Chapter 5
Kelly
The next couple of days pass in a blur of unpacking, and the day of Patrick and Emmy’s wedding arrives quickly. Nora and I pull up to the inn in her car, its charm amplified in the soft dusk light.
It’s a two-story building, all weathered shingles and wrap-around porches. The gardens are lush, with large trees rendered in fall colors, while somewhere behind the inn, the ocean plays its endless game of tag with the shore.
I’ve never met Emmy, but I’ve known Patrick and the rest of Nora’s family since I was a kid. Nora told me that Emmy moved to Harbor’s Edge a couple of years ago to work as a live-in nurse for Nora’s grandmother, Granny Sloane. She and Patrick fell in love, and apparently the two of them are a perfect match.
“This place still looks like a postcard,” I say as my gaze traces the lines of the inn’s silhouette against the sky that’s now smeared with pastels. “I can’t believe Patrick is getting married. It feels as though we’re all just kids sometimes.”
We both get out of the car, slamming the doors one after the other. Nora grins at me. “Right? I’m not old enough to be an adult. But this is a perfect spot for a wedding. It’s so damn dreamy. Come on, let’s find Emmy—you’re going to love her. And remember, no brooding about running into ex-boyfriends tonight. This is a no-brood zone.”
“Got it. Brood-free evening.” I try to sound casual, even though my stomach does another one of those annoying flips.
I can’t believe I’ve been back in Harbor’s Edge for only a few days, and I’m already having to face the possibility of spending an entire evening in Jake’s company. Just the thought has me on edge. “You’d better keep your promise to be my buffer.”
Nora’s already taken a few steps, and she looks back, before drawing an imaginary cross over her heart, flashing me one of those brilliant Nora grins. Rolling my eyes, I follow her down the cobblestone path.
She looks amazing. Her blond hair is pinned up in loose curls and her bridesmaid dress is a deep shade of burgundy. The fabric drapes elegantly, flowing into a graceful skirt that swishes with each step.
My dress is simpler, a soft forest green with a sleeveless bodice that fits snugly, and a slightly revealing neckline. The A-line skirt falls just below the knee. I look cute, which is good. If I’m forced to see Jake tonight, even from a distance, I want to look my best.
Nora and I step inside, and the inn is just as picturesque as I remember it, with antique furnishings and rich wallpaper on the walls. I take a quick moment to scan the people already here for Jake, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
We navigate through clusters of guests who are enjoying cocktails, and I spot Nora’s mom, Ruby O’Connor, who pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek before Nora grabs my arm and tugs me away, the chatter and clinking glasses soon fading behind us. We walk down a narrow hallway and Nora knocks before we enter a room the bride and other bridesmaids have taken over.
“Kelly!” Nora’s younger sister, Riley, waves at us, her voice carrying over the buzz of excited conversation filling the room. Riley is the youngest of the O’Connor clan, in her early twenties, with sleek, straight dark brown hair and thoughtful blue eyes.
“Hey, Riles.” I pull her into a hug. Being here with these people, who’ve known me since I was a five-year-old with an oversized backpack and plaits, makes me feel better than I have in a long time.
“Let me introduce you.” Nora’s already steering me toward the epicenter of the room where Emmy stands—a vision in white, her blond hair catching the light, spun gold.
“Emmy, this is Kelly, my replacement plus-one. We’ve been best friends since forever. Kelly, meet the bride,” Nora says.
“Hi, Kelly. Thank you for coming.” Emmy’s smile is genuine, and happiness radiates off her.
“Thank you for letting me be Nora’s plus one at such short notice. I would hate to miss seeing Patrick tie the knot, especially with someone like you. Nora was right, he’s punching way above his weight. You look amazing. That dress is perfect.”
Emmy grins. “Joy, who owns the boutique on Main Street, made it. I really wanted something local. This place saved me in more ways than one.”
“There’s something special about Harbor’s Edge.”
“Blake, you remember Kelly,” Nora says, and I spot Blake Summerton, who’s noticeably pregnant, and looking as perfect as she always did, with her long red hair loose around her face. She raises a hand and waves to me from across the room.
“And this is Maddy, Emmy’s twin sister,” Nora says, continuing the introductions.
I nod at a pretty woman in a bridesmaid dress who looks very similar to Emmy. She’s fussing over a bouquet but looks up in my direction. “Nice to meet you.”
But my attention is snatched away by a little white dog zigzagging between legs and dresses, Riley chasing after him. “Stormy!” she calls out as he sprints in circles around the room. The ring bearer, if the tiny vest with a loose ribbon is any indication.
“Here, let me help.” I drop and catch Stormy as he darts past. His tail wags furiously, as if he’s just as pumped as everyone else about the wedding, and he tries to lick my face.
“Good boy.” I set him on the ground but hold him gently in place.
“Thanks.” Riley secures the rings with the ribbon attached to the dog’s vest.
I give Stormy a scratch behind the ears before letting him go. The atmosphere is light and happy, and for a moment, I let myself be carried away by it all—the joy, the anticipation, being with new friends and old.
“Hey, Kel, could you grab Emmy’s clutch from the room upstairs? She left it on the bed.” Nora glances at me from where she’s fiddling with a bobby pin in Emmy’s hair, who sits facing an antique dresser with a mirror, while Maddy applies a coat of lipstick to Emmy’s perfect pout.
“Sure thing. Where is it?”
Emmy’s reflection shoots me a grateful smile. “You’re a lifesaver, thanks. It’s in the room directly at the top of the stairs.”
I set my bag on a small velvet sofa against the wall and slip out of the room, being careful not to let Stormy out. I tap twice on the bannister at the bottom, counting the stairs, stopping with both feet on the ninth—don’t ask me why, it’s always been the ninth—where I tap again, feeling the old house’s bones settling around me.
