Page 17 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Mountain Man

Her phone buzzes on the counter. A notification from Marrow & Light's new website, the one Sage helped her build. Another wholesale order from a boutique in Nelson. Third one this month. The studio in the spare room is almost too small. We've been talking about building an extension in the spring.

We've been talking about a lot of things. Spring. The extension. A trip to Toronto so I can meet Chioma and survive Mango's enthusiasm. Whether the logging road needs regrading before the snow gets worse.

Whether the rocking chair on the porch needs a companion.

My arms circle her waist from behind. My chin rests on top of her head. The kitchen is warm. The table is set. The mountain outside the window is white with fresh snow.

"Hey, Holden?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you for texting back."

Every time. For the rest of my life. Every single time.

"Merry Christmas, Mara."

Her hand covers mine. The dimple appears against my jaw.

Annika's text thread is still on my phone. Third from the top now, below Mara's, below my mother's. I don't look at it every night anymore. Some nights. The hard ones. But most nights, the woman beside me is enough.

More than enough.

She's everything.

Holden and Mara continue on to have such a heart-warming HEA, and I bet you’d love a sneak peek. Don’t worry I’ve got you.