“Small world,” I said, though I didn’t remember her at all.
“Isn’t it?” Kenzie’s gaze lingered on me, assessing. “I was so excited when your name came up for this project. I told Carol we absolutely had to have you.”
An older woman in baggy jeans and a blazer appeared behind Kenzie. Carol—I remembered her from the Zoom call. Sharp eyes. No-nonsense energy.
Carol gave Kenzie a look I couldn’t quite read, then turned to me. “You ready for this?”
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“Don’t be. We know what we’re doing,” Carol said. “As they say, this ain’t my first rodeo.”
“She’s a legend,” Kenzie said, sounding proud. “She worked with Will and Janna.”
Carol rolled her eyes. “Legend might be stretching it. But I have a good feeling about you. Your portfolio was exactly what we were looking for.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Okay, let’s go back and meet your client.” Kenzie made air quotes. “He’s kind of dreamy.”
He was standing with his back to us, one hand resting casually on the counter, the other typing into his phone. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled, the morning light catching the silver at his temples. His hair was still damp from the shower, a single bead of water trailing down the back of his neck.
“Vance, meet your designer,” Kenzie sang out.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and turned.
Our eyes met.
The world seemed to stop.
I froze, breath catching in my throat, and for a long, stunned beat, neither of us said a word.
Vance Prescott.
It hit all at once—his voice over dinner, the story about moving back to Willet Cove, the way he’d mentioned the house he’d grown up in. Of course. Of course it was this house. His house.
How could this be? What were the odds? Fate—or something far crueler—had a sense of humor.
His expression shifted slowly—from polite curiosity to disbelief, then to something deeper. Recognition. Caution. Maybe even the faintest flicker of hope. I saw the moment he put it together, saw the same shock mirrored in his eyes that was probably written all over mine.
“Lila?” His voice was quiet. Rough. “You’re the designer?”
I felt a droplet of perspiration slide down my spine. “Yes. And you’re the client.”
Kenzie chirped, far too brightly, “You two know each other?”
“We’ve met a few times,” I said quickly.
“Right. Yes. Yes, we sure did,” Vance added, his tone a little too casual.
“Small town,” I said, managing what I hoped passed for a smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carol and Kenzie exchange a glance.
Carol cleared her throat. “Well, let’s all sit down and get started. We have a lot to cover.”
The sound of her voice broke whatever strange spell had fallen over us. I forced myself to look away from Vance and toward the table, praying my legs wouldn’t betray how shaky they suddenly felt.
Carol gestured to a round table in the corner of the kitchen. Papers were neatly stacked beside two mugs of coffee that hadalready gone cold. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence that stretched between us.
