Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Cade
I didn’t say much as we left the dock. I was too angry and too worked up to trust myself to say the right things.
I kept one hand light but firm at Missy’s back, steering her away from the water and toward my truck. She moved stiffly at first, like a zombie, her shoulders tight, her eyes too alert, like she expected Levi to pop out from behind every lobster trap.
I had made sure he’d hopped in that fancy car of his and watched as he’d peeled out of the parking lot. I doubted he was coming back soon.
But I’d seen that look on Missy before. Too many times while she’d been dating Levi.
It made something ugly coil in my chest.
“Let me take you home,” I said when we reached my truck. It wasn’t a question. I could see that Levi had gotten to her because she looked drained.
I opened the door for her, but she stopped and looked up at me. “Actually…” I braced myself. “How about we get some dinner?” she asked.
That coil loosened instantly.
“Ed’s?” I asked.
Her smile flickered back to life. “That’ll work.” She climbed in and most of the tension I’d been holding since seeing Levi at the end of the dock disappeared.
Ed’s was loud in the best way. There was music playing over the clatter of plates, and the smell of melted cheese and garlic hit you the second you walked in. The place was packed, which was exactly what I suspected she needed. People. Normalcy. Noise.
We snagged a booth in the back. Missy slid in across from me, shrugged out of her jacket, and let out a long breath.
“There she is,” I said lightly. “You disappeared for a minute.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Sorry. I obviously had a brief internal meltdown.”
“Completely understandable.” I leaned back. “If it helps, Levi’s about as intimidating as overcooked spaghetti.”
That got a laugh out of her, a real laugh. The kind that sounded too good to be true. Her laughter was easily my favorite sound, right up there with the sound of waves hitting the rocks below my bedroom windows.
“He does appear to have gone a little soft,” she said.
I’d noticed. It looked like he had gained more than twenty pounds in the past half a year, none of it muscle. I hadn’t really kept track of his comings and goings since she’d broken things off with him, but my parents were always keen on gossip.
Apparently, Levi was spending a lot of time with Missy’s dad, Gerald. The duo were on the golf course together several times a month.
The waitress dropped off our menus and we ordered drinks: one soda for her, one beer for me.
I wanted to take her mind off Levi, so we talked about nothing for a while. We discussed the resort food we’d enjoyed and the goings-on in town and the people around us. Slowly, the tension melted out of her shoulders.
That’s when Todd and Olivia spotted us.
I’d done some work on their cottage out on the cape a few months back. Olivia worked at Serenity’s Attic. Todd was ex-military, and I got along great with the man.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Todd said, walking over and slapping me on my shoulder playfully. “If it isn’t Silver Cove’s most-talked-about duo.”
Olivia followed him and smiled warmly, her arm around her daughter, Simona, who was already waving at Missy like she was royalty. “Serenity’s Attic has never smelled sweeter since you opened up shop. I hear things went smooth this morning.”
Missy lit up. “Yes, I’ve heard that as well.” Missy turned to the little girl and asked. “How did your school play go?”
Simona launched into a detailed story about how she had been a cupcake in the play and how her sprinkles were made of glitter while Olivia laughed apologetically.
Todd clapped me on the shoulder again when our pie arrived. “I’ll call you next week about a new project I’ve been thinking of in the garage.”
“Sounds good,” I said smoothly.
They left behind warmth and the comfort of friendly conversations. Missy looked around the busy room and said, “I hadn’t realized how much I would enjoy this,” she said quietly. “Being known by everyone in town. Knowing everyone as well.” She laughed.
I watched her take a bite of pizza, and she smiled like the weight of the earlier conflict had completely loosened.
Several other townspeople stopped by to chat with them. They all knew Missy and talked about how much they appreciated her bakery. I knew more than a handful of them and handed out a few of my business cards to a few new people after Missy introduced me.
When we finally stepped back outside, the sky had darkened and the streetlights were flickering on one by one.
I opened the truck door for her. “Home?”
She hesitated and took a deep breath. “Actually… would you show me the progress you’ve made on your house?”
The question landed heavier than it should have.
“You sure?” I asked. “It’s still a mess.”
She smiled. “So am I.”
That did it.
“Sure,” I said. I shut the door once she climbed in.
As I pulled away from the curb, heading toward my place instead of hers, I had the strangest, quietest thought settle in my chest:
This might be the start of something.
Or the end of pretending it wasn’t already there.
I pulled onto my street and slowed, nerves hitting me in a way they never did when I came home alone.
My house sat a little back from the last road along a small cove. It backed up to the water, but was still in town. The front porch lights were casting a warm glow across the restored clapboard siding that I’d installed the first week after I’d moved in.
I’d stripped the old paint last week during a hot wave and had repainted it a soft, weathered white that felt right for a coastal Maine home.
The color was classic, quiet, and didn’t look like I was trying too hard.
The wraparound porch was still bare except for a couple of rocking chairs that I’d salvaged and refinished in my garage when the weather was bad during the winter.
Missy leaned forward slightly in her seat. “Wow,” she said softly. “You’ve really fixed up the outside.”
“I painted and put up a few shutters,” I explained. I’d painted the shutters a deep royal blue, which somehow made the house feel more like a home.