I find the room easily enough, the door cracked open. The clutch is right there, sitting on the white duvet covering the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. But there’s a noise, rhythmic and insistent, drifting in from the balcony, and I pause.
Curiosity piqued, I move closer. The balcony door is open, an expansive view of the ocean just beyond. Stepping through the door, I’m on a big terrace balcony with a sight so breathtaking it stops me in my tracks. The ocean stretches endlessly, its surface a mosaic of rippling sunset colors—pinks, purples, and golds blending together, the sound of the waves amplified up here.
The waves shimmer beneath the fading light, rolling and crashing in rhythm as if they know they’re putting on a show. It’s a masterpiece. I step to the bannister, leaning forward, the crisp air biting at my cheeks—it’s cold, but the scene is mind-blowing, the kind that steals your breath and makes everything else fade away.
A gust of icy wind rushes off the ocean, and the balcony door slams shut with a loud bang behind me. My heart jumps, and I spin around… only to catch sight of him .
Jake Tanner.
Standing there, phone in hand, staring at me.
I haven’t seen him in over ten years, but here he is—broader now, more filled out, but still every bit as handsome as the guy who broke my heart. His dark hair is a little longer than I remember, and his jaw is covered in just enough scruff to give him a slightly rough-around-the-edges look.
And his eyes—those deep, dark eyes—lock onto mine, and something shifts in the air between us. Time has added muscle to his frame, made his shoulders wider, but there’s still something undeniably Jake about him.
“Kelly. Is that really you?” He blinks, surprise transforming his rugged features into something softer, more vulnerable.
“Hey, Jake.” His name feels strange on my lips, a song I forgot I knew the words to. Suddenly I’m flustered, heat rising up my chest despite the cold. “Uh, I didn’t mean to intrude. Just getting something for Emmy.”
“Right.” His gaze lingers before he tears his eyes away, focusing on anything but me.
“Guess I should—” I start, but the words die in my throat, swallowed by the sudden tension between us. A decade of things unsaid hangs heavy as the coastal fog that rolls off Little Egg Harbor in the winter, thick and impossible to ignore.
“Good seeing you,” I finally say.
“Likewise.” His voice is rough.
I walk to the door, reach for the handle, willing this uncomfortable reunion to be over, only to face the awful reality that sometimes things close and they just won’t be reopened, no matter how much you wish it wasn’t true.
I try to turn the handle again, but it doesn’t budge. A cold lump forms in my stomach—I jiggle the handle, harder this time, but it won’t budge. “It’s locked.” Panic laces my voice.
Jake steps forward, uncomfortably close, his brow furrowed. Stupid, stuck door. His scent hits me first—wood shavings, caramel, salt air, something that feels too familiar for comfort. My breath catches in my throat as he reaches out to give the door a try, his arm brushing against mine. The contact is electric, a spark that shoots straight through me.
I meant to avoid him tonight. And now, here we are, inches apart, the same tension simmering between us as if no time has passed at all.
My stomach twists as I stand there. It’s impossible to look at him now without remembering—how one night when we’d broken things off, he’d tried to find comfort somewhere else, with someone else. We got back together, and I thought we’d finally gotten it right, only to have my dreams of us shattered the moment I learned about Jenny, about the baby.
It’s a cruel irony, really. The right man, wrong timing—some sick joke the universe played, dangling him in front of me only to snatch him away. He was good in all the ways that mattered, but that goodness tore us apart: a man who did the right thing even when it broke my heart.
I can’t help but glance at his face—those strong, angular features. He still looks like the Jake I fell for all those years ago, but his features have sharpened and weathered. And it only makes him look even more handsome.
My pulse quickens, and I will myself to stay composed, to not let him see how his nearness affects me. But the memories flood back—of the way he’d hold me, kiss me, how he made me feel perfect, loved, and how he shattered all of that with just a few words. The hurt from that heartbreak stirs beneath the surface, mixing with the heat between us.
Jake curses softly under his breath, still focused on the door. I should step back, put some distance between us. But I can’t move. My body remembers something my mind is desperate to forget. And for one unbearable moment, I wonder if he feels it, too.
“It’s locked. I can’t get it open.”
No. Just no. I can’t be stuck up here with him.
I lean forward and bang my fist against the door. “Hey! Can someone hear us? We’re stuck out here.” I knock again, harder this time. But the band downstairs has started up, and it drowns out everything.
Jake pulls out his phone. The first call goes straight to voicemail, and the second rings and rings before cutting off. He glances at me and types out a quick text and then another. “I’ve texted a couple of the guys.” A resigned shrug. “We’ll just have to wait till someone checks their cell.”
He slips the phone into his pocket, brow furrowed.
I try banging on the door again, my heart racing with frustration, but it’s no use. It remains stubbornly shut, and the realization sinks in that no one below will hear us. For a second, I stand there, quiet dread settling in.
We’re stuck. Just the two of us.
“Great.” Laughter bubbles out, hollow in my throat as I take a step back. “Trapped. With you. How’s that for irony? The one person I was determined to avoid tonight.”
“Kelly—” His tone carries a note I can’t quite place.
“Save it. It’s freezing and my brain’s not up for puzzles, especially not the us kind.” My breath clouds white in the air between us. “Let’s just focus on getting back inside.” I wrap my arms around myself and scan the terrace for another way out.
Jake runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so frustratingly familiar it flips something in my chest. When we first started dating, another lifetime ago, he’d do it every time, right before he’d lean down and kiss me. “Any bright ideas?”
“Working on it,” I say, turning away.
But as our silent standoff stretches, I know we’re both thinking the same thing—we’re stuck out here, together, and there’s no escaping the past that’s clawing its way to the surface.