Epilogue
Charlotte
Palmar Island, one year later…
Spring had come early to Palmar Island, painting the landscape in soft greens and filling the air with the scent of sea grass and blooming jasmine. Charlotte smiled as Grant's truck wound along the familiar path to Miller's Cove, Milo's head hanging out the window.
A year. It seemed impossible that only a year had passed since she'd first driven onto the island, camera in hand and deadline looming. Now every bend in the road held a memory. There was the hardware store where Milo had led her to Grant, the marina where they'd shared early morning coffee, Indigo Bluff where she'd begun to realize she was falling in love.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Grant asked, his hand warm on her knee.
"Just thinking about how much has changed." She covered his hand with hers. "The boathouse renovation is almost done."
"Thanks to your excellent supervision."
"You mean my excellent photography." She grinned. "The historical society loves the documentation series."
"The whole island loves your work." His thumb traced circles on her knee. "Miss Doris says your photos of her garden should be in magazines."
They pulled into the clearing near the cove, and Milo was out of the truck before Charlotte could grab his leash. But he'd grown more reliable over the past year, waiting at the trailhead while Grant retrieved something from behind his seat.
"A picnic?" Charlotte asked, spotting the familiar basket.
"Thought we could recreate that evening." He shouldered the basket, taking her hand. "Though hopefully without Milo finding quite so many crabs to chase."
The dog gave an indignant woof but fell into step beside them as they walked the trail to the cove. The late afternoon sun filtered through new spring leaves, creating patterns on the path that begged to be photographed. But for once, Charlotte's camera stayed in its bag.
When they reached the cove, her breath caught. Someone—Miss Doris, probably—had scattered fresh flowers along the path to their usual spot. A blanket was already spread out, anchored by shells and pieces of sea glass they'd collected over the past year.
"You planned this," she said softly.
"Guilty." Grant set down the basket and pulled her close. "Remember the first time we came here?"
"Of course." She leaned into him, breathing in the familiar scent of sawdust and coffee that clung to his shirt. "You gave me the tokens. Made me realize I'd found my home."
"And have you?" His voice was quiet. "Found your home?"
Charlotte turned in his arms. "You know I have. The studio space in the boathouse, my work with the historical society, Sunday dinners with Miss Doris..." She touched his cheek. "You. You're my home, Grant Lawson."
He smiled, but she caught a flash of nervousness in his eyes. "Good. Because..." He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a small wooden box, similar to the one from last Valentine's Day but more intricately carved. "I have something for you."
Charlotte's heart thundered as she opened it. Inside, nestled on blue velvet and scattered with rose petals, lay a single brass token. The engraving caught the sunlight: "Forever Home."
"Charlotte." Grant's voice was rough with emotion as he took her hands in his. "This past year has been the best of my life. Watching you photograph old buildings like you're discovering buried treasure. Seeing you charm the whole island, even Kenny at the hardware store." He smiled. "Finding your coffee cups in my kitchen and your camera gear in my workshop. Everything about you fits. Like you were always meant to be here."
He reached into the box, brushing aside the rose petals, and pulled out a ring. The design was simple but beautiful—a vintage-style setting that reminded her of the historic metalwork they both loved.
"I don't want to just share a home with you," he continued. "I want to build a life with you. Restore old buildings and take new photographs and make every day an adventure." He took a shaky breath. "Charlotte Bennett, will you marry me?"
Tears blurred her vision as she nodded. "Yes," she managed. "Yes, of course yes."
The ring slid perfectly onto her finger, and then Grant was kissing her, tasting of joy and promise and forever. Milo, unable to contain his excitement, jumped up between them, covering them both in sandy paw prints and enthusiastic kisses.
"You planned this whole thing," Charlotte laughed, wiping happy tears from her cheeks.
"Had some help." Grant pulled her close again. "Miss Doris picked the flowers. Mitch packed your favorite tea in the thermos. Even Milo kept the secret."
The dog wagged his tail at his name, then flopped down beside them as they settled on the blanket. Charlotte couldn't stop looking at her ring, the way it caught the light like one of Grant's brass tokens.
"Forever home," she read again, touching the token in its box. "I love it. Love you."
"Love you too." Grant pressed a kiss to her temple. "Ready to start our next adventure?"
Charlotte looked out over the water, then back at the man beside her. At Milo, who had brought them together. At the ring that promised a future filled with more moments like this one.
She thought of all the places she'd traveled, all the beautiful things she'd photographed. None of them compared to this—the simple joy of saying yes to forever with the person who had helped her find her way home.
"Ready," she said, and kissed him again as the spring sun painted their world in shades of gold.
Some journeys, Charlotte realized, weren't about the destination at all. They were about finding the person who made every place feel like home. And she had finally, beautifully, found hers.
Thanks so much for reading Charlotte and Grant’s story. If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love Meet Me On The Beach, my gift to you.