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“I cried when I read page one hundred and twelve.” Clara, one of our neighbors, said, sliding her copy toward me to sign. “And again at the end, but for different reasons.”

“I read it in one sitting.” The next person in line behind her said. “My husband found me at two in the morning on the couch, ugly crying.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said, signing her book.

“Don’t be. He read it next, and he ugly cried too,” she said, laughing.

Sophie appeared at my elbow, her hair still in two braids I’d done that morning, wearing a shirt that said My Mom-ber is a famous author. Everett had clearly had it custom-printed.

“This is my Mom-ber’s book.” She told the next person in line. “She wrote it about…”

“Sophie,” I said, looking at her.

“About love.” Sophie finished, grinning at me. “She wrote it about love, and she only mentioned dinosaurs once!”

The women in line laughed, and Sophie ran over to where Everett stood watching me. I signed for two more hours; my hand had cramped hours ago, but Ms. Shelly kept appearing with cups of tea and a ton of encouragement.

Every once in a while I’d glance up and catch Everett watching me from the back of the store. Dressed in a blue button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, he leaned against the biography section shelves and expressed love while watching the person he loved become who they were meant to be. My mom sat beside him in her wheelchair, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, waving and smiling at me every chance she had.

He caught me looking at him and snapped a photo with his phone, then smiled and mouthed bestseller.

I shook my head and mouthed back, shut up.

He grinned at me, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and whispered something to my mom while they both continued to watch my dreams come true.

October - One Year Later

The scent of pumpkin spice filled the kitchen. Margaret had been trying to perfect a cookie recipe since August. We’d spent hours on the phone trying to modify it. I stood in the kitchen, watching the chaos unfold. Sophie sat at the table with two of her school friends, teaching them how to do Rebecca’s cookie decorating technique that Margaret taught her last spring after Sophie had found Rebecca’s recipe book in the box she still kept in her closet.

“No, you need to let it dry first, then you fill it in. That was how my mom did it. Well, my first mom.” Sophie said.

Richard was in the living room, helping Everett arrange the massive pumpkin and gourd display we had delivered earlier in the week. It took up the entire front window. They’d been at it for almost an hour. Richard kept insisting that they arrange the pumpkins by size, but Everett said that it didn’t matter for a Halloween display, which shocked me.

“How are you okay with this? You love order.” Richard said, frowning.

“Well, I married a woman who puts glitter in the air vents to make my daughter happy when the heat turns on. You could say my standards have shifted.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not married yet,” I called from the doorway.

Everett looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. He was wearing a cable-knit sweater with a ghost on it, an early Halloween present from Sophie, and a pair of jeans. He looked so different from the man I first met last year.

“Three weeks,” he said. “Three weeks until you’re mine.”

He walked over to me and pulled me against him, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

We were getting married on Thanksgiving. We had discussed it numerous times. I wasn’t sure a wedding held on a holiday weekend was the best idea until one night as we lay in bed, Everett told me the reason he wanted to get married then. He wanted to begin the season of gratitude as my husband, which made me cry.

Everett found me a while later in his study, quickly replying to an email before I went back to the kitchen to rejoin Margaret and Sophie. He came in and wrapped his arms around me.

“Are you good?” he questioned.

“So good,” I said, meeting his eyes.

“How is the display coming?” I questioned taking his hand and threading our fingers together, bringing his knuckles to my lips.

“I think we’re about done. You know, I was thinking you’re going to be a terrible wife. You leave glitter everywhere, leave your manuscripts open to the dirtiest scenes on purpose to tease me, and you’ve now stolen my study.”

I looked up at him, completely shocked.