AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She turned and looked out at the sea once more, the waters glittering like diamonds all the way to the horizon. Charlotte smiled, a sense of peace settling on her shoulders. She was exactly where she was meant to be.
Just then, she heard footsteps approaching behind her. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her waist. Charlotte leaned back against Simon's broad chest with a contented sigh.
"I finished up work as fast as I could. How are you doing?" he asked gently.
"I'm okay," she said. "It's hard saying goodbye. But Amelia said she’d come back. In fact, she said she couldn’t wait to come home."
Simon kissed the top of her head. "Good. I'm glad."
They stood quietly for a moment, watching the endless dance of the waves. Then Simon turned Charlotte in his arms until she was facing him. His hand came up to cup her cheek tenderly.
"You know, you've made this place feel like home for me too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You and that beautiful heart of yours."
Charlotte's eyes shimmered with tears. "Oh Simon..."
He lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss both achingly sweet and simmering with passion. Charlotte melted against him, returning the kiss with all the love swelling inside her.
When they finally drew apart, Simon rested his forehead against hers. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I want to build a life here with you."
Charlotte smiled up at him through happy tears. "I want that too," she whispered. "More than anything."
Simon's face lit up with joy. He pulled her close again, holding her in a warm embrace as the last light of day caressed the old inn behind them. Charlotte closed her eyes, safe and at peace in the arms of the man she loved.
This was home. A new chapter was beginning, and her heart was ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Charlotte's heels clicked against the cobblestone as she made her way into the heart of Chesham Cove. The salt-tinged, ozone-y breeze carried the sound of seagulls arguing over the morning's catch while shopkeepers swept their front stoops, chiming greetings to early customers. Charlotte inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly baked bread and blooming wildflowers mingling in the air—an olfactory testament to the harmonious blend of nature and community that had lured her across the Atlantic.
As she approached Sally's bakery, the warm glow from within spilled out onto the street through large, inviting windows. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of golden loaves and iced pastries lined up like edible soldiers awaiting their march into the hands of eager patrons.
"Morning, Charlotte!" Sally called out as the bell above the door tinkled, announcing Charlotte's entrance. The baker's apron was dusted with flour, and her eyes crinkled with a smile that seemed to never quite leave her face.
"Good morning, Sally," Charlotte replied, returning the smile with one that reached all the way to her green eyes—a feature that mirrored the rolling hills surrounding the cove. "It smells divine in here, as always."
"Ah, that'll be the cinnamon twists. They're particularly feisty today." Sally winked, leaning on the counter. "How's the weather treating you? Looks like maybe some rain today."
"Actually, I find it rather refreshing," Charlotte mused, her gaze traveling over the assortments of confections. "There's something about the sea air that's invigorating. It makes me feel...alive. And it’s perfect for a day spent painting by the cliffside."
"Speaking of which," Sally began, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret, though Charlotte knew it would be nothing more than benign local news, "have you heard about the flower festival next week?"
"Only every day since I arrived," Charlotte chuckled, her laughter mingling with the chime of the oven timer as Sally turned to retrieve another batch of what could only be scones. "It seems like the whole town is abuzz with preparations."
"Indeed, we are," Sally affirmed, placing the tray atop a wire rack. "And I dare say your contributions would make quite the splash. Your art—those landscapes you do—they capture the essence of Chesham Cove like no photograph ever could."
"Thank you, Sally. That means a great deal coming from you," Charlotte said, touched. Such words bolstered her confidence in the decision to preserve the unspoiled beauty of this place—a commitment etched into her very soul.
"Anyway, let me not keep you," Sally continued, packaging a few pastries. "You've probably got a day full of inspiration or renovation ahead of you."
"Indeed," Charlotte agreed, accepting the bag with a grateful nod.
"Charlotte," Sally said, her voice lowering conspiratorially as she leaned across the counter. The corners of her eyes crinkled with barely contained excitement. "Before you go, have you heard the latest whisperings?"
Charlotte, drawn by the intensity in Sally's gaze, rested her elbows on the cool marble, a smile playing on her lips. "Do tell."
"Word around town is that your father might be coming for a visit soon," Sally confided, her hands cupping her mouth as though shielding their conversation from the very walls that surrounded them.
A flicker of surprise crossed Charlotte's features, her eyebrows arching gracefully. Her father, the man who existed more in abstract memory than reality, seemed an unlikely visitor to this quaint seaside retreat—though he continued to be spotted around town frequently since the first mistaken sighting. Charlotte tilted her head, considering the possibility, but her heart remained guarded behind a fortress of skepticism.
