45. Jenna #2
I glance behind me—Jake, Aunt Leona, and our three guests, Barb, Phyllis, and Deb, are all watching with great interest. When I catch them, they all turn away and start yammering at once. “Oh, I don’t know… We’re in the middle of dinner,” I say hesitantly.
“Go on, dear!” Aunt Leona calls. “We’ll save you some pie.”
Miles bites back a grin. “They’ll save you some pie,” he murmurs, holding his hand out to me.
“Okay.” I sigh. “As long as I don’t miss out on pie.”
Miles looks at me the way he did the night he told me he loved me, and my stomach is doing backflips. He licks his lips again. “Okay, ready?”
Suddenly, I’m extremely self-conscious about the outfit I’m wearing, the state of my hair, my breath. “Should I change?” I wince.
Miles smiles again, letting out a nervous breath and shaking his head. “No. It’s just us and…I think you look beautiful.” He swallows audibly.
My face warms and my eyes water, but I blink away the tears before he sees. “Okay, let me get my coat.”
I step away from Miles and walk quickly to my bedroom, grabbing my coat from the back of the door. I spritz some perfume, put on some deodorant, and a peachy lip balm. I fluff my hair and slip into my Uggs.
I say my goodbyes to the ladies and Jake, and then Miles and I are in his car, driving slowly, like we’re on a Sunday drive. We’re quiet at first. Miles seems pensive, nervous even, and I’m looking out the window.
“Where are we going?” I ask, glancing sideways at him.
“We’re going to the beach.” Miles doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Okay,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can think of. Of course we’re going to the beach.
Five minutes later, we’re at the empty parking lot of our beach. The waves are calm, the sun is just starting to sink lower into the horizon. Miles doesn’t immediately get out of the car.
“What are we doing?” I ask, turning to face him.
Miles inhales sharply. “I have something I want to show you. I thought about blind folding you, but I was so nervous, I forgot the blind fold.” He chuckles at himself.
“Okay,” I breathe.
“So, I’d appreciate it if you’d close your eyes.” Miles unbuckles his seat belt, and I do the same. “I’ll come around and get you. Stay put.”
I don’t get to answer him—he’s on my side of the car in a matter of seconds. He opens my door and reaches a hand inside for me to take. I do, and I allow him to help me out of the car. His warm hand sends a tingle of goose bumps up my arm.
“Close your eyes,” Miles rasps.
I do as I’m told and let him lead me down the familiar terrain of the beach’s path, but we stop at the end without going further.
“Before you open your eyes, I have something to say.” Miles’s voice quivers, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Okay,” I say, surprising myself with the emotion in my own voice.
Miles takes a deep breath. “Jenna, when we met, I had no idea who you were. I didn’t even know the man who rescued me had passed away.
My parents never talk about that day. It still makes my mom cry to think about it.
So, I never brought it up. When I met you, I wasn’t interested in dating anyone—my divorce all but broke me.
It made me feel like a failure, and I just preferred not to date anyone seriously.
You changed all of that. I fell in love with you, Jenna.
I’m so deeply in love with you that it makes my chest hurt.
The thought of you leaving here without knowing how much you mean to me would have killed me. I need you to know.”
No one has ever said anything like this to me before—at least not with such raw emotion. Miles’s voice is tender, unsteady, and it unlocks something inside me that I closed off from him. I believe him and suddenly I can’t believe I spent so many weeks pushing him away.
He stops talking and takes another shuddering breath. “You can open your eyes.” We’re standing in front of the pavilion that has been on this beach for as long as I can remember. It’s a worn wooden structure with benches under it and sand practically ingrained in the concrete floor.
I blink against the afternoon light and the tears blurring my vision.
Miles gestures toward a large metal plaque at the center of the pavilion’s arch. And then I see it. My father’s name. It reads, The Nicholas Rossi Memorial Pavilion . It hits me like a wave to the chest. My knees nearly give out.
“If you’re still going to leave Cape May, I can’t let go without knowing what you—and your dad—mean to me.”
A gasp catches in my throat. “Miles,” My voice is thick with emotion. “How did you do this?”
“My dad’s a town councilman, remember? They voted on it last week.” Miles drops my hand and steps aside, revealing a fiberglass sign with my father’s picture on it and a paragraph of text.
I step forward and read it aloud, my voice trembling:
“In Memory of Nicholas Rossi
September 16, 1957 – October 22, 1997
Nicholas Rossi, a brave and selfless soul, passed away
from a heart attack after
performing a heroic rescue at Cove Beach.
His selflessness and unwavering commitment
to others will never be forgotten.
His legacy of heroism will continue
to inspire all who knew him.”
A mix of grief and gratitude crash into me.
For so long, I’ve carried this story alone—my father’s heroism, my mother’s illness.
Now it is carved here into permanence. I’m not the only one keeping our story alive anymore.
I don’t know why I didn’t see it before but Miles sees me.
He did this, not just for my dad but for me .
I don’t realize I’m crying until Miles wraps me in a tight hug from behind, pulling me into his chest and kissing the side of my head.
I whirl around to face him, and the anguish on his face mirrors my own. He tucks me under his chin.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whimper, sniffling. “You had the pavilion named after him?”
Miles sniffles too. “I did. He deserves to be remembered.”
I pull away and look up at Miles and he leans down, pressing his forehead into mine. “Thank you,” I murmur. “This means so much to me.”
“ You mean so much to me.” Miles kisses my forehead. “If your dad hadn’t rescued me, I might never have met you.”
“It feels a little like fate,” I admit, sniffling.
I’ve missed Miles so much these past few weeks—of course I have.
I assumed he’d given up after the day at my house.
Being in Cape May, rediscovering my family, sorting through old heirlooms, feeling my parents’ presence in every corner of this town—it’s given me a sort of closure I didn’t even realize I needed.
But if Miles hadn’t come for me today, I would have gone to him and begged for another chance.
Because now I know—it wasn’t just timing or coincidence.
It was something bigger. It was meant to be.
“Jenna, I love you so much. Please, please give me another chance. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you have made me these past few months.” Miles’s eyes are shiny, and he blinks back a tear.
“I love you, too,” I admit, letting my own tears fall. Miles catches one on his thumb.
“You do?” His voice quivers.
“Yes,” I say, smiling through my tears.
“Does this mean you don’t want to sell your house?” Miles asks, not bothering to hide the hope from his trembling voice. His palm finds my cheek and he meets my eyes.
“Miles,” I whisper. “Take me home.”
He kisses me deeply before scooping me into his arms and carrying me back to his car.
Home. That still sounds right.