He sighed. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I spun around, heat rising in my chest. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked like the two of you coordinated the entire thing.”
He glanced at the camera hanging from his shoulder. “You really think I’d do that?”
“I think you don’t know how to stop turning things into another twist in the road. I think it excites you. And I think you’re too scared to ever think about what’s next.”
He winced. “You don’t know that.”
“No, maybe I just don’t knowyouafter all.”
He took a few tentative steps closer. “I told you earlier, I didn’t pitch the story. I just took the assignment.”
“That’s not better,” I replied miserably.
“I didn’t know what it was going to be about!” His voice cracked slightly as he dragged both hands through his once-neat hair. “They told me it was a human interest series—small towns, community rebuilding, all that. I didn’t know they were going to twist it into some trashy hit piece about ‘the lost heart of America.’”
I folded my arms. “You’re really expecting me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Something about the way he said it—no pleading, no defensiveness, just a set jaw and quiet determination—made my heart flutter.
I stared at him for a long moment, the waves slapping rhythmically against the craggy shore.
“This hurts, Teddy,” I said finally. The words brought unwelcome tears to my eyes. “You came back here, restarted everything I left behind, made me think you—”
He grabbed my hand and didn’t let go. “I did.”
I shook my head, too far gone to see reason. “No. Even if you didn’t know about the story, the fact remains. You didn’t come back for me.”
That decades-old mantra—the one I’d slowly forgotten and shoved into a corner of my mind—unfurled again, weaving through every thought and wedging itself somewhere betweenhope and logic. After all this time, it came back with a vengeance, echoing truer than it ever had:risk brings heartbreak.
“That’s not true,” Teddy replied, but it was too late.
“It is,” I whispered, my voice cracking over the next words: “You didn’t come back for me.”
The sound of smashing glass split the air, followed by a rising commotion from inside the restaurant. Shouts. The unmistakable buzzing energy of panic.
Teddy jerked upright as I wrenched my hand away. “What was that?”
Before I could answer, the restaurant doors flew open and a wave of heat and smoke burst out. Someone shouted, “Fire!”
Chaos erupted—waiters spilling into the courtyard, guests herded toward the porte-cochère and out onto the sidewalk as alarms blared. Flames flickered through the glass, orange light strobing against the sea-specked windows.
“Must’ve been the candles," Teddy was saying, but I was already walking away.
Surreptitiously wiping the trails on my cheeks, I found a head of copper curls in the crowd, attempting a smile as I grabbed her elbow. Georgie whirled around, chest heaving and eyes wide, as if she was three seconds from filing a missing persons report.
“You’re alive!” she cheered, momentarily throwing her arms around me.
I sniffed and hid it with a cough. “It’s not like the restaurant was hit by a missile—orwasit?”
“Very funny. One of Jesse’s groomsmen tripped and knocked an entire row of candles over.” Georgie held me by my shoulders, tilting her head as she searched my face. “What’s wrong?”
I seriously needed to invest in some poker classes.
“I’ll tell you later,” I begrudgingly replied and linked my arm through hers. “What do you say we steal the keys from the valet stand and head home?”
