Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
G rant woke before dawn, the soft sound of waves carrying through his bedroom window. February had brought milder temperatures, but the morning air still held a chill as he made his way to the kitchen. The house felt quiet. It always did in the early hours before Charlotte and Milo's usual visit.
He started the coffee maker, his eyes drawn to the framed photograph on his counter. It was a picture of the Carroway Building caught in early morning light, Charlotte's first shot on the island. She'd given it to him after the celebration at The Roasted Bean, and something about seeing it each morning made his house feel more like home.
While the coffee brewed, Grant pulled out the cranberry scones he'd picked up the evening before. Charlotte was coming over for breakfast, and though they'd shared countless meals since that first Valentine's Day, today felt special. A quiet celebration of everything that had changed in the past few weeks.
Cup in hand, Grant headed to his workshop. The carved frame he'd been working on sat on his bench, nearly complete. He ran his fingers over the detailed edges. Oak leaves and small flowers echoed the ones in Miss Doris's garden. The photo it would hold showed Charlotte and him at the coffee shop, caught in a moment of shared laughter. Miss Doris had captured it perfectly. Charlotte's head was thrown back, his eyes fixed on her face, both of them radiating joy.
The sound of a car door slamming shot made him smile. Right on time.
"Morning!" Charlotte called from the driveway. She carried a basket that smelled suspiciously like Miss Doris's famous cinnamon rolls. Behind her, Milo bounded up the path, tail wagging furiously at the sight of Grant. "Don't get too excited. I just helped with the mixing."
"Still better than my attempts at baking." Grant met them at the workshop door, greeting Milo with a quick pat before pulling Charlotte close for a kiss that tasted like coffee and winter air.
"Mm." She smiled against his mouth. "Good morning to you too."
Milo circled their legs impatiently until Charlotte crouched to unleash him. He immediately began exploring the workshop, nose twitching at the various wood scents, while they settled into their usual spots. Charlotte was perched on the edge of his workbench, he sat in his chair. Morning sun streamed through the windows, catching dust motes and the brass fixtures Grant was restoring for the Thompson house.
"How's the boathouse project coming along?" Charlotte asked, breaking a cinnamon roll in half and passing him the bigger portion.
"Good. Foundation's more solid than I thought. Jacob's drawing up plans for the studio space now." He watched her face light up at the mention of their shared project. "Thought we could start the real work once the weather warms up."
"Perfect timing. The historical society wants me to document the whole restoration process." She licked icing from her fingers, and Grant's heart did that familiar flip in his chest. "Sort of a before-and-after series."
"Looking forward to having you on site." He reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. "Though you're a terrible distraction."
"Me?" She affected an innocent look. "I'm completely professional."
"Sure you are." He tugged her closer, until she slid off the workbench and into his lap. "Very professional."
Charlotte's laugh filled the workshop as he pressed kisses along her jaw. "What happened to breakfast?"
"It can wait." But Milo chose that moment to drop his new favorite toy, an old piece of rope, at their feet, making them both chuckle.
"Someone's feeling neglected," Charlotte said, reaching down to toss the rope across the workshop. Milo bounded after it, tail wagging.
Grant watched them, warmth spreading through his chest. Just weeks ago, this workshop had been his private space, filled with tools and projects but empty of the kind of life Charlotte and Milo brought to it. Now it felt different. Everything was fuller, warmer, and felt more like the home he'd always wanted it to be.
"I have something for you," he said, reaching behind him for the carved frame.
Charlotte's breath caught as she traced the detailed carvings. "Grant, this is beautiful."
"Thought that photo deserved a proper home." He watched her face as she studied his work. "Like its subject."
She set the frame carefully aside before kissing him properly, her fingers threading through his hair. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright. "I love you."
It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but the words still made his heart race. "Love you too."
They finished their breakfast as the sun climbed higher, trading stories and plans for the day ahead. Charlotte had a meeting with the historical society, and Grant needed to finish the Thompson house fixtures. But they'd meet for lunch at Mary's, as they had almost every day since Valentine's.
Some might call it routine, Grant thought, watching Charlotte gather her things for work. But to him, it felt like the opposite. It felt like every day brought something new to discover, some new way to fall in love with her.
"Don't forget dinner at Miss Doris's tonight," Charlotte called as she headed for her car, Milo trotting at her heels. "She's teaching me her secret cornbread recipe."
Grant smiled, already looking forward to it.
The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across Palmar Island's beach as Grant and Charlotte walked along the shoreline. Milo trotted ahead, occasionally darting back to check on them before racing off again to investigate interesting smells.
"We could take that trip to Charleston in April," Charlotte was saying, her hand warm in his. "The historical society wants photos of some restoration projects there, and you mentioned wanting to see their preservation techniques."
"Mixing business with pleasure?" Grant pulled her closer as a cool breeze swept in from the water.
"Always." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Besides, you're the one who kept pointing out architectural details during our last date night."
"Speaking of details..." Grant stopped walking, turning her gently toward the water. "Look at how the light's hitting those waves. Reminds me of that shot you took at Miller's Cove."
Charlotte's laugh was soft and warm. "Now who's the artist?"
"Must be your influence." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head as they watched the sunset paint the water in shades of gold and pink. "You've changed how I see everything."
Later, back at his house, they settled on the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. The fire crackled in the hearth, and Milo had claimed his favorite spot on the rug nearby.
"I have something for you," Charlotte said, reaching for her bag. She pulled out a leather-bound book, clearly handmade. “Let’s call it a late Valentine’s gift.”
Grant opened it carefully. The first page held a photograph of the Carroway Building, the place where they'd met. Below it, Charlotte had written, "Where our story began."
"You kept track of everything," he said softly, turning pages. There were photos of their lighthouse adventure, pressed flowers from Indigo Bluff, even a napkin from Novel Sips with a coffee stain in the shape of a heart.
"Miss Doris helped," Charlotte admitted. "She had some snapshots I didn't even know existed."
Grant paused at a candid shot of himself working in his workshop, completely focused on a piece of wood he was carving. "When did you take this?"
"The day you started my Valentine's gift. Not that I knew that’s what you were doing." She touched the image gently. "You were so absorbed in your work, you didn't even notice me."
"I always notice you." He set the book aside carefully. "Which reminds me..." He retrieved the carved frame from his workshop, suddenly nervous despite their comfortable intimacy. "It's not as elaborate as your gift, but?—"
"It's perfect." Charlotte traced the carved flowers with her fingertips. "Just like the creator."
"Hardly perfect." But he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just lucky enough to find someone who sees the best in everything. Even grumpy carpenters who interrogate photographers."
"You weren't that grumpy." She settled against his chest, her familiar weight grounding him. "Though you did look pretty serious until Milo got involved."
As if hearing his name, Milo lifted his head and gave a soft woof before going back to sleep.
"Smart dog," Grant murmured. "Knew what I needed before I did."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire dance. Charlotte's breathing grew steady and deep, and Grant realized she was close to falling asleep.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Mm?"
"Thank you for staying. For making this place even more of a home than it was before."
She turned in his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. "Thank you for giving me a reason to stop running."
Grant held her close, breathing in the moment. Outside, waves lapped at the shore and stars wheeled overhead. But everything that mattered was right here—the woman in his arms, the dog at their feet, and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they all belonged.
Some stories, he was learning, didn't need dramatic endings. Sometimes the most beautiful ending was really a beginning—as simple and profound as finding your way home to the heart that was waiting for yours all along.