Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Morning came in softly.
Mac noticed it before she opened her eyes—the muted light filtering through the curtains, the sound of a gull somewhere near the water, the steady warmth beside her. Not tentative anymore. Not something she was expecting to disappear.
Connor was awake, propped on one elbow, watching her like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or let the quiet keep holding them.
She smiled without opening her eyes. “You’re staring.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Wasn’t trying to be subtle.”
She rolled onto her side, facing him. The ordinary comfort of it loosened her chest.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
No weight behind it. No carefulness.
Just morning.
They lay there for a few seconds longer, neither rushing to define the moment. Connor finally broke the quiet.
“So,” he said. “What does today look like?”
She considered the question—not because it was complicated, but because she was learning to answer honestly.
“I have a call with the production team this afternoon,” she said. “Just logistics. Schedule. Prep work.”
He nodded. No flinch. No recalibration.
“And then?” he asked.
“And then I promised Bella I’d help her test desserts for a fundraiser,” Mac said. “Which I suspect is Bella’s way of tricking me into cooking.”
“That tracks.”
She reached out, tracing the seam of his T-shirt absently. “What about you?”
“I told Callum I’d help him move some equipment at the marina,” he said. “And I need to call the landlord I was speaking with in Seattle. Let her know I’m not ready to decide yet.”
She looked up at him then—not searching, just present.
“I’m glad I know.”
He met her gaze. “Telling each other stuff is what we do now.”
It struck her how different this felt from the conversations she’d rehearsed in her head for years—heavy with timing and restraint.
Just shared information. Shared space.
They eventually got up, dressing without ceremony. Connor handed her a mug of coffee, already prepared the way she liked it. She noticed, but didn’t comment. She was learning to let care land without translating it into obligation.
They stepped outside together. Good Hope was waking in its usual way—doors opening, footsteps on sidewalks, a breeze lifting the flags strung across Main Street.
At the end of the block, they slowed without planning to.
Connor glanced at her. “Walk with me?”
She smiled. “I already am.”
They took the longer route toward the square, the fountain coming into view between storefronts. The statues stood as they always did—Gladys, Ruby, Katherine—unchanged, patient, quietly observant.
Mac stopped.
Connor did, too, following her gaze.
“Do you think they get tired of watching people circle the same questions?” she asked.
“Probably,” he said. “But I think they like it when people finally ask better ones.”
She stepped closer to the fountain, not ceremoniously. Just…intentionally.
“I didn’t realize how often I chose to be alone because it felt safer than needing someone,” she said. “Not because I didn’t want someone with me—but because I didn’t trust that wanting them wouldn’t cost me myself.”
Connor stayed where he was.
“And now?” he asked.
“And now,” she said, turning back to him, “I trust that I can want you without shrinking. Without performing.”
His breath left him slowly.
“And I can want you without trying to get ahead of it,” he said. “Without trying to turn it into something I control.”
She smiled. “Looks like we’re learning the same thing.”
“From different sides.”
She stepped into him.
He looked down at her, waiting.
If she wanted this, it was hers to start.
She closed the distance and kissed him.
Not like she was proving something.
Not like she was asking to be reassured.
Like she was done holding herself at a careful distance.
When she pulled back, he rested his forehead lightly against hers.
“We’re doing this?” he murmured.
She didn’t hesitate. “We are.”
“Together?”
“Together,” she said.
They stood there for a moment longer, then she held out her hand.
“Come on,” she said.
He laughed and took it easily.
As they walked away from the fountain, Mac felt quiet certainty take hold.
For the first time, steady didn’t feel like settling.
Connor’s fingers tightened around hers as they crossed the square together.