Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“I know.” Finn grinned crookedly. “And let me tell you that finding something for the bookseller who insists he already has everything he wants is hard.”
“Well, maybe I do want something hard. Later,” I whispered as I opened the box. Inside was an ornate-looking object, and I carefully withdrew it so I could look closer. “An hourglass?”
“Flip it over,” Finn urged, expression both boyish and endearing. “See? You’ve got more time than you thought.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” It was the perfect present from the perfect guy for me. I turned it over again in my hands, a tangible reminder of everything I’d gained in the last few months. “I love it. And you were right—it is something I didn’t have but needed.”
“I can think of something else you don’t have yet…” My mother breezed over, her ever-present matchmaking gleam sparkling in her eyes.
“Mother.” I gave her a stern look.
“I’m just saying—”
“We’ll get there.” Finn interrupted her with a smile and a quick hug.
“We will.” I really did believe that now. With each passing week and month, I became a little more secure in my belief that this was the real deal, and that I was going to be around to see it bloom. I—we—had the time.
“Well, good. Don’t keep us waiting too long.” Tone playful, she wagged a finger at us, then waved us back into the main area of the wine bar. “Oh, here comes the cake!”
And here it was, the moment I’d been both anticipating and dreading the entire last year. As everyone sang to me, a certain sense of gravitas hit me. I was truly forty-three, and while it might have seemed fanciful, it did feel like a curse had been broken. I was not my father. As Finn and my mother and, more recently, my lovely therapist, kept telling me, I was more than my family medical history. This was my life and my chance to write a different ending, one that didn’t cut off prematurely in the second act. And as I blew out the candle, I knew precisely what I was wishing for.
“Is that real sugar and buttercream?” Finn joked as someone handed me a knife to start slicing.
“Yes, from a fancy new bakery over in Colebury.” I’d let my mother do the ordering, but I certainly intended to sample the creation. “Looks worth every calorie.”
“You’ll work it off later,” Finn said in a low voice with a wicked grin.
“Or you will.” Laughing at how his eyes widened, I handed out slices of cake and tried not to daydream too much about when I could finally get Finn right where I wanted him.
“Did you make a wish?” he asked me a few minutes later when we each had our pieces and had found a cozy corner to ourselves.
“I did.”
“Gonna tell me what it was for?” He leaned in closer, smelling like sugar and outdoors and Finn.
“Nope.” I smirked as I snagged a bite of chocolate buttercream off my fork with my tongue.
“Hey!” Half laughing, half indignant, Finn set his cake aside. “How can I make it come true if you don’t tell me?”
“You already have.”
Watching him smile was all the confirmation I needed that I’d wished for the right thing. More years. More Vermont. More V and V. More farm. More Finn. Especially that. I had a lot of living left to do and the perfect person to do it with.
T H E
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