Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I close my eyes as I let all of this sink in. “Is that how you convinced him to fly off without me?”
She laughs. “Coop is pretty easy to persuade when you have the right dirt on him.”
“What kind of dirt do you have on Cooper Heyes?”
“Unimportant.”
She’s right, and I let out a sigh of contentment as I hold her against me. I don’t want to think about Coop right now. I want to think about her. “Bill really knew us better than we knew ourselves, didn’t he?” I say.
“I’m sad to think he had so many regrets, but he did have his own family. It just didn’t look like they usually do. I feel bad that we didn’t make things easier on him; you and I were clearly difficult children.”
I press my lips to her neck, enjoying the fact that I can do this without needing someone around to witness. In fact, I would rather not have a witness ever again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was a great child.” Never mind that the guys think I tend to lose all common sense when I’m around Georgie. Life is more fun with Georgie. It always has been. “You were the weird stray who thought working in a bakery was a fun way to spend your summer vacations.”
Leaning into my kisses for a moment, Georgie twists in my arms and then places her hand on my cheek. “I did think that was fun. But I also think Bill was right, and I always liked you more than I liked the bakery. I still do.”
I capture her mouth again, letting the warmth of her kiss seep into me and dispel the last of my fears. Uncle Bill was right, and we’re so much better together. Georgie seems to agree, wrapping her arms around my neck and rising up on her toes to meet my height. I can’t get her close enough, and I pick her up as I continue kissing her and start moving up the sand. This beach is fairly private, but not private enough.
My house is right across the street, and I’ve got a wife to love in every way I can.
Epilogue
Georgie
“Bakers, you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep these renovations a secret, and I am so excited to finally unveil the new Kingston’s Bakery!” I grin wide at the camera, trying not to let my panic show.
It’s not so much the opinions of my viewers that worry me but those of the man whose happiness matters more to me than anything. If he doesn’t like the new look to the bakery, it might devastate me. I would have preferred to do the reveal off camera, but after the way King took the country by storm when the “Lane versus King” episode aired, the network made me an offer that was too good to refuse.
They paid for all of the renovations in exchange for moving Home Baked to here in Willow Cove. As it turns out, most of the viewers were outraged when Lane went off book and dumped me, and there was even a petition at one point to bring me back and get rid of Lane. After the way he acted when he showed up to get me back, the network fired him quickly.
He’ll be fine. He still has his bakery chain, though I did some digging and discovered his sales are way down since I left. I’ve tried to feel sorry for him, but I can’t.
When the network first asked if I would come back to New York to save the show, I told them no even though King tried to change my mind. It was only when they offered to move the show to South Carolina so I could stay at home that I agreed, and it has been a wild six months.
The renovations have all happened over the last few weeks of November and December, and contractually I couldn’t tell anyone about what was happening inside until this big reveal. Keeping it all a secret has quite possibly been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My husband has a knack for convincing me to do anything he wants, and he nearly got me to spill the beans a time or two with his skills of persuasion.
I don’t know where that man learned to kiss, but he’s dangerous.
I move to the door, which is decked out in Christmas lights and holly, and send another smile to the camera. “Of course, I can’t do this without my main man.” I hold out my hand, which is King’s cue to join me in the shot. We had to practice this part half a dozen times this morning because he kept ignoring the stage direction to kiss my cheek and kept going for a kiss that is definitely not appropriate for family television.
Thankfully, he does as he was told this time and presses his lips to my cheek. But the look in his eyes tells me just how much he would rather go with his version than keep things PG.
Knowing I’m blushing bright red, I give him a quick scolding scowl and then turn to the camera again. “As you know, King’s uncle is the one who started Kingston’s and taught me everything I know, so I wanted to make sure I honored his memory. Our family has suffered a lot of loss over the years, but the best part about good food is the memories that come with it.” I turn to King. “Are you ready to see the new Kingston’s?”
I’m not sure I’m ready, but King nods and threads his fingers through mine. “I trust you,” he whispers.
“I love you,” I whisper back.
After making sure the camera crew is ready to go, I push open the bakery door and flip on the lights.
Though the lobby is decorated for Christmas, I tried to keep it subtle so King—and my viewers—could still see the full scope of the new bakery. The walls, once a dark and almost gloomy green, are now a cheery off-white that makes the whole place feel brighter. The haphazard metal tables and booths have been replaced by tall round tables and a few long wood tables for bigger groups, and there’s a bar-height counter running along the windows so customers can enjoy buttery pastries with a view of the ocean. String lights crisscross overhead, and the menu still has a handwritten chalkboard feel but is now digital so it’s easy to change. Beck did an amazing job with these renovations, and the bakery feels even more like home than it did before.
I know the instant King sees the photos because his arms wrap around me from behind, his hold tighter than it needs to be.
The wall of photos, which before had been an unorganized assortment taped to the wall, is now a collection of framed pictures strung up along the whole upper edge of the walls. I printed some of them bigger, like the one of me when I was thirteen or fourteen and getting my first taste of working in the kitchen with Bill. I enlarged the one of King and Bill with their surfboards as well. My favorite picture is one I hadn’t even realized existed until I found it tucked in the back of a drawer in the office, and that one has its own spot behind the front counter.
“I wanted to make sure everyone knows how special Kingston’s is,” I say, as much to King as to the camera. “This bakery is about family and always has been, and I hope everyone who comes here can feel that.”
The photo is of the day the bakery first opened. Bill is standing in front of the door, a wide grin on his face. Next to him, his younger brother has an arm around his pretty wife, who holds a toddler no older than two. King. Below the photo is a brief history of Uncle Bill’s journey to opening his bakery, from a small-town boy who started baking the family bread after his parents died, to the man who gave me the world when he agreed to let a scrawny thirteen-year-old spend her summers working instead of playing on the beach.
“No matter where you are or what your family looks like,” I say to the camera, though it’s harder to get the words out because I can feel King’s emotions overflowing as his hold grows even tighter, “there’s something special about the kitchen. It’s a gathering place, and no one has ever been sad when sharing pastries with the people they love. Am I right?”
“I always love when you share your snickerdoodles,” King pipes in, right on cue. He adds a kiss to my neck, which was not part of the script, but I’ll allow it.
“That’s because you’re terrible at making them yourself,” I say with a laugh. “And if you’re ever in the kitchen, I’m always in danger of getting a faceful of cake batter and an impossible mess to clean up.”
He shrugs, turning his gaze to the camera. I hope he winks and sends women everywhere swooning, but I can’t see him. “What can I say? There are few things more attractive than Georgie in a kitchen. She’s almost as irresistible as her baking.”
I laugh. “Speaking of baking, I can’t wait to show you my new kitchen. It is absolutely gorgeous!”
By the time filming is done and the bakery is locked up for the day, I want nothing more than to head home and crash. But the bakery reveal was not the only thing I planned for today, so instead of following King to his truck, I tug him farther down the boardwalk. “I have a surprise for you,” I explain.
“I like surprises better when they’re at home.”
“You’ll like this one.” At least, I hope he will.
