12. Prue
CHAPTER TWELVE
PRUE
I wake to sunlight streaming through Fox's curtains and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. For a moment, I lie there, savoring the pleasant ache in my muscles, the rumpled sheets still warm from our bodies.
When I pad into the kitchen, Fox is at the stove, shirtless in his jeans, flipping what looks like the most perfect blueberry waffles I've ever seen.
"Morning," I say, wrapping my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his warm back.
"Morning, beautiful." He turns, spatula in hand, to kiss my forehead. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than okay." I steal a blueberry from the bowl beside him, popping it into my mouth. "I didn't know you could cook so well. First lasagna and now, blueberry waffles from scratch."
"Fourth generation baker's son, remember? Some things are in the blood." He slides a plate toward me, stacked with waffles. "Fair warning: my waffles have been known to cause spontaneous marriage proposals."
I nearly choke on my coffee. "Is that right?"
His eyes crinkle with amusement. "Just stating facts. Consider yourself warned."
After breakfast, I head to the shower and change before meeting Cilla. As I drive through Cedar Bay's quaint streets, I'm struck by how the town seems different somehow—warmer, more inviting. Or maybe I'm the one who's different––transformed.
I find Cilla waiting at The Lighthouse Café, her laptop open and papers spread across the table. She's so engrossed that she doesn't notice me until I'm beside her.
"Earth to dissertation girl," I say, waving a hand in front of her face.
She jumps, then breaks into a grin. "Prue! Sorry, I was finishing something." She closes her laptop and studies my face. "You look... different. Good different."
"Do I?" I slide into the chair across her, hoping my cheeks aren't as flushed as they feel.
"Hmm." She narrows her eyes. "Either you won the lottery, or Fox has been showing you a good time."
"Cilla!" I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one heard. "Can you not announce my sex life to the entire café?"
"Oh, hush up." She rolls her eyes. "You’re two consenting adults. Besides, everyone in this town knows your business sooner or later."
"Just lower your voice." I can't even pretend to be mad. "Speaking of sex, how are things going with you and Rowan?"
Her entire face transforms, lighting up from within. "Prue, I think I'm in love with him. Like, seriously, in love."
"Wow." I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. "That's... big."
"I know it's fast, but it feels right?" She fiddles with her straw wrapper. "And it's not just him. It's this whole place. I was thinking... maybe after I finish my dissertation, I might stay in Cedar Bay."
"Stay? As in, live here permanently?" I try to keep the surprise from my voice.
"I know it sounds crazy. I mean, I'm a city girl through and through. But there's something about this town..." She gestures vaguely toward the window, where we can see the harbor in the distance. "It gets under your skin."
"What about your job offers in San Francisco? The research position at Berkeley?"
She shrugs. "I can do research anywhere. Rowan's business is here, and his whole life is rooted in this community. I don't want to ask him to leave that."
I take a sip of my water, digesting this. "You've fallen for this place, huh?"
"Don't look so shocked, " she laughs. "You, of all people, should understand the appeal." A tight-knit community, knowing your neighbors, raising kids somewhere they can play outside without constant supervision..."
"Kids?" My eyebrows shoot up. "Are you...?"
"No!" She laughs again. "God, no. I'm thinking about the future, I guess."
"I'm happy for you, Cil. Really." And I am, even if I'm still processing the idea of my cosmopolitan sister settling down in small-town Oregon. "I have to admit, Cedar Bay does have a certain charm."
"See? Even you feel it." She leans forward eagerly. "Imagine raising a family here, Prue. There is no traffic, great schools, and community events where everyone knows your name. It's like something out of a movie but real."
"I love Seattle," I say automatically, but even as the words leave my mouth, I picture little dark-haired children with Fox's eyes running along the shore, building sandcastles while we watch from a blanket. The image comes so easily that it startles me.
"But?" Cilla prompts, always able to read between my lines.
"But I can see the appeal," I admit. "Of Cedar Bay. Of putting down roots somewhere like this."
"Oh my God." Her eyes widen. "Fox has gotten to you, too."
"It's not—we're just—" I stammer, then sigh. "It's early days, Cil. We're taking baby steps."
"Baby steps toward babies?" she teases.
"Stop." I throw a napkin at her. "One day at a time, remember? That's my motto now."
"Fine, fine." She holds up her hands in surrender. "But just so you know, if you did decide to relocate, I wouldn't hate having my big sister nearby."
The thought warms me more than I expected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I have clients, a business, a life in Seattle."
"And Fox has a life here," she points out gently. "Sooner or later, one of you will have to compromise."
She's right, of course. The geographical issue looms large, a conversation Fox and I have carefully avoided. But sitting here, watching boats bob in the harbor, breathing in the salt-tinged air, I can't help but wonder if compromise might be easier than I thought.
"One day at a time," I repeat, more to myself than to Cilla. "For now, I'm just enjoying the ride."
"Well, from the glow on your face, I'd say it's quite a ride," she says with a wink.
I feel my cheeks heat up again. "Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?"
But as Cilla launches into a story about her department politics, part of my mind stays fixed on the possibility that has quietly taken root inside me—a future I never expected to want in a place I never expected to belong.
"Fine, fine," Cilla laughs, picking up her coffee. "But you should know, I'm fully prepared to be the cool aunt who spoils your future children rotten."
"You're impossible," I mutter, but I can't help smiling.
Our server arrives with our lunch—a Cobb salad for me and Cilla's usual turkey club—providing a welcome distraction from my sister's matchmaking.
As we eat, I notice how at ease Cilla seems here, greeting other patrons by name and exchanging pleasantries with our server about her dog's recent surgery.
