Epilogue
DELILAH
One Year Later
Istand in the doorway of The Fiction Nook breathing vanilla candles, letting the scent calm my racing heart.
Three days in Twin Waves, and I’m still adjusting to the fact that this is home now.
That Mom’s florist shop—my florist shop—sits across the street from here.
That I’ve left everything familiar behind for a fresh start in a town where I know exactly one person.
And that person is currently living in Florida, enjoying her well-earned retirement.
“Welcome to The Fiction Nook!” A woman with warm auburn hair looks up from behind the counter, her smile genuine. “Are you looking for anything specific, or just browsing?”
“Both?” I manage, moving farther into the room. “I’m new to town. Just taking inventory of the neighborhood.”
“Oh, wonderful! Welcome to Twin Waves.” She comes around the counter, extending her hand. “I’m Jessica. I own the shop.”
“Delilah.” I shake her hand, noticing the wedding ring that catches the afternoon light. “I’m taking over Petals & Promises.”
Jessica’s eyes light up. “Mrs. Smart’s flower shop! I heard she was retiring. You’re her daughter?”
“Guilty. She’s been trying to get me to move here for years. Finally wore me down.” I try to make it sound light, casual. Not like I’m running from a life that’s fallen apart spectacularly.
“Well, we’re thrilled to have you. Twin Waves has a way of becoming home faster than you’d expect.” Jessica gestures around herself. “So, are you a reader?”
“Obsessively.” I move toward the Romance section like a magnet pulls me there. “Mom always teases me about having my nose in a book instead of living my own love story.”
Understanding flashes across Jessica’s face. “I know that feeling. Sometimes books feel safer than real life.”
“Exactly.” I run my fingers along the spines from beloved authors. “Real life is messier and more painful.”
“But also more real.” A man emerges from a back room, carrying a stack of books. He’s tall, handsome in an intellectual way, with dark hair and kind eyes. “Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing. I’m Scott.”
“My husband,” Jessica adds, and the look they exchange makes my chest ache with longing. “And local romance author. So we’re both biased about books versus reality.”
“You’re V. Langley?” I blink at Scott. “Oh wow. I’ve read all your books. The early ones are incredible. And Honest Hearts—” I stop, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m fangirling.”
Scott laughs. “Never apologize for that. Jessica taught me that readers who love books are the best kind of people.”
“He’s biased because I’m a reader,” Jessica says, but her smile is radiant.
“Don’t let her fool you. She’s an author too. Her first book comes out next month.”
“Oh, congratulations!” I say.
I watch them, the easy affection, the inside jokes, the way they orbit each other naturally. A year ago, I had something like that. Or I thought I had, before everything imploded.
“So, Delilah,” Jessica says, pulling me from my thoughts. “What kind of romance are you in the mood for? Enemies to lovers? Second chance? Small town?”
“Second chance,” I say before I can think better of it.
Jessica’s knowing look suggests she hears more than I’ve said.
“I have the perfect recommendation.” She moves to a display, selecting a book with a blue cover.
“This one’s set in a coastal town. Heroine inherits her grandmother’s bakery, moves home after years away, and runs into her high school sweetheart who never left. ”
My hands tremble slightly as I take the book. “Does it have a happy ending?”
“All the best romances do. Even the ones where you think it’s impossible.” Jessica’s voice is gentle. “Sometimes the second chance is even better than the first. Because you’re not the same people anymore.”
I clutch the book like a lifeline. “I hope you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. I’m living it.” She gestures to Scott, who’s helping another customer. “Trust me, second chances can be pretty spectacular when you’re brave enough to take them.”
We chat for a few more minutes—about the shop, the town, the best coffee, Twin Waves Brewing Co., apparently. Jessica makes me feel welcome in a way I haven’t felt in months. Maybe Mom has been right about Twin Waves being the perfect place to start over.
As I head toward the register with my book and three others I’ve somehow accumulated, Jessica stops me.
“Hey, this might be forward, but we have a book club. Bookaholics Anonymous.” She pulls out a card with the details. “We’re always looking for new members. And we’re a pretty welcoming group.”
“I don’t know...” I hesitate. “I’m not great with new people.”
Jessica’s smile is encouraging. “No pressure. But if you want to come, we’d love to have you. Next meeting is Thursday night at seven. My place.”
I take the card, studying it. Friends who love stories as much as I do. It sounds terrifying and perfect simultaneously.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise.