“Come inside but be aware that I may apologize for everything that’s still unfinished,” I warned, killing the engine to my truck.
The second I opened the front door, the scent of wood hit us.
The old carpet was long gone, showcasing the refurbished wide-plank hardwood floors that stretched from the entry through the living room and into the dining space. I’d sanded them down myself, stained them a rich honey brown, then sealed them until they gleamed.
Missy stepped inside and stopped dead.
“Oh my gosh,” she breathed. “Cade… these floors. Are they new or the original?”
“Original,” I answered, trying, and failing, to sound casual. “They were just hiding under fifty years of bad decisions,” I joked. “The tile in the entryway too. I still have a few minor repairs to do there, but they’re looking much better.”
She laughed, bending slightly to run her hand over the wood. “It’s so beautiful.”
That word did something stupid to my chest.
I led her through the living room first. The fireplace took center stage. The stonework that had been a bitch to rebuild from the ground up practically gleamed now. So did the old mantle that I’d restored and refinished. I’d kept every scar I could, every mark that told of the home’s real age.
“Did you rebuilt this?” she asked, running a finger over it.
“Yeah. It was crumbling. I figured if I was going to fix it, I might as well do it right.” I shrugged. “There’s another one in the master bedroom. It’s the same style.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Apparently, fireplaces were the original flex in homes back then. They’re great during the winter nights around here though.”
She nodded. “There’s one in my place. I love them.”
We moved into the kitchen, which was… a work in progress. The new cabinets weren’t finished yet, but the frames were up, raw wood waiting for doors, which I was building myself out in the garage. The old countertops were gone and replaced temporarily with plywood until the granite arrived.
“The new granite is coming soon.” I showed her the sample of what I’d picked.
She leaned against the island frame, looking down at the sample. “I can already see it. What color will the cabinets be?”
“The uppers I’ll paint a cream.” I pulled out the sample that I’d chosen. “The lower ones, royal blue to match the shutters outside. I’m trying to keep with a theme.”
“I love it. It’s going to be amazing.” She glanced around and I could tell she was imagining it in her mind. “I’m so impressed that you’re doing everything all by yourself.”
“Mostly,” I admitted. “Except the countertop installation. I respect my limits.”
She laughed, then glanced down the hall. “Show me the rest.”
Down the hallway was the formal dining room, a small powder room, and the room I was going to turn into my office.
There was a full wall of built-in bookshelves that I wanted to refurbish, and I would possibly add a desk to match.
I even thought about adding a window seat in the bay window that overlooked the side yard and the Atlantic beyond.
I had yet to start working on any of these spaces, aside from their floors.
At the front of the house was a larger living room with a small sofa and TV set that I used as a temporary relaxation zone.
I took her upstairs, pointing out little things as we went—the rebuilt stair railings, the way I’d reinforced the steps so they didn’t creak like they were fresh out of a horror movie soundtrack.
Besides the floors and the mechanics of the house, upstairs is where I’d spent the most time and effort so far. The master bedroom was the first room that I’d finished, and I finally had real furniture in it and, most importantly, a real bed.
She paused in the doorway. “This is all so nice. You’re almost ready for your feature in Better Homes and Gardens,” she teased.
I grinned. I still had a few touches left to finish, but all the hard work was done. “Mock me all you want, but it’s getting there,” I joked.
She laughed and slapped my shoulder. “It’s much better than last time I was here. I remember that you were sleeping on an air mattress,” she said, eyes dancing. “I think you said that it tried to kill you.”
“Twice. I woke up on the floor more than once. I’m officially done with that phase of my life.”
The fireplace here mirrored the one downstairs, throwing warmth into the space even unlit. The walls were still bare, but the bones were good.
“Show me the bathrooms?” she asked.
“My bathroom’s completely done,” I said proudly. “The second one up here is tiled but still needs fixtures.”
I opened the door to the master bath and watched her reaction.
She didn’t disappoint and gasped with excitement.
The floor was tiled in soft gray stone. The subtle marbling caught the light, making it shine.
The shower was glassed in and tiled from floor-to-ceiling with a mix of white and slate tiles.
A classic rainfall shower head was mounted overhead.
And beside the frosted window, where the light poured in during the day, sat a restored clawfoot bathtub.
Its white porcelain gleamed like new, as did the brushed nickel feet.
“Oh, Cade,” she breathed. “This is… incredible.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I wanted it to feel… solid. Calm. Like you could breathe in here.”
She turned to me slowly. “You nailed it.”
“Yeah.”
“You built yourself a home,” she said softly.
The way she said it, like it mattered, made something shift in me.
We stood there a moment with the quiet of the house surrounding us. Everything was warm and real and still unfinished in the best way.
“Well,” I said lightly, breaking the silence, “I would’ve shown you the place sooner, but I didn’t want you judging me for living like a feral raccoon.”
She laughed, the sound easing something tight in my chest. “You’re not feral. Just… unfinished.”
I smiled. “Guess we have that in common.”
She turned to me, her eyes running over my face for a split second.
“Cade.” Her voice was low. “I don’t want to go home.”
My eyebrows shot up. I was about to tell her she could sleep in my bed and offer to take the sofa downstairs, but then she moved toward me and my brain came into focus and her words registered.