“I will,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For Magnolia Key.” But it was more than that. It was also to help Cliff. To show him she believed in him.
She believed in him? That thought sent a shockwave through her. So, so very much had changed.
“For Magnolia Key,” he echoed, raising his glass in a small toast.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts about the fundraiser. The sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, with a slash of purple above them. She realized with a start that this was the most relaxed she’d felt in a long time—sitting here with Cliff, planning something good for their community.
“We should probably start making a list,” she said eventually. “Figure out what businesses to approach, what kind of timeline we’re looking at.”
“Some things never change. Always the planner.” He winked at her.
“Someone has to be,” she retorted, softening the words with a grin.
Cliff stood at Beverly’s door, the evening air warm around them. The sound of waves in the distance mingled with a lone gull calling from the sky. The stars began to twinkle above them. He felt a pull toward her he couldn’t deny, an undercurrent that had been there since he’d returned to Magnolia Key.
“I’m glad we’re back on track.” The words tumbling out awkwardly, and he grimaced inwardly at how formal they sounded. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not still mad at me.”
Her eyes caught his, and for a moment, he saw something there—a flicker of the past, perhaps, or maybe something new. Her lips curved into a soft smile that made his heart beat faster. He took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
His gaze dropped to her lips. They were just inches away. One small movement and he could finally have the kiss he’d thought about for decades. The one that had haunted his dreams, the possibility that had lived in a corner of his mind all these years.
His heartbeat quickened. The moment stretched between them, filled with possibility. But something held him back—uncertainty, fear of rejection, or maybe their complicated history. Whatever it was, it kept him rooted in place.
“Goodnight, Beverly,” he said finally, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Thanks for the wine. And for agreeing to help with the fundraiser.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but he thought he saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes. Or was he just projecting his own feelings?
“Goodnight, Cliff,” she said softly. “See you tomorrow.”
He walked down the steps of her porch. The door closed behind him with a quiet click that somehow felt louder than it should have.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself as he walked along the quiet streets of Magnolia Key.
The neighborhood was peaceful at this hour. Most homes still had lights on, people settling in for the evening after another day of hurricane recovery. He passed Mrs. Henderson’s place, noticing her new wind chimes tinkling in the breeze, replacing the ones lost in the storm.
What was wrong with him? He’d waited thirty years for that moment. Thirty years wondering what might have been if his father hadn’t crushed his spirit that night, if Theodore hadn’t intercepted his letter.
And now, when the perfect opportunity presented itself, he’d choked.
The streetlights cast long shadows as he walked. Jonah’s cottage wasn’t far, but tonight, the distance felt longer, each step a taunting reminder of his cowardice.
“You’re not seventeen anymore,” he told himself. “You’re a grown man who builds striking buildings for a living. You make million-dollar decisions without blinking. And you can’t even kiss a woman you’ve known your whole life?”
But that was just it. Beverly wasn’t just any woman. She was Beverly. The girl who’d helped him through algebra. The teenager who’d listened to his dreams. The woman who’d looked at him with such hurt and betrayal when he returned to Magnolia Key with plans to change her beloved town.
The same woman who now knew the truth and had somehow found it in her heart to forgive him.
He turned onto Wisteria Street, Jonah’s cottage now visible ahead. The lights were still on, which meant his mother and Jonah were probably playing cards in the living room, as had become their nightly ritual.
Cliff slowed his pace, not quite ready to face his mother’s perceptive gaze. She’d know something was up the minute he walked in. Eleanor Griffin hadn’t raised a son without learning to read his every expression. And now that they were actually talking—really talking—for the first time in decades, he found her attention both welcome and unsettling.
He stopped and looked back in the direction of Beverly’s cottage. Maybe he should turn around. Go back. Finish what he’d started. Or at least what he’d thought about starting.
No. That would be even more awkward. Showing up at her door again minutes after leaving? What would he say? “Sorry, I forgot to kiss you good night”?
He shook his head and continued toward Jonah’s cottage. The porch light welcomed him, just as it had every night since the hurricane. He’d initially balked at staying with his mother and Jonah, but now he had to admit it wasn’t half bad. Jonah was easy to be around, and his mother… well, they were both trying. That counted for something.
As he climbed the steps to Jonah’s porch, Cliff realized something. For the first time in years, Magnolia Key felt like home again. Not just a place from his past or a location for his next development, but home. The people, the streets, the smell of the ocean, and yes, Beverly—all of it wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.
