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The sand, cooled from the heat of the day, felt pleasantly cold underfoot. It was a fine, soft canvas, unmarked by the usual footprints and castles left by daytime visitors. Here and there, the remnants of the day's activities - a forgotten sand shovel, a lone flip-flop - lay scattered relics of the beach's daytime persona.
Along the water's edge, the occasional seashell or piece of driftwood rested, washed up by the tide, gleaming under the moon's soft luminescence. These treasures of the sea, each unique and sculpted by time and water, lay waiting to be discovered by the next day's beachcombers.
In the distance, the blinking light of a lighthouse punctuated the darkness, a steady and reassuring presence. It cast a sweeping beam over the water, a guardian for the night-time sailors navigating the unseen currents of the ocean.
The cliffs that bordered the beach stood as dark silhouettes, their imposing forms a stark contrast to the open expanse of the sky. The vegetation atop the cliffs rustled softly in the night breeze, adding a hushed rustling to the sounds of the night.
Occasionally, a nocturnal bird would call out, its cry echoing along the deserted beach, adding a layer of mystery to the night. The air was cool and fresh, filled with the briny scent of the sea and the subtle fragrance of the coastal flora. In this setting, the beach was a place of peace and contemplation, a world away from the bustle of daylight hours. It was a landscape that inspired introspection and wonder, a reminder of the natural beauty and quiet majesty that could be found in the world after the sun had set.
Charlotte nodded, sharing his awe of the breathtaking, glittering view. "It's incredible," she agreed, finding solace in the natural beauty that surrounded them. "And so different here than in New York. The water there is big, expansive, but not this wild. There's something about this cove that is just so...healing."
Simon smiled thoughtfully, clearly understanding what she meant. "You know, I think you're right. There's an old saying around here that goes, 'The sea heals all wounds, but only if you let it.' I like to remind myself of that whenever life gets too overwhelming."
"You’re full of wisdom," Charlotte said teasingly, her nervousness beginning to subside.
"You would do well to learn from me, milady,” Simon teased back, taking another sip of wine.
As they continued their picnic meal, the butterflies in Charlotte's stomach quieted down, replaced by a warmth that spread through her entire being. She felt grateful for this moment, for the connection she shared with Simon, and for the serenity that Chesham Cove seemed poised to bring into her life. No denying that she had been nervous, but now she couldn't help but be captured by his charm and their undeniable chemistry.
"Tell me about your art, Charlotte," Simon said as they finished their first course and he unpacked more food—this time, a glass dish of cold, herbed lamb and an assortment of fruits. His voice was filled with genuine curiosity. "What's your favorite medium to work with?"
"I love painting with watercolors and oils," she replied, her eyes lighting up at the thought of her passion. "There's something so varied and beautiful about the way each different color blends together on canvas."
"Ah, much like the sea," Simon mused, gesturing toward the distant coastline an winking at her. When she deadpanned back at his further attempts at “wisdom,” he laughed. "I can see why you were drawn to Chesham Cove. Much to inspire here."
She felt awkward now that the conversation had turned to her artwork, something she was always hesitant to discuss for fear of sounding pretentious—or garnering criticism, as Daniel had often doled out. But with Simon, it felt different—safe, even. "Maybe I could show you my studio sometime."
"I'd like that," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with genuine interest.
"Speaking of the sea, what's it like owning a fleet of fishing boats?" Charlotte asked, accepting a small plate of lamb and fruit, eager to learn more about this rugged, outdoorsy man who had captured her attention.
"Every day is a new adventure," he said with a grin as he served himself. "The ocean constantly reminds me of how small we truly are in the grand scheme of things. It's humbling and exhilarating all at once."
"Did you always know you wanted to work with fishing boats?" Charlotte asked Simon, leaning closer as she took in every detail of his rugged, handsome face. His eyes sparkled as he thought about her question.
"Ever since I was a little boy," Simon replied, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "Growing up here, the sea is like a second home to everyone. It's as if she called out to me particular, though, asking me to explore her depths. My mum probably wishes I had gone into banking."
Charlotte couldn't help but laugh at his poetic description. "She sounds like a siren, luring you in with her beauty and mystery."
Simon chuckled, his laughter rich and infectious. "The sea or my mum?”
Charlotte tossed a strawberry at him, which he caught easily and bit into. “Perhaps she is, the sea," he admitted with a wink. "But she's also been my greatest teacher, showing me the importance of hard work, perseverance, and respect for nature. A fickle mistress, but often a rewarding one."
"Enough about me," Simon said, bringing the focus back to Charlotte. "America to Chesham Cove? What inspired you to buy The Old Crown Inn?"
Charlotte hesitated for a moment, vulnerable under Simon's gaze. But there was a kindness in his eyes that encouraged her to share her story. "Well, after my soon-to-be-ex-husband decided to end our marriage, I needed a fresh start. A place where I could rediscover who I am and what truly matters to me. I was an upper-middle-class housewife with a grown child trying to make it as an artist in New York. My husband was successful. I thought I was happy. But all of that crumbled. And when I saw The Old Crown, it felt like fate. She and I are both a little past due for renovation. But much like your sea, I think she will reward me."
"Sometimes life takes us on unexpected paths," Simon mused, his eyes softening with empathy. "But maybe those paths lead us exactly where we need to be, yeah?"
"Maybe they do," Charlotte agreed, feeling a sense of reassurance in their shared understanding. Charlotte felt a deep and unexplainable connection to this man who seemed to understand her so effortlessly. They had only just met, but already their hearts were beginning to intertwine, weaving together a story that could turn out to be theirs and theirs alone.
As Simon reached for another slice of cheese from the picnic spread, his hand brushed against Charlotte's, sending a jolt of electricity between them. They both paused, their eyes meeting once again—this time with an unspoken acknowledgement of the connection that was blooming between them.
"Charlotte," Simon whispered, his voice barely audible above the rhythmic crashing of the waves, "I just want you to know how incredibly lucky I feel to be sharing this evening with you. " He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. And then, without warning, he pressed his lips tenderly against hers. The kiss was soft and sweet, a fleeting moment that held the promise of so much more. Charlotte felt her heart race within her chest, her breath catching in her throat. It had been years since she had experienced a touch so gentle and full of affection.
Slowly, they pulled away, their eyes searching each other's faces. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Charlotte felt truly present, embracing the wonder of a moment and the hope it held.
"Here, try this," Simon said, breaking the spell as he leaned away. He took out a foil-wrapped dish, offering Charlotte a forkful of quiche. She hesitated briefly, new nerves threatening to overtake her excitement. She was acutely aware of his closeness as she leaned in to take a bite.
