But she was already gone. Moving faster than I’d seen her move in months, out of the kitchen, up the stairs, the sound of her bedroom door closing like a period at the end of a sentence.
There were no words after that. Just the echo.
I stood there in the empty kitchen, heart pounding, hands shaking, the taste of her still on my lips.
I didn’t sleep.
The carriage house was too quiet. Too dark. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Not as my friend, but as something else. Something I hadn’t let myself want until she showed me it was possible.
The kiss played on repeat. The way she’d leaned into me. The sound she’d made. The way she’d run.
I’d been here before. With Sarah. With the others. Making myself useful until useful became invisible. Showing up until showing up became expected, then taken for granted, then resented.
You’re doing it again,Sarah’s voice whispered in my memory.Making yourself essential. Making yourself furniture.
But this didn’t feel like furniture.
This felt like falling.
And I didn’t know what you did when stopping meant losing her.
I stared at the ceiling until the light changed, gray to gold to the bright white of morning. Somewhere in the main house, Grace was waking up. Making coffee. Moving through the routine we’d built together over sixteen years.
I didn’t know what came next. Didn’t know if she’d pretend it never happened, or if she’d ask me to leave, or if she’d look at me across the kitchen table and decide that whatever this was, it was worth the risk.
I only knew one thing for certain.
I was in love with Grace Lin.
And for the first time, just showing up didn’t feel like enough.
CHAPTER 11
Owen
Two days after the kiss,I was on the porch fixing a railing that didn’t need fixing.
Grace had been avoiding me. Not obviously, not in any way I could call out. But the easy rhythm we’d built over sixteen years had shifted into something careful. Polite. She was suddenly busy when I came by the main house. Our conversations stayed on safe ground: the weather, the guests, the contractor’s timeline for the electrical work.
We didn’t talk about the kiss.
I was giving her space. What else could I do? She’d made herself clear when she pulled away, when she said she’d be using me. I didn’t agree, but it wasn’t my call to make. So I showed up, kept my distance, and found things to fix that didn’t need fixing.
The railing was solid. I’d replaced it myself two months ago. But running my hands over the wood, checking joints I knew were tight, gave me something to do besides think about the way she’d tasted. The sound she’d made against my mouth. The look in her eyes before she ran.
Then the BMW pulled into the driveway.
My hands went still on the wood.
Black and sleek, the same car that had brought Emma to the B&B all those months ago. It rolled to a stop near the front steps, gravel crunching under tires that probably cost more than my monthly salary.
The driver’s door opened. Marcus stepped out.
He looked like a magazine cover. Tailored coat despite the mild weather. Watch catching the afternoon light. He adjusted his cuffs, surveyed the property like he was appraising it, and walked toward the porch.
He barely glanced at me.
“I’m here to see Grace.” Not a question. An announcement.
