“Alright,” Millie says, fanning herself with a paper napkin. “I’ll ask since no one else has yet?—”
Margo and Elena lean in at once, like an eager jury about to deliver a verdict, eyes sparkling over the rims of their glasses.
“Knox…what’re your plans for the house next door once summer’s over?”
Great question. One of many I’ve been too chicken to ask.
Knox leans back, thoughtful, swirling what’s left of his wine. “The place is in good shape. My grandparents took care of it, and they’re pretty thrilled I’m here now, giving their old vacation home a pulse again.” His gaze drifts toward the horizon. “But I’ve been thinking about making a few changes. I like it here more than I expected. Feels like it’s time to make it mine.”
His hand tightens on my thigh, a subtle squeeze that feels less about home renovations and more about me.
“That means you’ll keep it?” Elena beams.
“Never planned on selling anyway. And now, this house feels more like home than my place in the city ever did.”
For a second, something shadows his expression, an echo of whatever still haunts him about Manhattan, or maybe even what still haunts him abouther.
He lifts his glass but doesn’t drink. “Hard to picture a fresh start in the same place my marriage fell apart.”
Silence settles over the table, reflective, as if no one wants to disturb the weight of his words. We all sip what’s left of our wine, eyes drifting, lost in separate thoughts that somehow feel shared.
Then, as if someone turned down the lights on a Broadway show that’s run its course, the mood shifts. It doesn’t take long before plates are cleared, kisses are exchanged, and promises of brunch and borrowed recipes are made. And then we’re saying goodnight, slipping through Millie’s side gate with a click of the latch behind us.
CHAPTER 21
Cami
We walk in a silence where every thought seems loud yet unspoken.
Shadow and Stripe are sleeping, curled in my arms, warm and purring, their tiny bodies vibrating like thunderclaps against my chest.
I steal a glance at Knox, but he’s unreadable, his jaw set, gaze fixed on the path ahead as gravel crunches beneath our feet.
Waves murmur beyond the dunes, steady as breath, and the porch light flickers ahead, casting long shadows across overgrown grass.
When we reach the steps, I break the quiet.
“That third glass of wine has me feeling a little dizzy.”Or maybe it’s just how tonight’s spun me around. “You good?”
“Yep,” he says. “Just tired. Gonna shower and crash.”
His words land clipped and sharp. Like a door gently closing, catching my heart on the way.
So I nod. Like it’s fine. LikeI’mfine.
Shifting the kittens in my arms, I glance away, focusing on the full moon hanging too bright above us.
We climb each step in silence and slip inside, me first, Knox meandering behind.
Lights flick on with a low glow.
Stripe and Shadow stir in my arms but don’t wake, their small bodies cozy against my fluttering chest.
At the foot of the stairs, I pause, gaze drifting upward. “I’ll lay them down,” I murmur, adjusting their sleepy weight. “Then hop in the shower once you’re all done.”
“Cami…”
Knox’s voice, raspy and thick, stops me mid-step.
