Epilogue
ELI
ONE YEAR LATER
I clutched the thick,messy file folder tight against my chest as I strode across the sun-drenched grounds of Sunset Siesta, my steps light and damn near bouncy. The folder was a chaotic mess of papers—colorful doodles of fish on the cover and many faint coffee rings adding character to the otherwise boring documents inside—but it made me smile. Around me, the resort thrummed with life, happy guests lounging by the pool, the distant buzz of saws from ongoing renovations, and the salty breeze carrying promises of hamburgers from Tidal Hops.
I caught sight of Dave, a regular on the dive boat this week, emerging from the pool. His enthusiasm for the ocean rivaled my own.
“Hey, Dave!” I called out, grinning. “See you on the boat tomorrow?”
He gave me a two-finger salute. “You know it, Eli.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Enjoy the rays, man.”
I took in the peaceful scene. It was clean and lushly tropical, the result of some added landscaping that Ben had found in a liquidation sale. Renovations were progressing around the resort but not in the pool area yet.
As Dave settled onto his lounger, pride surged within me. This place was thriving, and I was no longer just the carefree dive instructor wandering aimlessly. I was part of something bigger now—a family business that carried the legacy of the Coleridge name. A year ago, I might have balked at the thought, but now? Now it felt right.
And that was only part of it.
With flurries building in my stomach, I continued toward the lobby building. The sound of laughter and splashing water faded as I pushed open the double glass doors, replaced by the soft hum of air conditioning and the faint melody of some soft reggae playing over hidden speakers. The interior was cool and inviting, with a light citrus scent in the air.
I strolled past the check-in desk where our receptionist, Dana, was busy fielding a call with her usual grace. She flashed me a quick smile before returning to her conversation about room rates and dolphin tours. Continuing down the hall lined with glossy photos of underwater scenes from around Dove Key, courtesy of me, I passed by Harper’s office, empty at the moment.
When I paused outside Jules’s office, a grin spread across my face at the sight before me. She sat behind her desk with both hands buried in her long raven hair, face scrunched up in frustration as she stared at her sleek monitor. With a huff, she started typing furiously, leaving her locks in complete disarray.
“Looks like someone forgot her bun today!” I calledout, leaning against the doorframe. “Bird’s nest chic really suits you, hon.”
Her eyes flicked up, surprise morphing into a reluctant smile. “Very funny, Eli.” She lifted both hands to her hair, taming the mess. “I learned a long time ago that some days I need to keep my hair down or I’ll pull it all out. At least I’ve got my new computer. Financial audits are one of the few things I truly loathe, but they’re necessary. Unlike your jokes.”
“Hey! My jokes are essential for the well-being of this place.” I sauntered in, the flurries turning into a full-grown storm inside my stomach. “Well, I hate to add to your workload, but…” I held up the huge, disheveled folder. I’d stuffed it with every stray financial piece of paper I could come up with. “I forgot to give you this one. Hope it doesn’t set you back too much.”
Jules’s eyes widened, a mix of exasperation and amusement dancing across her features as she reached for the folder. “You’re killing me, Eli. Really? Fish cartoons?”
“You never appreciate my artistic talent.”
Jules flipped through the papers, her brow lowering more with each page. I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she flipped through the disarray, trying to restore order in her mind and her workspace. It was tough, but I managed to keep the smile off my face.
“Honey, this is a disaster. It looks like a hurricane hit it.” She paused, shooting me a pointed look. “You have duplicate invoices here, I’ll have you know.”
“Duplicate? You mean I’m double the fun?” I shot back, trying to suppress the urge to laugh. Watching her wrestle with my mess was immensely satisfying.
“Fun doesn’t exactly cover your complete lack of organization.” She sighed dramatically, but I could see herfighting a smile. Then she peered closer. “Wait… is that a ketchup stain?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m a multitasker. Paperwork and lunch, all in one go.”
She gave me a deadpan stare. “At least it’s not blood. How you manage to run the dive shop without drowning in chaos is beyond me.”
“Ah, it’s all part of my charm.” I winked, and she returned to sorting through the mess.
Suddenly, Jules froze. Her eyes widened, fixed on something nestled against the spine. The papers in one hand slipped from her fingers, forgotten as they landed on the desk.
Time stopped.
The only sound in the room was the thundering of my own heartbeat. I drank in every nuance of her reaction. The slight parting of her lips, the catch in her breath, the way her fingers shook as they hovered over the diamond ring.
“You know,” I said softly, my joking tone gone, “it’s funny how easy it is to miss what really matters when you’re buried in the numbers.”
