Chapter 9 #2
They sat in a booth near the back—navy cushions, a wooden table etched with the faint outline of a compass.
She folded her napkin again, steadying herself.
“One of the things I’ve always encouraged my dad to do is partner with local hotels—provide in-room coffee, branded café in the lobby, maybe even run a corner shop inside.
We already have the name recognition and quality. I thought, why not start here?”
“That’s smart,” John said, leaning forward. “Profitable and visibility-friendly.”
His expression shifted to something that looked like deeply impressed. “We did something similar with Harbor & Hearth in Seattle. Created a signature guest experience and boosted visibility.”
“I knew you’d get it,” she said, smiling. “I’ve pitched it more than once, but my dad’s never seemed interested.”
“You clearly know what you’re doing. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t implemented something like this already.”
She shrugged. “He’s amazing, but he doesn’t always think outside the cup.”
That made him laugh.
For a moment, the café faded away, and it felt just like it used to—comfortable, easy.
Then John tilted his head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why this place?” he asked, motioning around them. “Besides the hotel angle.”
She hesitated. “I guess because it reminds me of…possibilities.”
John’s eyes softened. “You were always good at chasing those.”
Zoe smiled, but it was faint. “I don’t know about that. Sometimes I think I just got really good at starting over.”
A beat of quiet passed.
“I remember that event you did at The Riley,” John said. “Rooftop setup with string lights and the jazz trio. It was…flawless.”
“You remember that?”
He nodded. “Didn’t they offer you a promotion afterward?”
“Yeah,” she said, tracing a finger along the edge of her water glass. “But after everything blew up, I needed a change of scene. Honestly, I just wanted to get away from anything that reminded me of Erik—no offense.”
“None taken.”
“Good Hope’s always been a refuge. A soft place to land, even when I was a kid. It still is.”
“If you’re serious about pitching a partnership to the Bayshore,” he said, “I can help you put together a proposal. Hotels love turnkey brand experiences.”
Her heart thudded, not just from his words, but from the way he looked at her. As if he’d always believed in her. Even when she hadn’t believed in herself.
“You’ve really paid attention,” she said softly.
“I always have.” Then, after a pause, he added, “You’re passionate about this work, Zoe. You light up when you talk about it. I honestly can’t imagine you ever walking away from it.”
Her smile faltered. “Why would you think I would?”
“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly uncertain. “Back in Austin, Erik told me you were going to quit your job to be a full-time wife, to start a family right away.”
Zoe blinked. “What? No. I mean, yes—I want a family someday—but that was never the plan. I told him I had goals. I even showed him my five-year projection with the company. Why would he say that?”
John’s jaw flexed. “Erik often hears what he wants to hear.”
Zoe exhaled, leaning back. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Maybe I didn’t stand up for myself the way I should have.”
“No,” John said quietly. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist yourself into knots trying to fix what wasn’t yours to fix.”
She met his gaze, and something flickered between them.
“I guess I thought if I could just learn from it, maybe next time I’d be better. A better partner. A better communicator. Just…better.”
John frowned. “You think you were the problem?”
She gave a half shrug. “I think I had things to learn. I still do. But that doesn’t make me unworthy. Just means I’ll be more prepared next time.”
His voice was low, steady. “Zoe, you were never unworthy. You’ve always been smart, kind, beautiful, funny…someone who really sees people. You don’t need to change to be a good partner. You already are.”
His words wrapped around her like a balm—warm, unexpected and more healing than he could know.
She looked at him, really looked at him. He’d always been steady. Reliable. Kind. But now…he was also looking at her like she was the best part of his day.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he added softly. “And not just because of the Daily Grind.”
Her heart skipped.
“You’re a better man than he ever was,” she said before she could stop herself. “You always were.”
He reached for his drink, clearly trying to shift the mood, but the energy between them had changed, warmer now, more charged.
“What made you ask me to dinner tonight?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“I couldn’t not,” he said simply. “I’ve been wanting to for a while. I just…didn’t know how to make it not weird.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Well, showing up in that shirt helped.”
He grinned. “So it’s working?”
She laughed, and the tension eased, melting into something that felt like possibility.
When their food arrived, they didn’t rush. They lingered. Talked shop. Laughed. And somewhere between shared appetizers and stories about her dad trying to install an espresso machine himself, she realized something.
This wasn’t just a dinner.
It was a beginning.
After dinner, John drove Zoe home and insisted on walking her to the door. The night air was warm, tinged with the scent of flowers and freshly mown grass. They strolled in easy silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.
When they reached her front step, Zoe turned to face him. The porch light cast a soft glow, catching in John’s hair, his eyes. She looked up at him then, really looked, into eyes steady and sure, holding a warmth that made her feel seen in a way that went deep beneath the surface.
He took a step closer. “I had a really nice time tonight.”
She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me, too.”
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then John reached up, almost hesitantly, and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered, warm against her skin.
Her heart beat a little faster.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
Their lips met gently—tentative, soft, a quiet question wrapped in the warmth of something long overdue. The kiss was brief but real, stirring something deep in her chest that made her feel both fragile and whole at the same time.
When he pulled back, he searched her eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, too.”
Zoe smiled, surprised by how genuine the moment felt, unguarded, unforced. “I hadn’t let myself think about it,” she admitted. “But now that it’s happened…”
He waited, hope flickering just beneath the surface.
“I’m glad,” she said simply.
They stood there for a moment longer, close enough to feel each other’s breath, the air between them humming with possibility.
She didn’t have this all figured out—not by a long shot. But standing here, she was willing to give it a chance.