Barrett didn't respond.
Cadie took a breath and released it slowly.She watched a pelican glide low over the surface of the ocean, its wings barely moving as it rode the air currents.
"The only bright spot," she said, "is that it appears I'll be able to do the right thing with my aunt's property."
Barrett turned to look at her."How will that work?"
"The sale will go through the Revolving Fund," Cadie said."It's a group with covenants to ensure the building is restored and maintained as a music conservatory.Boone Properties has a mission to restore historic properties.Jaxon Boone is exactly the kind of person my aunt would have trusted with Stratton House."
"The building can't be demolished?"
"It can't even be significantly altered."Cadie felt relief.Her aunt's legacy would endure, protected by legal covenants that no developer could circumvent.
Kal Davis would never touch Stratton House.
Barrett put his arm around her shoulders as they stood at the railing.The ocean stretched out before them, endless and calm, and for a moment the world felt manageable.
"That means you'll be able to get back to normal," Barrett said.
Cadie understood what he meant.He was telling her that the burden would be lifted, that she could return to the life she had built in New Orleans, to Genevieve and the band and the apartment and familiar routines.He was offering her reassurance that the disruption was temporary, that the difficulty would pass, and she would find her footing again.
But she was not the same woman who had stepped off a plane in Charleston only days before.There was no normal.
And Barrett had not said anything about his plans.He hadn't mentioned where he fit in.
Cadie felt the ache of that omission even as she leaned against him.
Barrett turned to face her, then brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers gentle against her temple."I love you, honey."
Then he kissed her.It was deep and unhurried, a kiss that conveyed his feelings for her.Cadie kissed him back, placing her hand on his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart.She loved him with all of hers.
But as the kiss ended, a question surfaced.Is love enough?
*****
It was good to be with Barrett.His presence calmed her in a way that nothing else could, and the hours they spent together were special.But beneath the surface, Cadie felt as though she were suspended between one thing and the next.
She waited while the case was being built.Sullivan had the text transcripts and the medical records and the financial documentation, and he was assembling it all into a file that would become the foundation for arrest warrants and criminal charges.There was nothing Cadie could do to accelerate that process.The evidence existed.The detective was thorough.The wheels of justice turned at their own pace, and all she could do was trust that theywouldturn.
She waited while Jaxon Boone put together a structure for the property sale.He had been enthusiastic in their meeting, knowledgeable and respectful, and she believed he understood what Stratton House meant and what it could become under the right care.But the paperwork took time.The Revolving Fund had protocols.Covenants had to be drafted and reviewed.Legal language had to be precise enough to protect the building for generations.Cadie could not rush that either.
And then there was Barrett.
She had no idea where that relationship was headed.He loved her—she believed that without question.She could feel it in the way he looked at her and the way he held her, the way he spoke her name.But love and reality were different things, and Barrett had not bridged the distance between them.He had not talked about New Orleans or Charleston or what happened after the case was closed and the property was sold and the reasons that kept them in the same city no longer existed.He had not asked her to stay.
Barrett drove her back to her car.Her rental was where she'd left it, and she followed Barrett through the city to a restaurant he knew.It was a small place on a quiet street, the kind of neighborhood spot that did not need to advertise because the food spoke for itself.The interior was warm and unpretentious, with dark wood tables and the low hum of conversation.
Barrett settled into a booth with her.His tone seemed lighter than before, and Cadie appreciated the shift.She watched him scan the menu.
Cadie did not feel especially hungry, but she ordered a cocktail.She didn't care that it was only the afternoon.Her nerves were frazzled, and the day had wrung her out in ways she was still sorting through.The drink arrived in a short glass with a twist of lemon, and the first sip spread warmth through her chest and loosened the tightness from the phone call with Kal.
Barrett ordered and began to eat.He talked about the food and about a place he'd discovered on King Street that made the best shrimp and grits in the city.Cadie listened, sipped her cocktail, and felt better.He didn't push her to eat or to talk about the investigation, or to plan the next steps.He simply sat across from her, and that alone was comforting.
She ordered a small plate eventually, more to keep him company than out of hunger, and they lingered at the table as the afternoon faded into evening.The light through the window shifted to early dusk, and the restaurant began to fill with the dinner crowd.Cadie found herself watching Barrett gesture while telling a story about a case he'd worked on years ago, something innocuous that involved a missing dog and a client who had neglected to mention that the dog had a habit of escaping.He told the story for the pleasure of it.Cadie felt the warmth of his presence and relaxed more.
That night, she slept in Barrett's arms.
She did not ask where they stood or what would happen next.She did not bring up New Orleans or the future.She simply let him hold her, let his arm rest heavy and warm across her waist and his breath move steadily against her hair.Then she closed her eyes to let exhaustion take her.
