She laughs. “Tell me everything.”
I'm halfway through the tale — Kate, the wedding, the key card, the limestone — when Max materializes at my side and fills in the gaps with his dry wit.
“I tumbled off the rocks,” I say.
“And I fished her out of the springs,” Max says. “We've been inseparable ever since.”
I look up at him. “We have, haven't we?”
Heat rises in my cheeks as he smiles down at me.
“So what do you do, Lauren?” Jonathan asks.
I brace slightly. “I'm a social media influencer. Creator. I work with wellness brands — herbalists, sacred site guides, a few spiritual retreat centers. Places where people go to actually change something.” I pause. “You might know some of them, actually. I've worked with Selva Sagrada in Costa Rica. And closer to home — I did a series last year for a healer named Sylvia Crane, who works out of Cassadaga.”
Cara's eyes widen. “I follow Sylvia. She's extraordinary.”
The tightness in my chest eases. Of course people in Cypress Grove know Sylvia Crane.
“Lauren's also a photographer,” Max says. “The real kind.” He pulls out his phone and finds my account — not the posed villa shots, but the others. The temple in Kyoto. The children on the street in Rome. The sacred pool in Bali. He passes it to Jonathan. “She has an eye that doesn't come from a filter.”
I watch Jonathan look at the photos. Then Maya. Then Cara. The room is quiet for a moment.
“These are incredible,” Maya says simply.
I don't know what to say, so I murmurthanksand take a gulp of wine.
Max's hand settles on the small of my back. It stays there while he talks, warm and easy, like that’s where it belongs.
“So how long are you in Cypress Grove?” Cara refills my glass.
At that moment, I overhear Max telling Jonathan about the resort — the renovations, Natalia's plan, the meeting with the buyer that didn't go the way he'd hoped. His voice is measuredbut underneath it I can hear the thing he doesn't say out loud: that selling his childhood home is more complicated than he expected. That Cypress Grove has a pull he's been resisting for a long time.
“I'm staying for a while,” I say. “A few months at least. Max and I haven't fully worked out the details — we need to see how the resort renovations go.”
I hear myself sayweand feel my neck prickle.
We.As in a unit. As in people who discuss their plans together.
Cara beams. “It sounds like between the two of you, you could end up anywhere.”
“Even if he wanted to stay in Cypress Grove,” I hear myself say, “I wouldn't mind.”
What is happening. I need to stop drinking now. What am I saying?
Max turns. His lips brush my temple and linger.
“You said we,” he murmurs.
“I know.”
“Good,” he says quietly. Firmly. His tone sends a zing of awareness through my body.
The moment dissolves into a discussion of when dinner will be ready, and I let it wrap around me, while my heart pounds with happiness amidst all the laughter.
