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Roxanne was still out at the pub whenSimon arrived. He ushered Charlotte into the kitchen and made her tea,insisting that she sit and let him dote on her.
The dining room at the inn was a roomsteeped in history, its walls whispering tales of past loves and ancientheartaches, now witnessing the tender unfolding of another bittersweet story.Charlotte sat across from Simon, her artist's eyes tracing the quaint detailsof the room—the way the flickering light played upon the aged oak paneling, thesoft, rhythmic tapping of a leaky window as the evening drizzle kissed theglass. It had begun to rain, after all.
Her hands, usually so steady and sureas they brought to life visions of coastal landscapes on canvas, betrayed herinner turmoil. They fidgeted with the cloth napkin, twisting and folding thewhite linen into anxious patterns. She took a deep breath, the salty tang ofthe sea mingling with the rustic aroma of hearth-baked bread and simmering stewthat filled the air.
"Simon," she began as hesettled across from her with his own tea, voice barely rising above the whisperof the inn, "I had an encounter today—an unexpected one." Her fingersceased their dance with the napkin, coming to rest upon the worn table as shesought the words.
Across from her, Simon seemed like astatue hewn from the cliffs themselves—rugged and enduring. His kind eyes,reflecting the overhead light, held a depth akin to the ocean he braved withhis fleet. He was silent, waiting, his presence a patient anchor in the tidalwave of emotions threatening to sweep Charlotte away.
"It was my father, Henry,"she continued. "After all these years..." Her voice trailed off,leaving the unspoken thoughts to swirl in the golden light that enveloped them.
Charlotte's gaze lingered on Simon'sface, searching for a sign, any indication of how he might receive this pieceof her past that had so suddenly resurfaced, like driftwood tossed ashore bycapricious waves. But all she found in his expression was the same steadfastsupport that had become the bedrock of her new life in Chesham Cove—a life shehad begun on a wild whim, seeking healing and a fresh start amid the naturalsplendor of this seaside village.
“It’s okay, You can tell me what’shappened.”
The warmth from Simon's hand seepedinto Charlotte's own, a tangible reassurance in the midst of her brewing storm.His fingers curled around hers, a silent lighthouse guiding her through the fogof trepidation that had settled over her since Henry's unforeseen return. Thegentle pressure urged her to cast the anchor of her fears aside and sail forthinto the truth of her past.
"Simon," Charlotte began, hervoice a tremulous note barely heard above the soft clinking of cutlery atneighboring tables. "When my mother passed away, it was awful." Shepaused, gathering the fragments of memory, each shard edged with years ofconfusion and sorrow.
"Henry...he left shortly after.Not a word to me or Roxanne. Just a hole where he once stood." A silvertear betrayed her composure, trailing down her cheek like a stray raindrop onthe pane of The Old Crown Inn's mullioned windows. It was a pain that had laindormant, nestled beneath layers of time and tides, but now it broke free witheach spoken word.
"Roxanne, she took it hard—"Charlotte's confession caught on a sob as she pictured her sister, bold andsassy Roxanne, reduced to seeking refuge in the numbing embrace of too muchwork. "She always pretended to be so strong, but I know better. Hisleaving shattered something inside us both."
In the flickering candlelight, thedining area of the inn seemed to hush around them, the walls adorned with herown paintings bearing silent witness to the unraveling of old wounds. The seaoutside crashed against the shore.
Simon’s thumb traced small circles onher skin in soothing reassurance. His voice, when he spoke, was low and steady,a gentle anchor.
"Charlotte," he began, hiswords deliberate, as if choosing each one with care, "I can't pretend tounderstand all you've gone through, but I want you to know I'm here foryou—through this reunion, through every challenge that comes your way. You'renot alone."
Outside, the sea's rhythmic songcontinued its timeless serenade to the cliffs, indifferent to the human heartsit echoed or the secrets they kept. A heavy sigh escaped Charlotte’s lips asshe considered Roxanne's way of coping. She could almost hear the way Roxiesounded as she laughingly brushed off Charlotte’s dismay at another cancelledplan, delayed trip, or shortened visit—all because she was needed at theoffice. Roxanne, always the firebrand, now seemed to be flickering like asputtering torch under the strain of past heartaches and present uncertainties.
“Roxie took it badly—at the store.”
"Roxanne is strong," Simonsaid, reading the worry creasing Charlotte's forehead. "But even thestrongest among us need a moment to gather strength. Let her have this time;she'll come back when she's ready."
Charlotte nodded, knowing he was right.The inn around them felt like a world apart. "Speaking of surprises,"Charlotte hesitated, the revelation feeling both monumental and intimate,"there's something else, Simon. It turns out... we have a brother.Liam." She watched him closely, searching for any sign of retreat.
Simon's expression registered surprise,but his hand remained firm and warm in hers. "A brother? That's quite theturn of events." He gave a wry smile, the kindness never leaving his eyes."Looks like we're one more for holidays, right?"
"Yes," Charlotte agreed,almost laughing at his reply, feeling the tangle of her nerves begin to unfurl." Her heart swelled with a mixture of relief and affection, the tides ofher soul shifting toward brighter shores.
The amber glow from the fireplacedanced across the room, casting a soft light that enveloped Charlotte and Simonin its warmth. Outside the inn's leaded windows, the rainy night had drapedChesham Cove in a blanket of stars, but within its walls, time seemed to slow,each tick of the grandfather clock a gentle reminder of the here and now.
"Simon," Charlotte said, hervoice barely above a whisper as she pictured Roxanne amidst the raucousmerriment of the local pub. "I still worry about her."
"She just needs a moment toprocess everything on her own terms."
"Can I confess something?"Charlotte found herself asking, the words spilling out before she could weighthem down with doubt.
"Anything," Simon said, hisvoice a calm port in the storm.
Charlotte hesitated, her gaze droppingto where their hands nearly touched. She drew in a shaky breath, her voicequivering as she finally allowed the walls around her heart to crumble."When I saw Henry and... and Liam, I was so angry, Simon. Angry for allthe years lost, for all the pain Roxanne and I had to bear alone." Hereyes, shimmering with unshed tears, met Simon's in a plea for understanding."But inside, there was also this... this happiness, this relief I can'tfully explain. It was as if a part of me I didn't even know was missing hadsuddenly been returned."
The tears she had fought so hard tokeep at bay now cascaded down her cheeks in earnest, each drop a testament tothe years of pain, confusion, and longing. The dam had broken, and with it, allthe emotions she had bottled up inside were now free, overwhelming her in theirintensity.
Simon rose from his chair, rounding thetable to pull Charlotte into his arms, offering her the shelter of his embrace.She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her sobs muffled by his sweater."It's alright, Charlotte. Let it out," he whispered, his hand gentlystroking her hair in a soothing rhythm.
After a moment, he pulled backslightly, his eyes searching hers. "I'll stay tonight, if you'd like. Youshouldn't be alone." The offer was a lifeline, one that Charlotte graspedwithout hesitation, nodding through her tears.
