Finn’s innocent assumption of permanence felt like a dangerous counterpoint to Chase’s admitted fear. Was I leading my son toward heartbreak by allowing this connection to deepen, by letting myself hope this time was different? The weight of responsibility crushed me.
The bonfire gathering began to wind down naturally after that. Eli and Jules were the first to leave, Eli dramatically yawning while Jules gave me a quick hug. From across the fire, Brenna caught my eye with a questioning look I pretended not to see. Braden headed back toward Tidal Hops, likely to check on his fermenters.
Finn dozed as he slumped against me.
Chase stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Well, much as Ihate to leave the party, I should probably head home. I need to look over the Franson schedule to make sure we finish on time.”
“We should get going too,” Hunter said as he grasped Brenna’s hands in his and gently pulled her to her feet.
But I barely noticed them. Tonight, I needed space. I needed to process Finn’s question, to wrestle with the implications away from Chase’s perceptive gaze.
“Of course.” I forced a smile that felt brittle.
He stood up, and I gently disengaged Finn before standing beside him. He tilted his head down, his expression sharpening in the dim firelight. “You okay? You got quiet there for a bit.”
“Just tired,” I lied, avoiding his eyes. “Long week.”
He didn’t push, just leaned down and gave me a kiss. It was warm, lingering, tasting faintly of smoke and beer and the promise of something I was terrified of losing. It felt different against my lips now, tainted by the fear Finn’s question had reignited. When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine for a moment. I hoped my own fear wasn’t broadcasting itself like a faulty radio signal.
He ruffled Finn’s hair. “Night, buddy. See you soon.”
“Night, Chase,” Finn mumbled sleepily.
Then Chase walked away down the beach path, his tall frame disappearing into the shadows. Finn shifted position, sleepily staring into the hissing remains of the doused fire.
Will he be my dad then?
The question pulsed in my mind, in time with my heartbeat. I needed to talk to Brenna. Just as she and Hunter reached the edge of the beach path, I called out, my voice a bit shaky. “Brenna? Wait up!”
She turned, Hunter pausing beside her. Brenna walked back toward me, concern etched on her face in the dim light. “Everything all right?”
“Can I… can I talk to you tomorrow? Swing by the shop?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Brenna glanced back toward where Chase had disappeared, then looked closely at my face. “Of course. Is this…?” She gestured vaguely after Chase.
I nodded, unable to form words.
“Okay,” she said softly, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “How about at lunchtime?”
“Yes. Thanks, Brenna.”
“You three looked really happy tonight, you know,” Brenna added gently, her eyes kind.
The comment, meant to comfort, felt like twisting a knife. “Yeah,” I managed, forcing another weak smile. “That’s… that’s what I need to talk to you about.”
Brenna gave me one last worried look before rejoining Hunter. I watched them go, then glanced down at Finn, now fast asleep as he slumped on the log, his face peaceful and trusting. The contrast between his innocent assumption and my own paralyzing fear was stark. I lifted him into my arms and hugged him tight, the scent of woodsmoke clinging to his hair, and wondered how on earth I was going to navigate this.
Seekingrefuge from the relentless Florida sun and the even more relentless churn of my own thoughts, I pushed open the familiar door to Bookshop in Paradise. The immediate cool quiet was a balm, the air thick with the comforting, dusty scent of paper and ink, a world away from resort budgets and bonfire anxieties. Sunlight streamed through the large front window, illuminating intricate patterns in the worn area rug near the entrance. Brenna raised her head from a nearby display, where shewas meticulously arranging a display of author spotlights. One glance at my face, and the welcoming smile she offered shifted instantly to quiet concern.
“How are you holding up, big sister?” Her question was soft, filled with concern.
“Just another day in paradise.” I gave her a weak smile. “Is now still okay to talk?”
“Always.” She moved away from the display, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let’s go in the back. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
After she flipped the front door sign toClosed, I followed her through a doorway into the small, cluttered back office. It was crammed with boxes of books, shipping supplies, a small desk overflowing with invoices, and two surprisingly comfortable, mismatched armchairs tucked into a corner. Brenna waved me toward one while she poured coffee into two thick pottery mugs.
“Okay.” She handed me a mug and settled into the opposite chair. “Spill it. What happened last night?”
