Page 82 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

Others nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Abe,” Sophie managed, but the lump forming in her throat made it hard to say more. She nodded briefly in acknowledgment then walked out, head held high, each step carefully measured until she was safely outside.

Only then, hidden from view around the corner of the building, did she let the tears come, hot and fast, blurring her vision of the path ahead. She wished her mum was there. She wished she could call her, like she always used to, and vent down the phone. Her mum would turn up an hour later, armed with cake, and everything would feel a hundred times better. In fact, Sophie was pretty sure her mum would fly over to do the same now…if she could.

But she was gone.

And Sophie was alone.

She could still imagine her, though. So that was what she did, she tried to imagine what her mum would say. Probably something practical and slightly exasperated, delivered while putting the kettle on and rummaging through Sophie’s cupboards for proper biscuits. “Right, then, love,” she’d say, settling into the nearest chair with that no-nonsense expression she got when Sophie was spiraling. “This is the thing. He’s just a man. One man. You’ve got your books, you’ve got your shop, you’ve got a whole life you’ve built with your own two hands. Don’t go shrinking yourself down to fit into someone else’s idea of who you should be. Men come and go, darling, but a woman with her own purpose? That’s something that lasts.”

Sophie could almost hear her voice, could almost smell the Earl Grey she’d insist on making despite Sophie’s perfectly adequate tea bags. Her mum had always been fiercely practical about matters of the heart: love was lovely, but independence was everything.

She was just straightening her shoulders and hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks when she heard the familiar rumble of Luke’s voice around the corner of the café. Sophie froze, considering her escape routes. Unfortunately, the only path back to the boathouse would take her directly past where the voice was coming from.

Before she could decide on a plan B, Luke appeared with Jake. He was dressed in his usual flannel and jeans, looking frustratingly handsome despite her current feelings toward him.

Luke spotted her immediately, frowning as he took in her flushed face and glistening eyes.

“Sophie,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

She let out a laugh that sounded brittle even to her own ears. “Absolutely wonderful. Fantastic. Just had a lovely chat with your beautiful ex’s mother about how I’m ruining the historical integrity of my own property and how you’ve been complaining about my renovation choices to her daughter. Really made my afternoon.”

Luke’s face darkened. “I never—”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Sophie said, clutching her notebook tighter to her chest like armor.

Jake gestured over his shoulder. “Maybe I should—”

“Don’t worry, Jake,” Sophie said, “I won’t keep you. Go chat with Abbey, Luke, she seems much more concerned about your feelings than I am at this point. Clearly she’s the one you prefer to confide in, anyway.”

Luke’s jaw clenched. “Sophie, if you’d just—”

“Just what? Ask your permission before making decisions about my own property? Consult the Luke Rhodes Committee for Acceptable Boathouse Renovations? Maybe I should have a town hall meeting before I decide what color to paint the bathroom? You know what,” she continued, really on a rage now, “maybe I understand where Claire was coming from now. Maybe you were the one twisting her ideas. Maybe they were good ideas, but you caricatured them as they didn’t fit your vision? Maybe I get why she left.”

“Wow,” Jake said under his breath as he grimaced.

The words hit their mark. Luke’s face went blank, that careful mask of indifference sliding into place, but not before Sophie saw the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes.

“Right,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Because I’m just the ‘Harbor Hottie’ with the tools, aren’t I? Good enough to fix your leaks and pose in your background shots, but God forbid I have an actual opinion about my town.”

For a moment, Sophie almost apologized and reached for him. But then she saw Abbey approach from the café, watching them with her pretty, perfect eyes.

So she squared her shoulders and walked off, fighting hard to keep her steps measured until she was certain she was out of sight. Only then did she allow her shoulders to slump, the weight of her words settling uncomfortably.

So that was it. It was over. Maybe that was for the best. Time to focus on herself now. On the bookshop, on building the life she’d come here to create. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by a man who seemed determined to fit her into a mold she hadn’t agreed to occupy. Too much like Marcus, in the end.

Different packaging, same problem.

Thirty-Four

Luke

Three weeks since Sophie Bennett had skewered him outside Blossoms & Brew, and Luke was doing just fine. Better than fine. Hell, he was practically rejuvenated.

So why did his chest feel like someone had hollowed it out with a dull spoon?

Luke guided his tour boat into its slip quickly, earning him a startled glance from the middle-aged couple who’d hired him for a private cruise. He’d spent the entire two hours answering questions about local wildlife while his mind repeatedly wandered to the shore where a certain bookshop was taking shape without him.