Page 24 of Pumpkins & Promises

Emily settles beside me on the porch swing, tucking her feet under her. She's wearing my blue sweater again, and I'm starting to think I should just officially transfer ownership of half my wardrobe.

"Okay," she says, eyeing the package. "What's the occasion again?"

"New beginnings. Fresh starts. The end of fake relationships and the beginning of real ones."

"That's a lot of occasions for one gift."

"It's a very versatile gift."

Emily carefully unwraps the paper, revealing a leather-bound journal with "Pumpkins & Promises" embossed in gold on the cover.

"Wesley..." She runs her fingers over the lettering. "It's beautiful."

"Open it."

She opens to the first page, where I've written in my careful handwriting: "Chapter One — Let's do this for real."

Emily looks up at me, her eyes bright. "Chapter One?"

"I figured if we're starting over, we might as well start at the beginning. Write our own story this time."

"Our story?"

"The real one. Not the one my agent wants to package and sell, not the one that looks good on social media. Just ours."

Emily flips through the blank pages, and I can see her mind already working. "What kind of story are we writing?"

"I don't know yet. That's what makes it interesting." I take her hand, intertwining our fingers. "But I'm thinking it involves a lot of apple cider donuts and terrible pumpkin carving and Sunday dinners with your family."

"Sounds pretty ordinary."

"The best stories usually are."

Emily leans against my shoulder, the journal open in her lap. "So where do we start?"

"Right here," I say, kissing the top of her head. "Right now. Chapter One of whatever comes next."

She tilts her face up to look at me. "I love you, Wesley Thorne."

"I love you too, Emily Holloway."

"Even if I keep stealing your sweaters?"

"Especially because you keep stealing my sweaters."

As the snow continues to fall around us and the lights from the farmhouse windows cast warm squares of yellow on the white ground, Emily picks up a pen from the porch table and writes on the first page of our journal:

Chapter One: The day Wesley decided to stay, and Emily decided to let him.

"Good start?" she asks.

"Perfect start," I agree.

And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not worried about what the critics will think or whether the story will sell or what comes after the last page.

I'm just excited to see what we write next.