“That’s all I ask.” Jessica rings up my books. “And, Delilah? Welcome to Twin Waves. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in perfectly here.”
Thursday arrives faster than I expect. I spend the morning unpacking boxes in the apartment above Petals & Promises, the afternoon reorganizing the shop’s inventory, and the evening staring at my closet trying to decide what one wears to a book club in a small coastal town.
I settle on jeans and a soft sleeveless top—casual but put-together. The kind of outfit that says “I’m friendly” without screaming “I’m desperately lonely and hoping you’ll like me.”
The address on the card takes me out to a long oyster-shell driveway. Nestled among tall Spanish-moss covered oaks is a darling cottage, right on the coastline.
Jessica answers the door. “Hey, girl! Come on in.”
My stomach flutters as I enter a warm, cozy living room with heart pine floors and a soft blue area rug, book clutched in my hands. A group of women around my age are arranged in comfortable chairs around a low table covered in coffee cups and what looks like homemade cookies.
Jessica leads me to an empty armchair. “Everyone, this is Delilah Smart. She’s taking over Petals & Promises.”
A chorus of welcomes greets me. Jessica makes introductions quickly.
“That’s Hazel—she’s our fearless leader and has four daughters, so she’s basically survived everything.”
A warm-faced woman with auburn hair and kind eyes smiles. “Welcome, honey. Grab a seat. We were just about to start.”
“Amber owns the restaurant The Salty Pearl near your shop,” Jessica continues. “She’ll keep you fed and happy.”
“Jo owns Driftwood and Dreams, the boutique on the boardwalk. She joined book club last year.”
Jo waves. “These ladies are dangerous matchmakers. Consider yourself warned.”
“And that’s Caroline. We finally convinced her to join after she graduated from college and landed her dream job with Reed Development Corp focusing on sustainable development in coastal areas.”
“Michelle over here owns Twin Waves Brewing Co and is married to one of Caroline’s bosses, Grayson. And my husband, Scott, is his business partner,” Jessica adds, settling into a chair beside Scott, who’s appeared with fresh coffee, “who crashes our meetings when we’re discussing his books.”
“Which is often,” Scott says, kissing Jessica’s temple before sitting beside her. “Since I’m married to the best book reviewer in North Carolina.”
The easy affection between them makes my heart ache and hope simultaneously. This—this community, this warmth, this found family—is exactly what I need.
“So, Delilah,” Hazel says, pouring me coffee from a carafe. “Tell us about yourself. What brings you to Twin Waves?”
I wrap my hands around the warm mug. “My mom owned the florist shop. She’s retiring, and I’m taking over.”
“Are you from here originally?” Amber asks.
“When I was little, but then my parents divorced and I lived with my dad in Asheville. But Mom’s been in Twin Waves for twenty years.
I just...never visited much.” The lie tastes bitter, but the truth is too complicated.
That I’ve avoided Twin Waves like it holds ghosts.
That coming here means facing a past I’ve spent a decade running from.
“What made you decide to move now?” Jo’s question is gentle, curious.
I take a breath. “I needed a fresh start. After my divorce.”
The table goes quiet for a moment—not awkward, but compassionate. Like they all understand what those words cost.
“This is a good town for fresh starts,” Michelle says, appearing with a tray of pastries. “And second chances, just ask Hazel. And occasionally third chances when you’re really stubborn about it.”
Everyone laughs, and the tension eases.
“Are you looking forward to running the shop?” Jessica asks.
“I am. I grew up around flowers. Mom taught me everything.” I smile, thinking of childhood afternoons in her old shop in Asheville. “I love the language of flowers. The symbolism. The way you can say things with blooms that you can’t say with words.”
“That’s beautiful,” Caroline says. “So romantic.”
“Which brings us to tonight’s discussion,” Hazel announces. “We’re talking about second chance romances. What makes them work? What makes them believable?”
I feel everyone’s attention shift, but not in an uncomfortable way. More like they’re including me in something important.
“I think the key is growth,” Jo says thoughtfully. “Both characters have to have changed enough that the same problems won’t destroy them again.”
“But not so much that they’re unrecognizable,” Amber adds. “The core of who they were—what made them fall in love the first time—has to still be there.”
“What do you think, Delilah?” Hazel asks.
I consider the question, Scott and Jessica watching me with interest. “I think second chance romances feel more earned than first-time love stories. The couple has history. They’ve hurt each other.
They know each other’s worst qualities. And choosing to love someone despite all that, because of all that—it feels more real. ”