When he unlocks the door, he nearly walks straight into a woman who looks like she could be a housekeeper, her sixties etched into her warm smile.
“Camila!” he exclaims. “I’m sorry for walking straight into you. I didn’t think you’d be here at this time of night?”
“I forgot something here earlier, boss. Sorry for scaring you.”
“It’s okay. You’ve met Maria and John—this is Lizzie,” he says, motioning to me.
Camila’s eyes flick to mine, and I see a mischievous smile form.
“Nowthat’swhat I call a brunette.” She beams at Nate and wiggles her eyebrows repeatedly.
Nate lets out a nervous laugh, swallowed by John’s louder one.
“Camila, I think you and I have been on the same wavelength this entire time,” he says, motioning to her.
“Pastor, I’ve been riding this wave a long time. It’s about time you joined in.” She gestures likeget on board with this.
I feel heat creeping up my neck and cheeks. I’m not usually shy, yet something about this makes me blush. Could she mean what I think she means?
As she picks up her keys and moves toward the door, the others drift into the living room. Before I can follow, Camila leans in and whispers to me.
“First time meeting Nate?”
“Yes,” I whisper back, though I’m not sure why.
“He’s one of the good ones. I told him a while ago I thought he needed a sparkling brunette.”
I laugh at that.
“Well… I do come from an Italian family. But I’d like to think I don’t explode as often as they do,” I grin.
Her laughter joins mine.
“He’s a good man. Cares a lot. Works too much.” she murmurs. “Pretends he’s fine. But he isn’t always.”
“I can tell there’s a lot beneath the surface. We had fun tonight, but he’s revealed more than that, too,” I answer, letting the night settle into memory.
“That’s surprising. He’s usually a closed book.” Her expression shifts, curious—like she’s thinkinghuh.
“I can just tell there’s something different about you… something vibrant. That’s what he needs.” She places her hand on the door handle, then glances back at me. “He’s got a good heart.”
I take that in, tucking it away in the back of my mind as she leaves.
“Bye, Camila,” I murmur softly.
I make my way down the hall to where I last saw them go. As I move down, the hallway opens into a high-ceilinged living room. The white-washed walls give it a sense of it feeling new. The decor is sparse—just a few touches that make it feel lived-in. A vase, a painting hung up on the wall. Coasters on the coffee table.
But, there’s no soft furnishings or blankets draping over the sofa, no picture frames hanging on the wall.
Yet my gaze is pulled to the windows. I let out a little gasp. They’re floor to ceiling, the city below melting into the beach beyond. Moonlight dances across the water, waves crashing into the shore. With a view like that, you don’t need much else in the room.
“I felt the same the first time I saw this,” Nate says.
The moon hangs low, luminous and magical, spilling silver ribbons across the waves.
“I’m guessing the sunrise must be beautiful to watch from here,” I say, mesmerized by the view.
He nods. “It really is. I haven’t watched many lately, but whenever I get the chance, I love it.”
