Mr. and Mrs. Knightly. That’s my undoing. A sob wracks my body. I try to hold it together, but it feels next to impossible as they hand me one of the signs that my dad made. When I look at it, I see the detailed carving of Snow Roast, but I can barely read the note on the back through the blurriness of my eyes.
I thought I was writing letters to a girl I believed was going to be my soul mate. Truthfully, I was falling in love with my best friend, the girl behind the counter at the coffee house.
Another sob escapes me as both Mr. and Mrs. Knightly wrap their arms around me. Leaning in closely, Mrs. Knightly says, “Your mom used to come into The Lobster Landing and say she prayed that one day, you’d find a wonderful boy like one of my sons. It was an honor to hear such beautiful words from her. I hope my son can live up to your mom’s prayers.” She kisses the side of my cheek and guides me to the door of the Parlor.
I reach for the handle and when I look over my shoulder, the Knightly clan is all standing behind me along with Beck, Rylee, and Mrs. Davenport.
“You’re never alone,” Mr. Knightly says. “Never, sweet girl.”
I hold back my tears, give them a soft thank you, then open the door to the Parlor, where I’m met with lit candles all along the floor and . . .
Oh.
My.
God.
My hand flies to my mouth as a snort pops out. Standing in the middle of the Parlor is Brig, dressed in a whoopie pie costume, hands and legs sticking out straight from a large foam circle. His head peeks through a cutout hole, and it is positively the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.
Tears stream down my face while I laugh.
“I told Reid this was a stupid idea,” he mutters, struggling to take off the brown foam circle. After a few swear words, he tosses it to the side, leaving him in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He pushes his hand through his hair, walks up to me, then gently brushes away my tears. “He made me wear the whoopie pie costume since I made him wear armor and ride in on a horse when apologizing to Eve.” I chuckle some more. “I should have known better.”
“It was . . . perfect.”
Taking a deep breath, he says, “Ruthie Girl, I love you.” My lip trembles, my hands shake, and he takes them in his. “After the soul-shattering curse in New Orleans, I honestly thought I’d never find the person for me. I thought I was broken. Date after date went wrong. Every attempt at finding love felt like an impossible feat. Little did I know, my soul mate was standing in front of me every goddamn day, and I was too much of a moron—as my dad likes to say—to realize it. It took a meddling family, a meddling friend, and a meddling town to pull off the blinders and show me what I’ve been missing.” He steps in closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for doubting my feelings for you, for second-guessing them, and for making you feel any less than you are. Because you’re perfect, Ruthie Girl. You’re perfect for me.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek.
Softly he says, “Please tell me I didn’t royally fuck this up, that I still have a fighting chance of proving to you that I’m the man for you.”
He can’t possibly be serious.
“Brig, I—”
“Before you answer,” he says, sounding panicky, “I want you to know, you’re by far the best sex I’ve ever had.” I snort. “You’re the funniest person I know. I’ve missed you these last few days, and I realized very quickly that I need you to constantly test me, tease me, and bring me to my knees. That I love you so goddamn much that it hurts standing in front of you right now, knowing there’s a great possibility that you’ll tell me to fuck off.”
I chuckle some more, shake my head, and drag my hand up his chest to his jaw. He’s adorable. He loves me. He wants my forgiveness.
Forgive, knowing that your man will often mess things up, simply because he's a man. Love, knowing that the man who deserves you will protect your heart and be able to say he’s sorry.
I haven’t thought of my mom’s words about love for years. But somehow, she knew I needed to hear them today.
Forgive.
Love.
“I forgive you. And I love you, Brig Knightly. I have for a very long time and I don’t think that will ever change.”
Epilogue
RUTH
“Ruthie, get over here,” Brig says, calling me from where he sits on his bed.
Ever since the grand apology—that’s what the town is calling it—pictures keep miraculously showing up in the town paper. We’ve been plastered all over as the new “it” couple. Brig’s soaking it up, rubbing it in his brothers’ faces. Man-child. Adorable though.
I’ve stayed at Brig’s apartment to focus on finalizing the last-minute needs of the Parlor. Brig might have finished the renovations with Rogan, but there was still a lot to do before opening day . . . today.
From the bathroom, I give myself one last look in the mirror and then walk over to him. I chose a yellow sundress for the occasion with brown open-toe sandals. My hair is styled around my shoulders in waves, and I applied extra makeup today, knowing there would be press at the grand opening.
Brig glances up from his phone and his eyes turn to molten lava when he takes me in. It’s one of my favorite things about Brig, now that he freely expresses himself. I love his facial expressions, especially when I walk into a room. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
“Ruthie . . . hell, you look gorgeous.” He extends his hand to me and I take it, letting him spin me onto his lap where he presses his lips against my neck. “God, you smell amazing.” One of his hands starts to travel up my thigh, but I quickly swat at it.