Three months later, Sweet Rides opens for business. With my insurance money and the backing of our new lead investor, we're able to secure a larger location in the trendier downtown area.

One side of the store is cycles, accessories, apparel, and a repair shop. The other is all candy all the time. There's a kitchen in the back, with new, industrial-grade equipment, but there are no living quarters attached.

Instead, we've taken a small house on the edge of town. Blake's parents are coming to visit in a few weeks, but he's promised me they won't mention grand-kids yet—thank God. At least not until we've proven ourselves with a dog.

We have new employees, as well, which gives us both more time to focus on our passions: chocolate, bicycles, and each other.

I'm in the middle of drizzling creamy white glaze over a batch of dark chocolate truffles with cherry centers, and Blake is taking a break from his own work to bother me.

"Oh my God... What do you call these?" he asks, eating one with a level of enjoyment that borders on obscenity.

"Cherry poppers," I say.

He chokes.

"Not really. They're called 'truffles,' dumb-ass."

When he can breathe again, he comes and stands behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and slipping his hands under the front of my apron.

"Maybe you'll wear this for me sometime," he says.

"I'm wearing it now."

"Yeah, but you have other clothes on, too."

Now it's my turn to choke.

"Fuck's sake, Blake, we're at work. What if our top investor walks in on us?"

"She's into it," he says, shrugging.

He's right, unfortunately. Apparently, freelance game design can pay quite well, and Kate was ready and willing to jump into the world of small business investment when the opportunity presented.

She still works in the store, too. Part of the deal was that we had to let her incorporate her passion for cosplay, and she gets to handle marketing. At the moment, she's organizing a charity thing where we ride bikes through town while dressed as anime characters and sell candy for some cause or other.

I don't get it, but Blake is excited about the idea, and as long as it means I get to keep doing what I love, I don't care.

I chase him back to his side of the store and get back to work.

That night, after we've had our fun and I'm lying helpless with exhaustion in his arms, he kisses me and smiles against my lips.

"I have something for you," he says. "Wait here."

He gets up and goes to his dresser.

"If it's an apron, I'll kill you with it," I threaten, sitting up.

"It's not an apron, I promise. Although I think I know what I want for my birthday."

"It's not my birthday," I say, frowning.

"I know. I can't wait that long."

He comes back holding a package.

"I had to send it away to a professional. Did you know that archival restoration is a thing? I didn't." He hands it to me. "Well, go on."

I tear off the wrapping. There are two items inside. One is a brand new, leather-bound book with creamy blank pages. The other is a plain, white box.

I lift the lid. Inside, encased in a plastic sleeve, is my grandmother's journal. The edges are slightly scorched, and the cover is torn, but I recognize it nonetheless.

"I asked the fire chief to look for it," Blake explains. "He's... a friend from high school. He said the glass case it was in protected it a little, at least kept off some of the ash and soot. The restorer did the rest. I mean, there's some damage, but—"

He's been speaking fast, obviously nervous. I look up, and he stops when he sees the tears tracking down my face.

His own pinches with concern. "Is it okay? I mean, did I—"

Carefully, I set the box aside. Then I throw my arms around him and hold on.

"Thank you," I say when I can, and wipe my eyes. "What's the blank one for, though?"

"That's for you," he says, pushing me away far enough to see my face. "So you can start your own journal. I mean, I know you have your portfolios, and your website and everything. But I thought it would nice if you carried on the tradition. If you want," he finishes, uncertainly.

I smile and pull him into a kiss.

"I want," I say.

And damn it to hell, but I'm pretty sure I owe him that apron thing now.

~The End~

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A/N - Dear reader, thank you for checking out my story! I hope you enjoyed Blake and Aaron's little tale. Votes and comments are always appreciated if you'd like to leave one, and if you enjoyed this story, check out my profile for more. 💖💖💖     

**[Keep reading for the bonus chapter😉]**