And he did. “Yes.” He heard the words. “I’d love to.”
“Attaboy,” Marcus said “Okay. I’ll tell them. I’ll get the details, the dates, the whole circus.” Then, quieter, he added, “And hey—don’t stress. It’s a good problem.”
Joe swallowed. “Yeah.”
They wrapped up the call and when it ended, he lowered the phone and slipped it into his back pocket, suddenly aware of how loud the birds were in the trees above, how steady the waves lapped against the dock.
Three months in Europe. A full series. A major publication.
It was everything he’d been working toward. There was so much more of Europe he’d always wanted to see. Rome with its plazas and fountains, history around every corner.
It would be spectacular.
It was everything he had always wanted.
He turned slowly, taking in the campground: the line of trees that sheltered the sites, the brown bathhouse building with its peeling trim, the cabins tucked back in the woods. The newly bright beach. The dock where Frankie liked to patrol like he owned the place.
He thought of Walt’s tired eyes and stubborn pride. Alice in her recliner, blanket over her lap. Krista, barefoot, hands on her hips as she lectured a teenager about life jackets and sunscreen.
For most of his life, a “next assignment” had meant freedom. It was adventure, movement, and all the things he loved.
Now, for the first time, he wasn’t so sure.
He loved what he did. Photography was his passion. But it wasn’t everything. Not anymore.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Okay, he told himself.You don’t have to make this harder than it is.He could go. Three months, a handful of countries,the kind of work travel journalists dreamed about. Then he could come back. Back to Maple Falls. Back to her.
The thought settled in his chest with fragile hope. Possible. Had to be.
He just had to figure out how to tell her. Hell, maybe she’d even come…
Krista showed up a little later, the familiar crunch of her truck on the gravel loosening his shoulders before he even saw her. She hopped out in shorts and a camp tee, a clipboard tucked under one arm, curls fighting the messy knot on top of her head.
Her gaze went straight to the beach, and her whole face lit up, taking in all the fresh new sand. The tired, stomped-down strip had been replaced by thick, feather-light sand, sloping smoothly to the water. Perfect for castles, barefoot races, towels spread wide.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, heading toward him. “It looks amazing. I should’ve gotten to it sooner.”
“You had more important things on your list,” Joe said.
She stepped onto the fresh sand, toes digging in. “Still. Spring Krista failed us. Summer Krista is deeply grateful to you.”
He wanted to kiss her right then, just because he could. Because last night she’d let him see her in ways no one else had, and this morning she’d curled against him like she’d been doing it for years.
Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Gramps around?” she asked, glancing toward the office.
“He went up to the cabin to check on Alice,” Joe said. “Said he’d be back down later. I told him I’d stick around in case any new campers checked in.”
She studied him. “You okay?” she asked. “You look…weird. You’ve got that ‘in your head’ face.”
He hesitated, then decided he didn’t want to sit on it. Not with her.
“My editor called,” he said.
Her expression shifted. “Yeah? Good news?”