She's integrated into this community in a way I wouldn't have thought possible six months ago.
"So," I say, changing the subject, "how's the dissertation coming along? Still on track to finish by spring?"
Cilla's eyes light up the way they always do when discussing her research. "I think so. My advisor loved my last chapter. She thinks I have a solid contribution to the history of the"
"Look at you, all academic and impressive."
"Says the woman whose design was just featured in Seattle Home Magazine."
I wave her off. "That was just a small spread."
"Don't downplay it. It's a big deal." She points her fork at me. "You've built something special with your business, Prue."
"Thanks." I push a cherry tomato around my plate. "I've been thinking about taking on another partner. The workload is getting to be a lot."
"Really? That's a huge step for you. It took a lot for you to trust Rory with your precious business."
"I know. Me, sharing control—who would've thought?"
Cilla gives me a knowing look. "Sounds like someone's learning to let other people in."
"Maybe," I concede. "Or maybe I'm just tired of working sixty-hour weeks."
After lunch, Cilla suggests we walk along the waterfront. The August air is surprisingly crisp but not yet bitter, perfect for strolling. We pass families flying kites, couples walking hand-in-hand, tourists snapping photos of the lighthouse.
"I went whale watching with Rowan a few weeks ago," Cilla says, her voice animated. "We saw a pod of orcas—it was incredible, Prue. They were so close to the boat."
"You and your orca obsession." I bump her shoulder affectionately. "I remember when Mom and Dad took us to that marine park, and you refused to leave the orca tank."
"I was five! And they're magnificent creatures." She pauses, watching the horizon. "Rowan's talking about getting his boat certified for tours. Says I've given him the idea."
"Sounds like you two are making plans."
"Small ones." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gives me a goofy smile. "It's scary how easy it is with him, you know? Like I don't have to try so hard to be understood."
I think of Fox and how he seems to read my moods without me saying a word. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
We stop at a bench overlooking the bay. In the distance, fishing boats are returning with their day's catch, seagulls swooping overhead.
"Mom called yesterday," Cilla says after a moment. "She wants to know if we're both coming home for Thanksgiving."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I wasn't sure yet. Rowan's invited me to spend it with his family." She looks at me sideways. "Would you hate me if I stayed here?"
"Of course not." I squeeze her hand. "But Mom might disown you."
"I think you could come here instead. Bring Fox to meet the family?"
I nearly choke. "Meet the parents? We've been dating for like five minutes."
"It’s practically two months. That’s hardly five minutes. And it doesn't have to be a big deal." She shrugs. "Just an idea."
The thought of Fox and my father discussing military history over turkey, my mother interrogating him about his intentions—it's simultaneously terrifying and oddly appealing.
"I'll think about it," I say, which is more than I would have offered a week ago.
We walk back to our cars, and I find myself scanning the construction site across the street, wondering if Fox made a trip to work after all. As if summoned by my thoughts, I spot him emerging from the building, safety helmet in hand, deep in conversation with one of his workers.
Cilla follows my gaze and smirks. "Go say hi. I need to get back to my research anyway."
"I don't want to bother him at work?—"
"Please. If you asked, the man would probably build you a house with his bare hands." She hugs me goodbye. "Call me later?"
After she drives off, I hesitate momentarily, then cross the street. Fox spots me halfway there, his serious expression melting into a smile that makes my stomach flip.
"This is a nice surprise," he says when I reach him.
"I was having lunch with Cilla." I gesture vaguely toward the café. "Thought I'd say hello before heading back to your place."
He glances at his watch. "Give me five minutes to wrap this up, and I’ll join you.”
I nod, watching as he returns to his colleague, pointing at something on a blueprint. There's something captivating about seeing him in his element—confident, authoritative, respected. When he returns, he sheds his work vest and rolls up his sleeves.
"Walk with me?" he asks, and I fall into step beside him.
"How's the project going?"
"On schedule, surprisingly." His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining naturally. "How was lunch with your sister?"
"Good. Enlightening." I pause. "She's thinking of staying in Cedar Bay permanently."
"Yeah, Rowan mentioned they've been talking about it."
"It's strange to think of her settling down here. She's always been such a city person."
Fox glances at me. "People change. Find things they never knew they wanted."
There's a weight to his words that makes my pulse quicken. We stop at the edge of the harbor, watching the boats.
"Cilla mentioned Thanksgiving," I say carefully. "She's thinking of staying here, spending it with Rowan's family."
"And you?"
"I usually go home to San Francisco, but..." I take a deep breath. "She suggested I might come here instead. Bring you to meet my parents, if they make the trip north."
As soon as the words emerge, I regret bringing it up. "It's way too soon, I know. Forget I said anything."
"Prue." His voice is soft. "I'd love to meet your parents."
"You would?"
"Of course." He turns to face me fully. "I want to know everything about you. Where you come from and who shaped the woman who drives me wild."
Something expands in my chest. "It wouldn't be too much pressure? Does that violate our baby steps rule?"
"Meeting the parents is always pressure." He smiles wryly. "But if it means I get to spend the holiday with you, I'm in. And that’s your rule, darling. Not mine."
I step closer, resting my hands on his chest. "You're kind of amazing, you know that?"
"I have my moments." He leans down to kiss me, softly at first, then with growing intensity until I'm breathless.
When we part, I see something in his eyes—a certainty, a promise—that both thrills and terrifies me. Cedar Bay stretches around us, picturesque and inviting, and for the first time, I allow myself to imagine what it might be like to call it home.