Chapter 7
They laughed, and it broke the tension without destroying the connection. They hiked back down together, hands occasionally brushing, occasionally holding, learning this new rhythm between them.
By the time they reached their vehicles, the sun was painting the sky in watercolors, and Dylan felt fundamentally changed, like something frozen had finally begun to thaw.
“Monday’s going to be interesting,” Aidan said.
“We’re adults. We’re professionals. We can handle it.”
“Right. While the entire town watches and speculates and my mother starts planning our wedding.”
“She wouldn’t—” Dylan stopped at his expression. “She would.”
“She’s probably already chosen flowers.”
They stood by their vehicles, neither ready to leave this bubble where kissing in ruins made perfect sense.
“Next Saturday,” Aidan said. “The cemetery. We’ll find the next clue.”
“And then?”
“Then we figure out what comes next. The restoration shop, the partnership, us. All of it.”
Dylan drove home through streets painted gold by dying light, her lips still tingling from the kiss, her mind spinning with implications. In two months, she’d have her own restoration shop. In a week, they’d search a cemetery for clues about a ring that had crossed oceans and centuries.