Page 30 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“I’m not,” I say seriously, needing her to understand. “Your brother’s wife, Bonnie, spent about half an hour telling me how you were the world’s best aunt, the most loving and supportive sister, and how much everyone respects you here.”

“She has to say that—she’s family.” Her cheeks turn a bright red, and she looks away.

“Not really, no. She didn’t have to tell me about how you organized the elementary school play when the theater teacher went into early retirement. She didn’t have to mention the time you helped the mailman optimize his route to decrease his delivery time during the day so he could get home earlier to spend time with his kids. I mean, who does that? And then I met one of the councilmen and he told me about the time you started an initiative to rebuild the rotting dock by the shore. The town didn’t have the money for it, but you managed to plan a fundraising effort and exceed its donation goal.”

“Jesus, they told you all of that?” she whispers, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah. They did.” It was an afternoon of learning, about my father, yes, but it ended up being mostly about Lottie. It was like some of the chapters in her life she’d kept hidden from me had been revealed through the people around her, the people who loved and knew her. It was pieces of her I craved every second of every day since meeting her that I hadn’t been able to get.

“I did the play thing for my nieces. And the mailman thing was a bit self-serving; Justin kept making late deliveries and it was irritating.” But I know she’s lying. Or if it’s true, it’s only a half truth. “And the dock… Well, I couldn’t let the damn dock rot if I had an inkling on how to raise the money for it, could I? It was the logical thing to do.”

I laugh and shake my head. “You can deny it all you want—even if it’s super weird of you to—but this town loves you, Lottie. They do. And I’ve got a feeling you love it back.”

Her face twists in something resembling pain, but I have no idea why. “Hey, are you okay?” I come around the desk and kneel in front of her. “Is it something I said?”

“No, no.” She smiles at me. “I’m good. It’s nice to hear I’m appreciated. There was a time in my life when I didn’t really get much of that, so it kind of throws me off to think of people being… I don’t know. Appreciative.”

I frown, wanting desperately to pry, but all the while knowing full well that prying into her life will always lead to her raising her walls. So I give her some space, some quiet— hopefully enough to make her feel safe enough to share.

But she doesn’t.

“Well, I’m appreciative of you, too.”

“Thanks,” she says with a soft smile that has me weak in the knees.

I sigh deeply, frustrated and wrecked that I’m still just outside of her, waiting to be let in—even just as friends. I glance at the office wall, the one covered in post-its, reading the notes on there to distract myself from the ache of the barrier she’s put between us.

“And I do care about Ceres Cove. I just… It’s just not really for me, I don’t think. I really miss New York and would love to go back someday. Actually, I’m kind of banking on this whole sale to go well so I can do just that.”

“You wanna leave Ceres Cove?” I ask, surprised. Seems like her entire support system is here, and while I’ve heard her speak about her old work, she never seems to mention any old friends, relationships, or coworkers. It makes me wonder what she’s really wanting to go back to.

“I think I outgrew this town the day I was born,” she says with a laugh. “It just isn’t for me. I mean, you get it, right? You’ve traveled all over the world. Ceres Cove is hardly anything special.”

I pull back, surprised. “Ceres Cove looks like the type of town I dreamed of growing up in as a kid,” I tell her, remembering how much I would’ve killed to have a normal, steady, boring upbringing in a town like this. As opposed to the absolute clusterfuck I experienced. From my POV, Ceres Cove is awesome. From its beautiful coastal homes to its small beaches, its quaint two-street downtown and the feeling of being family with everyone even when they’re not. This little town in Maine tugged at something within me I couldn’t quite pinpoint. And it wasn’t a negative feeling.

“And ‘special’ is a relative term. You’d be surprised by how many people and places have been deemed as ordinary to some, but extraordinary to others. I think you just need to change your perspective. It’s what photographers have to do sometimes to catch the true beauty of the seemingly simplest things. People just need to look a little harder sometimes.”

She laughs easily, throwing her head back. “I don’t think you’ll ever convince me that this town isn’t anything more than a coastal town in the middle of nowhere with little to offer.”

“That’s harsh.” I scoff.

“Believe me. I’ve been here most of my life. You’re just seeing everything in rosecolored glasses. Ceres Cove isn’t as great as you think it is, and you can bet your life that I’m out of here the first chance I get.”

“I think it’d be this town’s biggest tragedy to lose you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LOTTIE

Just a couple of days after the official closing, I find myself slipping into Knox’s car to start the next phase of our project. The smell of whiskey and smoke and delicious leather quickly overpowers my senses as he shuts his truck door on my side. Knox has officially made his signature scent my favorite thing ever. Do they make a Bath & Body Works candle for it, by chance? Because I’d buy ten in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t even wait for one of their promos.

Its effect on me is so strong, I barely notice his grin as he rounds the hood of the car, eyes never leaving mine. But I see it. And I see the way he still looks at me. And I hate the way I feel a thrill every time he does. The way I know I can’t help but look at him, too.

I watch closely as he straps himself into his seat, taking in the way his muscles move beneath his white henley, the faint outline of his tattoos almost visible through the soft, worn fabric. It’s the same tee he gave me to wear the night we spent together. The one I wore after the first time we had sex, while we ate shitty vending machine snacks in bed. The same one he lifted with gentle fingers, kissing up my belly, making me laugh and laugh, wishing the night could last forever.

“Ready?” He asks, unaware of how deep under my skin he’s gotten, the way the ache in my chest seems to keep spreading throughout my body.

“Yes,” I clear my throat and nod. “Let’s go.”