“A couple withfurbabies,” Elena corrects, face beaming more from wine than our sweet story. “The best kind.”
Millie laughs, eyes dancing. “Well, that’s the most charming home invasion story I’ve ever heard. Would love to meet them. Feel free to bring those kitties here anytime. Once they’re old enough to be around people, of course.”
We hang out a while longer, sipping wine and swapping stories about how they retired early from the Crystal Cove school district after winning an office lottery pool; that Elena and Margo became Millie’s roommates just a few years ago; tales from their travels; Millie’s hilarious memories of Knox as a brooding man in his twenties; and a tiny bit about Oxford and my big-girl job in New York.
At one point, Knox and I share the story of our first encounter, which sends all three women into giggles.
“I didn’t want to track sand into the house,” I explain, shrugging. “Just following the no-sand rule.”
Millie leans in with a knowing smirk. “Oh, sweetie. Sand from the beach is fine. I only added that clause after our very first sitter rinsed out a boogie board in the guest bathtub. A boogie board! The drain hasn’t forgiven us, and neither has my plumber. I swore off house-sitters for a full year after that.”
Elena snorts into her wine. “And the girldeniedit but still said the ‘sea minerals’ were good for the pipes.”
“Sea minerals, my ass,” Millie mutters, shaking her head. “Sand is a menace. Treat it like glitter. Whichneverleaves.”
Knox lifts his glass, deadpan. “Honestly, I think we should start a petition to ban sand from all beaches.”
That stirs another round of laughter.
I raise my glass to his. “Exactly. Because sand is a clear public safety issue.”
Millie nods solemnly. “Nowthat’sa platform I can get behind.”
Knox catches my eye as the laughter fades, his smile softening in a way that sends a tingle through my body.
Then, as if they’ve been holding it in since the moment we stepped inside, one of them finally brings up our age gap.
Millie just laughs and waves it off. “Only eleven years? Please. Knox probably still gets carded, and you’ve got more poise than half the women in my book club.”
After a beat, with a fond look in my direction and a small sigh, Millie says, “Oh, honey. I didn’t mean to throw a wrench in your summer plans.” She takes a sip of wine, flicks her wrist like she’s brushing worry away. “You’ll still be paid through August, just like the agreement says. And you’re more than welcome to stay here while you sort out your next step. Will you stay in Crystal Cove or head to New York?”
The question settles in my chest like a pebble dropped in deep water—small but its ripples spreading fast.
I glance at Knox, his easy presence pulling me one way, the skyline I’m meant for tugging the other.
Before I can answer, Knox leans forward, his hand finding the back of my neck in a soft touch that quiets the panic buzzing inside me. “Why don’t we grab your things?” he says, his suggestion a thread of comfort. “We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”
I don’t know what undoes me more: his hand sliding down my back or how his words make this sudden dilemma feel a little less impossible.
We head up and pack quickly, and twenty minutes later, we’re hugging our goodbyes.
Millie taps Knox on the arm. “You still have the same cell number?”
He nods. “Sure do.”
“Good.” Her smile tilts toward astute. “In case something comes up.”
As we turn to go, Knox brushes his hand over the small of my back, and I catch the tail end of a glance shared between the three women, subtle but loaded.
“You two make a pretty picture. Like a Hallmark movie but withrealchemistry,” Elena calls from the porch.
Margo lifts her glass. “Don’t forget…cruise next summer. Bring sunscreen and secrets.”
Millie just smiles, her eyes knowing. “Y’all don’t get into too much trouble.”
Knox pulls the large suitcase behind him while I wheel the smaller one, gravel crunching again beneath our feet. We pause at his Rover where he carefully lifts the kitten carrier from the backseat.
Stripe and Shadow blink up at us, tiny faces pressed to the mesh.
