Cliff took another bite of his steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Like what?”
She grinned at him. “I’m not sure. You’re the big-shot developer.”
Their server returned to check on them, momentarily interrupting their conversation. When she left, Cliff studied Beverly with a thoughtful expression.
“You really care about this place, don’t you?” he asked.
“It’s my home. It’s where I belong.”
Something shifted in his gaze. “It was my home too, once.”
“It could be again… If you wanted it to be.”
The implication of her words hung between them, layered with meaning that went beyond the development project.
He set his napkin down beside his plate. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. About a different approach to the development.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” she said, relief washing through her. It wasn’t a promise to change his plans, but it was an opening. A willingness to consider alternatives.
They turned the conversation to lighter topics as they finished their meal—the upcoming fundraiser they’d originally planned to discuss, Eleanor and Jonah’s engagement, and the progress of repairs around the island. By the time they declined dessert and asked for the check, the tension had eased.
Outside, the sky had darkened, but the boardwalk was lit by the warm glow of streetlamps. They walked slowly, in no hurry to end the evening.
“Thank you for dinner.” She paused as they neared the end of the boardwalk.
“Thank you for the company. And for the perspective. You always did have a way of making me… listen.”
“Except that time I told you not to take your father’s car, and it ended up in the bay, didn’t it?” She bumped her shoulder into his, smiling.
He laughed. “Okay, I really should have listened to you that time.”
They continued on their way until they reached her cottage. They stood on her porch steps with the stars twinkling above them. He took her hand in his, his grip firm and his skin roughened from the manual work he’d been doing. He looked straight into her eyes. “I do enjoy spending time with you. You’re the one person I feel like I can be myself with… and you’ll accept me.”
She reached out and touched his face. “You’re a good man, Cliff Griffin.”
He covered her hand with his own. “I’ve spent so long trying to prove myself…”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
The words hung in the air between them as she gazed up at him. His hand still covered hers against his cheek, warm and solid. Her heartbeat quickened as his eyes darkened, moving from her eyes to her lips and back again. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the magnolia tree beside her porch, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint sound of music drifting from the boardwalk.
Time seemed to slow as Cliff leaned toward her, his intention clear in his eyes. She had a fleeting moment to decide—to step back or to stay. She stayed, her feet planted on the wooden porch as if they belonged there.
And then his lips found hers.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost questioning, as if he expected her to pull away. But she didn’t want to pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer.
It had been so long—decades—since they’d kissed. The last time, they’d been two teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them, standing on the beach with stars overhead, making promises they couldn’t keep. Now they were adults with years of living behind them, standing on her porch with those same stars watching.
Yet something about this felt both new and familiar at once. His lips were softer than she remembered, but they moved against hers with the same sureness, the same perfect rhythm they’d found all those years ago.
She closed her eyes as she surrendered to the moment. The years between their last kiss and this one seemed to fall away. All the hurt, all the misunderstandings, all the loneliness—none of it mattered in this perfect moment where there was only Cliff and the feel of his arms around her.
She’d kissed other men in the years since Cliff—but nothing had ever felt quite like this. It was as if a piece of herself that had been missing for years had suddenly fallen back into place. A warm sense of rightness flooded through her, and she found herself smiling even as they continued to kiss.
Cliff must have felt her smile because he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. His own lips curved upward in response. The look in his eyes—tender, questioning, hopeful—made her heart skip a beat.
“Beverly,” he whispered, his voice husky.
