“Diaries?” Her voice rose with excitement, then she laughed. “I should explain that I’m
working on a passion project. I’m writing a coffee table book about the history of Destin. In my spare time, I run the “Destin from Days Gone By” Facebook page. Any chance I could interview some of your family? Are your parents available?”
“My mother,” Vivien said, considering the request. “She and her closest friend, who also vacationed here. They’ll talk to you. And we will, if you like.”
Her whole face brightened. “I would love that. And the diaries?”
Vivien felt heat rise at the thought of a stranger reading about her teenage crush—especially because he was sitting right here. “I’ll have to curate those,” she said with a laugh.
“Whatever you can share,” Natalie responded. “And I promise I won’t give up on the bridge completely. Maybe there’s a stone we haven’t turned.”
They exchanged phone numbers, shook hands, and thanked her again before leaving.
Outside, the day hit them full-force—blue sky, sharp light, the air warm with salt and traffic from the nearby highway. They stepped off the curb and paused near the edge of the parking lot.
Vivien exhaled hard. “Well. That was disappointing,” she said. “I guess not for her research but for our bridge.”
“Yeah,” Peter said. “She wants your diaries.”
“Well, she ain’t getting them.”
“I wouldn’t mind reading them myself,” Peter said with a sly smile.
She threw him a look. “Over my dead body.”
“Really?” He laughed. “’Cause I’m in there?”
In therewas one way of putting it. “Because I wrote them as a child and they’re silly and I was…”
She turned toward him, and for a second the sunlight caught his face in a way that made him look younger and older at once—stronger around the eyes, more worn at the edges. The Peter from the past, and the future.
“I know what you were,” he said.
“Young, annoying, and jealous of Tessa?” she teased, hoping he really didn’t know that she was a lovesick teenager who’d obsessed over his every gesture.
Or maybe heshouldknow that. Maybe this was the moment to tell him that she’d made a huge and regrettable mistake when she asked for space.
She took a breath and prayed for the right words. “Peter, I?—”
“Do not give up hope,” he said, interrupting her and bringing her to silence.
“I…haven’t.” Had she?
“Because I’m not done digging into this bridge paperwork.”
Oh, they were on very different wavelengths.
“If someone’s palms were greased, it could be indictable,” he said. “I can talk to the chief about an investigation, and that would delay the demolition.”
She swallowed the confession she was about to make. “Can you do that?”
“It’s what you want,” he said, as if her wish was his command. “Don’t count on it, but I’ll poke around some more.”
“Thank you,” she said on a sigh, knowing this might not be the moment, but she had to tell him soon. “You free for dinner now?” she asked.
Peter’s expression shifted, just slightly—something warm passing through it, something almost startled. “Uh, actually, I’m meeting Connor and Holly. You’re welcome to join us.”
Her heart dropped. “No, no. You do family time.”
