Page 172 of Neap & Spring

“In Westerly Point. I want to stay.” The words are coming faster now, spilling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve been thinking about it for three days. Longer than that, really. Ever since I got here. And I keep trying to come up with reasons why I shouldn’t. Why it’s too risky or too fast or too complicated. But I can’t. Because this” — I gesture around the tiny bathroom, at the cottage falling apart outside, at him sitting here tending to my cuts like they’re the most important thing in the world — “this feels like home.” I laugh. “For the first time in years, something feels like home.”

His breath catches audibly, and his hands flex on my waist.

“Not just the place,” I continue quickly, needing him to understand all of what I’m saying. “The people. Your family and how they just welcomed me like I was always supposed to be a part of it. Sunday dinners with everyone talking over each other and your dad telling stories and the twins arguing and Wesley pretending to be annoyed.”

I’m crying now, but I can’t stop. Now that the words are tumbling out, I don’t know if I could stop even if I tried.

“Frannie getting excited about literally everything. Cora’s deadpan commentary. Roman’s terrible jokes. Iris and her books and the way she listens to everyone like every word matters. Sloane and her plans for the fishing business and how she’s trying so hard to honor her dad while making it her own. The whole town showing up for that dinner like your success was their success.”

I cup his face in my hands, making sure he hears every word and sees the truth in my eyes.

“And you,” I whisper. “Especially you. I love you so much. I love the way you cook like you’re having a conversation with the food. I love the way you talk about this place like it’s part of you. I love the way you looked at me after I told you about Stellan and you didn’t see someone broken. You saw someone strong. Someone brave. Someone worth loving.”

“You are brave,” he says, his voice rough. “You are so worthy of love.”

“I love waking up to the ocean,” I continue, the words just tumbling out. “I love walking down Main Street and people knowing my name. I love working in the restaurant with you.” I pause and take a shaky breath. “I love all of it. And I don’t want to walk away from it just because it scares me how much I want it.”

“Vivienne —”

“I know the cottage is month-to-month. Assuming there is anything left of the cottage after this,” I interrupt. I have to get the words out before I overthink them. “And I know I don’t have a job here lined up. I know there are a thousand logistical things to figure out, and I know staying means —”

“Stay,” he cuts in, and his voice is fierce now and almost desperate. His hands come up to frame my face, mirroring my position. “Please stay.”

“Really?”

“We’ll figure out the rest. The job, the living situation, all of it.” He’s talking fast now, like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind if he doesn’t get all the words out fast enough. “You could keep consulting if you want. Or you could work with me at the restaurant. Not just consulting but actually working there. We could build it into something even better together. Or you could do something completely different. Fish with Wesley! Work at the cafe! Do anything you want. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closing.

“Just please stay,” he almost whimpers. “Stay and have coffee with Margo, and dinner with Iris, and business meetings with Sloane. Come to every Sunday dinner. Stay and argue with me and work with me and —”

His voice breaks, and he has to stop to take a breath, composing himself.

“Stay and let me love you,” he finally manages. “Let me love you the way I’ve wanted to forever. The way I should have been loving you all along.”

Tears are streaming down my face. “Okay.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Okay?”

“Okay.” I nod aggressively, smiling through the tears. “I’ll stay. I’m staying.”

For a second, he just stares at me like he can’t quite believe it. Then the smile that breaks across his face is like the sun coming out after days of rain. It transforms his whole face, and he looks younger and lighter in seconds.

He pulls me down into a kiss that’s so joyful and so full of promise. His arms wrap completely around me, holding me so tight I can barely breathe, like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.

When our lips finally break apart, we’re both crying and laughing and holding each other like we’re afraid to let go.

“I can’t believe you’re staying,” he says against my hair, his voice muffled.

“I can’t believe the debt is gone.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. In my arms. In Westerly Point.”

“I can’t believe you drove through that storm to get to me.”

He pulls back enough to look at me, and his face shifts to something very serious.

“Listen to me,” he says, his hands coming up to cup my face and hold me steady. “I need you to understand something.”