We slide into a big corner booth. Robbie’s eyes are wide, taking it all in—the checkered floors, the vintage jukebox, the blackboard menu written in chalk. But mostly he’s watching the way people greet Kaleb. The cook leans out from the pass-through to wave. Mr. Peplinska brings over a fresh pot of coffee himself, sets it down with three mugs and a wink.
“Morning, boys. Kaleb treating you right?”
Robbie grins. “Veryright.”
Mr. Peplinska pats Kaleb’s shoulder as he passes. “Good man.”
I feel it swell in my chest—pride, warm and bright. Not just because he’s mine, but because the whole town knows it too. They respect him. Love him even. He’s theirs, and now he’s letting me be part of that.
Robbie leans close once Mr. Peplinska walks away. “Okay. Everyone here adores him. Like, genuinely. That’s rare.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “He’s… he’s the real thing, Robbie.”
He studies my face. “You’re glowing. Like, full-on heart-eyes glowing.”
I bite my lip. I glance toward the counter where Kaleb’s laughing at something the cook said, sleeves rolled up, forearms corded and strong. My heart squeezes so hard it hurts.
“I think…” I drop my voice even lower. “I think he might be the one. Like… Forever.TheForever.”
Robbie’s eyes go huge. Then soft. He almost can’t speak the words, but manages to without totally losing it…
“Oh my god, Taron,” Robbie squeals, doing his best to keep his voice down but failing.
“But…” I swallow. “He’d never leave here. This place, these woods, this life, it’s him. And I… I don’t know if I can ask him togive that up. Or if I can give up everything I’ve built in the city. My writing career, my apartment, my… everything.”
Robbie squeezes my hands tighter. “Sweetie. Look around.”
I do. The diner’s warm, humming with chatter and clinking plates. Kaleb’s still at the counter, carrying three heavy plates stacked with pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns. People are smiling at him, thanking him, slapping his back like he’s family.
“Look at him,” Robbie says quietly. “Look at how they love him. Look at how he belongs. And look at you… when you’re with him. You’re not just visiting anymore. You’re home.”
My throat tightens. I know where Robbie is going with this and the truth is that I kinda feel it too, deep down.
“The answer’s obvious,” Robbie whispers. “It’s staring you right in the face. You don’t have to drag him to the city. You can build something here. With him. Your writing doesn’t need skyscrapers. It needs quiet. Space. It needs this big, handsome Daddy with those spank-paddles for hands!”
“Ha!” I laugh.
“I’m being serious though,” Robbie grins. “And honestly? I’ve never seen you this happy. Not even close.”
I glance back at Kaleb. He’s close now, plates balanced like it’s nothing, that small proud smile tugging at his mouth when he sees us watching.
My heart says yes before my brain can catch up.
Yes.
To him. To this. To forever.
Robbie squeals—quiet, excited—and we grab each other’s hands across the table, bouncing a little in the booth like teenagers.
Kaleb sets the plates down, slides in beside me. “What did I miss?”
I turn to him, eyes shining, and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Just…happy.”
He looks at me a long moment—searching, soft—then kisses my temple.
“Me too, baby boy.”