“You should show it at the Springtide Festival at the gallery.”
Her shoulders tensed immediately. “No.”
“Emily—”
“I’m not ready for that.” Her voice carried an edge of panic that hadn’t been there moments before. “This is just practice. Getting my hand back. It’s not gallery work.”
“That’s not what I see.”
“Then you’re seeing wrong.” She began cleaning her brushes with sharp, defensive movements. “I appreciate you looking. But I’m painting for myself right now. Not for exhibition.”
He heard the fear underneath her refusal. He knew that paralysis. That certainty that showing work meant exposing yourself to judgment you couldn’t survive. The difference was he’d let that fear win for seven years. Emily was at least creating again, even if she couldn’t yet share it.
He nodded. “Okay, but when you’re ready, the offer stands.”
Her hands slowed on her cleaning rag. She looked at him with surprise, maybe having expected an argument. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not pushing. People always want to push past where you’re ready to go.”
He nodded again. “Yeah. Doesn’t help, though. Just makes the wall higher.”
They stood in companionable silence while Emily finished putting her supplies away. The wind had picked up slightly, and the temperature was climbing toward the day’s full heat. He should head to the gallery. He had a lot of work to do. Instead, he heard himself say, “I was going to grab coffee at Harbor Brew. Want to join me? Once you’re done here?”
Emily paused with her hand on the easel, and surprise flickered across her face. “I look like I’ve been painting in the wind for three hours.”
“So? It’s Starlight Shores. Nobody dresses up for coffee.”
She laughed, and the genuine sound transformed her wary expression. “Fair point. Let me get this back to my cottage. I could be there in twenty minutes?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
He walked away before she could change her mind, before he could change his own mind. His phone buzzed with a message from the gallery assistant about a delivery question, grounding him back in practical concerns. He should be asking himself what he was doing, inviting Emily further into his life when he’d spent weeks trying to keep her at arm’s length.
But the truth was simpler than his complicated justifications. He wanted to have coffee with someone who understood trying to create again after failure. Someone who saw the difference between hiding and healing because she was walking that same uncertain line.
Maybe that made him selfish, looking for understanding instead of offering it. Or maybe it made him human and finally willing to admit he wasn’t as okay as he pretended to be.
Chapter16
Emily arrived at Harbor Brew with paint still under her fingernails. She’d scrubbed them twice, but the ultramarine blue had already set. At least her hair looked decent after she’d twisted it into a French braid.
Grant had claimed a corner table away from the morning rush. He stood when she approached, a gesture that caught her off guard. When was the last time someone had stood for her? Daniel never had.
“Thanks for coming.” He pulled out her chair.
“Thanks for asking.” She settled into the seat while he signaled the server.
The coffee shop was busy with the morning crowd. Locals chatted at nearby tables, their conversations mixing with the espresso machine’s hiss. Photos of the town taken over the years covered the walls, and a community bulletin board overflowed with colorful flyers. The whole place felt lived-in and welcoming.
Jan came over and smiled at Emily. “Welcome back. Hope you’re adjusting to life in Starlight Shores.”
“I am. Thank you.”
“What can I get you?”
“Just a cappuccino. Thanks.”
