“I… um… hi,” I manage.
Great. Brilliant. Stunning display of social skill.
“Come in,” Irene says, ushering me fully inside. “You’re family, sweetheart. Sit. The fire’s going. I’ll get some water or tea.”
I step farther into the living room.
It’s beautiful.
Warm wood floors, deep navy rugs, cream couches with throw blankets, shelves of books and seashells and framed art.
The kind of space that makes you exhale without meaning to.
But the part that gets me is the view.
The entire back wall is glass.
Ocean.
Sky.
Endless gray-blue stretching out forever.
Mason catches me staring and grins, leaning against the doorway like he’s posing for a catalog.
“Chatham hits different, doesn’t it?”
I blush again, which is infuriating, because I did not travel across state lines to turn tomato-red over some college boy with nice hair.
But still…
Maybe I don’t look so terrible after all.
I hug my arms around myself, still unsteady, still shaky, still patting at my new haircut like I’m checking to make sure it’s really there.
Irene squeezes my shoulder.
“Sweetheart,” she says. “You’re safe here. Truly.”
By the time we finish bringing in our bags, the sun is already dipping low, throwing pale orange light across the water. The whole house fills with that soft, golden glow that makes everything look warmer than it feels.
Irene claps her hands together.
“So,” she says. “Dinner plans. We can stay in and cook something simple… or we can venture out before the dark catches us.”
The idea of sitting alone in a strange house with my thoughts makes my stomach twist.
“I think… town,” I say quietly. “It looks nice.”
Irene smiles like she expected that. “Town it is.”
Within minutes, we’re all piling into their massive SUV.
The engine hums.
We pull out onto Main Street.
And for a moment, I forget how broken I feel.
