When in December (Home Haven #1)

Epilogue

Poppy

I loved the sounds that came with a home. There were so many of them. The distant sound of laughter filling up a room. Music drifting from the kitchen, where a couple might find themselves dancing over the tiles.

Today, there was the sound of champagne glasses clinking together like the most beautiful chimes.

“Congratulations.” Alison approached me, tapping her tall glass against mine one more time. “You earned it.”

I basked in Alison’s words, feeling a surge of gratitude for the friends that surrounded me on this warm evening that stuck to my skin like honey.

The soft rustle of the trees in the gentle breeze provided a soothing backdrop to the joyful chatter. As the sky darkened into shades of deep indigo, the stars twinkled above us like little diamonds scattered across velvet.

I took a sip of champagne, savoring the effervescent bubbles that danced on my tongue. The cabin seemed to come alive with light, casting a renewed and cozy radiance over our little gathering. I caught snippets of conversations and laughter around me, feeling a sense of contentment settle in my chest as I celebrated myself for the first time in my life.

At Aaron’s insistence.

A month ago, following a variety of design projects, both in the city with senior interior designers as well as small-budget productions on my own no one else wanted to take outside of the city, I’d gained recognition for my work on the cabin. Maybe it was with that newfound confidence that I’d scheduled a meeting with Michelle.

“One of the things I realized the most when working on the house was how much I missed doing the renovation and seeing everything come together. I love designing—of course I do, as I’ve been here for nearly three years now,” I told Michelle, sitting across from her in her office, much calmer and at peace than I had been the previous year. “But I like to see my project through from the moment I get the vision of how everything should look to extensive remodel rather than just choosing the color scheme and shaping.”

Michelle listened intently as I spoke, appearing thoughtful and calculating behind her glasses. She nodded slowly, considering my words.

“I see where you’re coming from,” she finally said, tapping her pen against the notebook in front of her. “You have a real passion for the hands-on aspect of design, don’t you?”

I nodded eagerly, excitement building within me just from talking about it. It was amazing, considering how many times I’d already gone over everything with Aaron at home in our little cabin in the woods.

This was my chance to finally step into a role that resonated with my creative spirit.

“Exactly,” I replied. “I want to be more involved in the entire process—from the initial design concept to the finishing touches. I believe there’s a niche in the market for clients who want a more personalized and hands-on approach to their home transformations. I want to bring my visions to life in a way only I can.”

At the end of my presentation, a smile tugged at the corners of Michelle’s lips as she leaned back in her chair, regarding me with a newfound respect. “What kind of title do you think that position would have?”

My business card still read Poppy Owens , but instead of junior interior designer , my title was Home Haven renovation specialist.

I still did the design and some event work when appropriate, but now, I had the job I’d always dreamed of—hands-on as I brought my visions to life.

I looked around the outside of the cabin, scattered with friends and family. My parents were talking loudly with Aaron’s sister by the firepit, where Liana and Gavin argued over whose marshmallow had come out better. Barrett was leaning against a wall, talking with one of our newest hires from Home Haven, who wanted to know more about the upcoming project of redesigning his homestead rescue later this summer, headed by me, which was a huge honor. And responsibility.

Hannah was surely around here somewhere, partaking in a glass of champagne, or set to arrive at any minute.

I glanced around one more time as arms snaked around my waist.

“What’s going on inside that head?” Aaron hummed in my ear.

Oz slipped by my legs, rushing into the yard before turning back to look at us.

It was as if he was asking, Are you coming?

“All good things,” I said.

“Dangerous. What’s next? Flower beds next spring? Redoing the entryway how you wanted with the glazed front window was last month. What’s going to happen in the fall? A garden so you can stop complaining about how far away the grocery store is?”

“How did you know about that?” I shook my head as I looked at him accusingly.

The corners of Aaron’s lips quirked as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I have my ways,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer against his solid frame.

“I know you, Poppy Owens,” Aaron said, his tone playful yet tinged with something more intimate. “And I know that your creativity knows no bounds. You’ve already worked wonders with this home of ours. Who knows what magic you’ll conjure up next?”

His words stirred something within me, a fire of determination and excitement that blazed brightly in my chest.

With him by my side, I felt invincible, ready to take on any challenge that came our way.

He ran a thumb over my cheek before threading his hand through my hair. When he leaned in close, my eyes closed, and I felt the way his breath touched my lips before he did.

His mouth was warm against mine, a soft and gentle pressure that sent sparks dancing across my skin.

Surrounded by laughter and music, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the fairy lights strung up around the cabin, illuminating his features, casting shadows and highlights that made him look almost ethereal, it was as if everything had aligned perfectly at last.

All the pieces of my life falling into place with us at the center.

“So, is this it? When are you going to be mine, Poppy Owens?”

I grinned. The answer was so clear, so obvious.

The dog started barking, rushing to Barrett, nearly sending him straight over the stone wall and into the yard. The crowd we’d asked to join us for a beautiful summer night chattered with love and joy. The fire crackled as it put out heat.

And Aaron looked at me like I was the person he’d been looking for, for years. But I’d make sure to tell him, I had known it first.

I was his.

I was home.

“I already am.”