Gabe’s eyes fell on the coffee and cookies. “Ah, you’re an angel.”
He reached over and poured himself a cup from the pot, breathing in the rich aroma. Perfect. He glanced out the tall windows at the rain-streaked glass.
“I missed our morning painting session,” Gabe said, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“The weather station said it should clear by this afternoon,” Jane replied, glancing around the ballroom. “So hopefully tomorrow morning will be fine.”
“I hope so,” Gabe said sincerely. Those sessions had become important to him. More important than he had realized until they were interrupted.
Jane smiled at him, then gestured to the shells spread across the table. “It’s so quiet without Trinity and Maddy here.”
Gabe laughed. “They’ll be back later this afternoon to change that. Isabella texted me. They’re going to the movies and then hitting every store in St. Augustine, apparently.”
“Christmas shopping,” Jane said knowingly. “Trinity was very insistent that you couldn’t come because they’re buying your present.”
“So I heard,” Gabe said with a grin. “What can I do?”
Jane spent the next few minutes showing him what she needed. Certain shells were to be painted in specific colors; others were to be left natural but sealed with a clear coating to make them shine. She handed him brushes and paints and gave him detailed instructions, her voice patient and encouraging.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, working side by side while rain continued its steady percussion against the windows. The ballroom was peaceful in the gray morning light, the Christmas decorations they had spent days creating giving the space a warm, festive atmosphere despite the dreary weather outside.
For the next hour, they worked mostly in silence, the kind of easy quiet that comes when two people are comfortable enough with each other that conversation is not necessary. Occasionally, Jane would point out a technique or Gabe would make a joke about his questionable artistic skills, but mostly they just painted, the soft sound of brushes on shells mixing with the rain.
Gabe found himself stealing glances at Jane when she was focused on her work. The way she bit her lower lip slightly when concentrating. The way her fingers moved with practiced grace over the shells. The peaceful expression on her face that he had not seen during those first few days after they met.
“I don’t know if this is too forward,” Gabe said finally, breaking the silence. The words came out before he could second-guess them. “But you mentioned the day Pamela first showed up here that you’d survived an accident and had to learn to walk again?”
Jane’s brush faltered slightly, and Gabe saw her eyes darken with emotion as they met his.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Overstepping.”
Jane was quiet for a long moment, her brush hovering over the shell she had been painting. Then she set it down carefully and gave him a sad smile.
“No. It’s okay, and it was bound to come up.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But if I tell you...”
“Ah,” Gabe nodded, understanding immediately. “Is this our deal thing we have? You show me yours and I have to show you mine?”
“Yup,” Jane said, a hint of challenge in her voice despite the sadness in her eyes. “I think it’s only fair.” She raised a brow. “I bet you’ve heard snippets of my tragic past from my father and Uncle Logan or Gran?”
“Sorry, yes,” Gabe admitted. There was no point in lying. He had heard things. Quiet comments. Concerned looks. The whispered information family shares when they are worried about someone they love.
Jane’s smile broadened slightly, understanding in her expression. “Don’t worry. I know snippets of your tragic past, too.”
Gabe felt his heart lurch. Of course she did. In a place like this, with families intertwined the way theirs had become, stories traveled. Pain was shared, even when the person at the center of it wished it could remain private.
“I asked first, though,” Gabe said, not sure he was ready to talk about Abi just yet. Because he knew that telling Jane would be different than telling anyone else. With her, he found he could hold nothing back. “And I’m a gentleman.”
Jane snorted, a sound so unexpected and genuine that it made Gabe smile despite the heavy turn their conversation had taken. She picked up a cookie and took a bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed. She took a breath, set the cookie down, and then her eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance.
“Three years ago I was married,” Jane began, her voice steady but quiet. “His name was Darren Evans.”
Gabe set down his brush and gave Jane his full attention, knowing instinctively that this was important. That she needed him to really listen, not just hear.
“He was an engineer,” Jane continued. “He met my father five years ago when they were working on the same building restoration project in West Palm Beach. I was working as a scientific researcher at Lockheed Martin back then. We met at a function at my father’s work that I was invited to, and we just...” She paused, a real smile crossing her face for the first time since she started talking. “We just clicked.”
Jane’s eyes glazed over slightly as she got trapped in the past, and Gabe could see her reliving those early days. The happiness. The hope. Everything that had come before the tragedy.
“We were married a year later,” Jane said softly. “And not longafter that, we were expecting our first child. A little girl. We had already picked out her name—Taylor.”
