Sage woke to the sweet, salty scent of the ocean after the rain. Soft tendrils of sunlight streamed through the overhead window, highlighting the rumpled sheets where Flynn once slept. She caressed the faint imprint left behind on his pillow, already missing his presence.
She’d never slept more peacefully than last night, her hand clasped in Flynn’s comforting grasp. She wanted to spend every night the exact same way. But how was that possible? What future could they have? Tonight at the gala, his parents would announce his promotion as the new VP of Cahill Enterprises, a position that would take him all over the country. Far, far away from Blessings Bay—away from her.
Her heart ached at the likelihood of losing him again. How would she survive a second time?
The heady fragrance of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pancakes floated into the cabin. Her stomach growled.
Oh, to marry a man who could cook like Flynn.
She shook away the foolish thought. The last thing she needed was to dream about happily ever after when this may be their last day together.
She quickly combed her fingers through her unkempt hair before climbing out of bed. As she followed the mouthwatering aroma to the galley, her stomach swam with eagerness and apprehension. Part of her couldn’t wait to see Flynn after last night—after they’d finally buried the past—but what if she’d imagined the whole thing?
Her palms warmed at the memory of his touch, tender and tingling, as if his fingerprints had left a permanent mark. Definitely not a dream. At the faintest brush of their pinkies, he’d reached for her, gripping tightly, as if she held all hope for a future together in her hand. It had to mean something, didn’t it?
She paused in the doorway, watching the man she loved flip pancakes on the small stove, humming a happy tune. Was it “Starting Over” by John Lennon? She smiled, secretly thanking Gran for passing down her love of the Beatles.
Flynn turned off the burner and swiveled to check on the steeping French press. When he spotted her in the doorway, his smile beamed even brighter, radiating all the love she felt in her heart. Was it possible they could start over?
“Good morning.” He held her gaze, and an earnest yet nervous energy crackled between them, as if neither one of them knew how to act after last night.
“Morning.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, giving her fidgety fingers an outlet for their jitters.
After Flynn’s apology, they hadn’t spoken another word. They’d simply fallen asleep holding hands, their new status quo left unspoken.
The slate had been wiped clean, but what now?
She suddenly needed to divert attention from the strange tension in the room. “Where’s Cap?”
“On deck, sunning himself. I think he’s really getting used to life aboard a sailboat. He doesn’t even mind doing his business on the patch of artificial turf, which I’ve heretofore dubbed the new poop deck.”
She smiled, stopping herself from asking how he felt being on a boat again.
Flynn plunged the French press, separating the velvety liquid from the grounds. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your sailing bookshop.”
“Floating bookshop,” she corrected him.
“See, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you can go bigger. I really think you should consider literary-themed sailing charters. And I thought of the perfect idea to convince you.” He turned to face her, his amber eyes sparkling with glints of gold, the way they used to almost every day when they were younger. Back when he exuded excitement and exuberance for life. “Remember the part in The Curious Quest of Quinley Culpepper where Quinley saves her ship from the ruthless pirate captain by winning him over with an elaborate tea party?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before blurting, “Wouldn’t that make the coolest excursion? You could make it a sunset sailing tour with a pirate-themed tea party.”
As he rattled off more details, Sage stood in stunned silence, certain she’d conjured the entire conversation in her mind. She had to be hallucinating.
“Sage? Did you hear anything I said?”
Sage blinked, struggling to make sense of what just transpired. “You—you read The Curious Quest of Quinley Culpepper?” She’d hounded him about reading the story a hundred times as kids, but he’d always brushed it off as a “girly” book.
“Like a dozen times.” He grinned. “I know, I know. As a kid, I thought it was just some book about a girl looking for her father. But once I read it, I realized it’s really about the journey of finding yourself. And how the friends we make along the way help us figure it out.”
He’d actually read it, after all these years. She couldn’t believe it. Tears pricked her eyes. The thought of Flynn reading her favorite novel just to be close to her—and that he actually understood it—touched something deep in her soul, like a love language that transcended words.
Without thinking, she spanned the distance between them and flung her arms around his neck. Their lips met with a spark of electricity she’d never felt before, urgent, fierce, and utterly sublime.
Flynn pulled her close, one hand encircling her waist while the other cradled the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss. His fingertips flexed, deliciously tangled in her curls, as if they’d ached to caress them again.
She lost herself in the moment, blissfully aware of each thrilling sensation, from the top of her head to her toes.
Oh, how she’d missed this. She’d missed him. And right now, nothing else mattered. Not even the heartbreak that would inevitably follow.
When their lips finally parted, Flynn rested his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. “Wow,” he murmured with the sultriest rasp. “I guess you liked my idea.”
She laughed softly, savoring his scent. “I loved it. But setting aside the fact that we still haven’t found the diary, so I don’t yet have a boat to sail, I can’t exactly afford to hire a crew.”
“What about me?”
At his unexpected question, she stepped back to search his gaze. “What are you saying?”
“What if I sail Mira for you?” His eyes gleamed again.
“You?” He couldn’t be serious.
“Sure, I’m a little rusty. But I bet it’ll all come back to me in no time. Plus”—his lips arched in an impish smirk—“we make a pretty good team, don’t you think?”
She blushed. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. “But what about your promotion? You can’t run Cahill Enterprises and a sailing charter.”
“True. But Kev’s list is thirty before thirty. I still have time before I hit the big 3-0.” He grinned proudly, as if he’d thought of everything.
Her pulse fluttered at the possibility. Could this actually work?
But what happens next year? And the year after that?
Sage shoved her concerns to the back of her subconscious. Tomorrow’s problems could take care of themselves. “Your parents aren’t going to be happy.”
“I know.” For the first time that morning, the light in his eyes dimmed. “And I feel bad about letting them down. But I’ve spent my entire life trying to please them. For once, I want to do something for us.”
For us. The words wrapped around her like a warm embrace. “Are you sure?”
“So sure, why don’t we skip the coffee and go straight for the champagne to celebrate?” He grabbed a bottle of Dom Pérignon from the fridge.
She couldn’t help a smile. “I guess Mr. Mackensie’s provisions weren’t so impractical after all.”
“I’m starting to wonder if he knew something we didn’t.” Flynn tossed her another teasing grin and twisted the cork.
With a loud pop and a whoosh, the cork sailed into the air and thwacked against the fancy crown molding that framed the ceiling.
Giddy with mounting happiness, Sage laughed, then gasped as a six-inch section of the crown molding swung open, revealing a narrow crevice.
“That’s weird.” Flynn frowned.
“You don’t think—” No. It couldn’t be.
Flynn hoisted himself onto the counter. “What are the chances we just found Mira’s secret stash?”
“A hundred to one?” Her heart raced, but she didn’t dare hope.
Flynn stuck his hand into the shadowy nook. His eyes widened. Both disbelief and triumph splashed across his face as he withdrew his hand. Along with a small leather-bound notebook.
Her pulse slowed to a standstill. “Is it—?”
Flynn flipped it open, briefly glanced at the first page, then met her gaze with the biggest, goofiest grin. “I think we’ve won ourselves a sailboat.”
Happy tears welled, creating a surreal, dreamlike effect as Flynn whooped and scooped her off the ground, twirling her around the tiny room.
Cap clearly heard all the commotion from above deck because he barreled through the companionway to join the celebration, barking and prancing along with them.
The entire scene played out in slow motion, and Sage tried to memorize each exquisite detail, down to the fizzy champagne bubbles that tickled her throat.
But somewhere deep in her heart, a quiet voice wondered, Was it all a little too good to be true?