Page 57 of The Bear's Spicy Mate

Percy nodded solemnly, accepting the small basket she handed him. They had practiced this—him gathering herbs from the little kitchen garden Kirk had planted just for their videos, naming each one as he placed it in the basket.

Isla set up her camera, positioning it to capture the greenhouse in the background—the lush greenery, the vibrant chilies in various stages of ripeness, the sunlight filtering through the glass above.

“Ready?” she asked, finger hovering over the record button.

Percy straightened his shoulders and nodded. Isla pressed record.

“Hi, I’m Isla Marshall, and this isGrown With Care, a new series celebrating the people who feed us.”

Percy moved into frame right on cue, basket in hand. “And I’m Percy! I’m going to show you the herbs we use in the kitchen!”

There was no denying her son had blossomed here, putting down roots as surely as the plants surrounding them.

They moved through the segment smoothly—Percy naming each herb as he picked it, explaining which dishes they were used in at the restaurant. When Kirk appeared briefly to show viewers his prized chilies, the easy way he and Percy interacted on camera felt natural, unforced. This wasn’t a performance. It was simply their life now.

After finishing the recording, Isla uploaded the video and her written piece, then hesitated before pressing publish. This was it—the moment she officially changed direction. The moment she stepped away from the persona that had defined her career for so long.

She clicked publish.

For a few moments, she simply stared at the screen, watching as the first notifications began to appear. Then, deliberately, she closed her laptop. Whatever the response, it could wait. Today wasn’t about metrics or engagement or comments.

“Did it work?” Kirk asked, coming to stand behind her chair. His hands rested gently on her shoulders, warm and grounding.

“It’s up,” she said, leaning back against him. “We’ll see.”

“They’ll love it. They’ll feel that it matters,” he said with quiet certainty. “Because it does.”

Isla covered one of his hands with her own, savoring the simple contact. “Have you and Percy finished your big project?”

Kirk smiled. “Almost. Come see.”

She followed him to the back of the greenhouse, where Percy kneeled in the soft soil, carefully making small depressions with his finger.

“We’re planting the new hybrid,” Percy explained importantly. “Kirk says they’ll be sweet first, then spicy after, like a surprise.”

“That sounds perfect,” Isla said, kneeling beside them in the dirt. She held out her hand, and Kirk placed a small seed in her palm—dark and unassuming, holding so much promise.

“Want to do the honors?” Kirk asked.

Isla nodded, pressing the seed into the soil Percy had prepared. Her fingers lingered in the warm earth, feelingits richness, its promise. She wasn’t just observing anymore, writing about what others created.

She was part of the growing now.

Her phone chimed from her pocket—probably notifications from the new post. But for once, she felt no urgent need to check. The metrics, the comments, the reactions—they would all still be there later.

Right now, what mattered was the soil beneath her fingers, Percy’s concentrated expression as he carefully watered the newly planted seed, and Kirk’s solid presence beside her. What mattered was this life they were building together, seed by seed, day by day.

Watching Kirk guide Percy’s hands as they covered another seed with soil, Isla felt a certainty settle deep in her bones. She hadn’t lost herself by choosing this life, this place, these people.

She had found herself.

And above all else, she had found love in so many unexpected ways.