CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
That evening, after the girls were in bed and the rest of the house was settled in for the night, Emily and Daniel sat shoulder to shoulder on the front porch swing, the two of them rocking under the creak-creak, creak-creak of the chains overhead.
Emily could still feel the adrenaline from the call with Jamie Marsh this afternoon—how, the moment after the offer was submitted, she’d felt herself a little overwhelmed by it all.
But now that the decision was real, she felt oddly relaxed, as if every nerve had been pressed through a sieve, but that had only left her loose and untangled.
Daniel shifted beside her, stretching his legs and flexing his bare feet against the slatted porch floor. His hair was still damp from his post-dinner shower. His face was relaxed.
Emily rested one hand on her belly, palm splayed just above the elastic of her leggings and watched the light from the lantern over the porch paint Daniel’s profile in amber and shadow.
Every time the beam of the lighthouse swept past, she saw his jaw flex, the line of his mouth softens.
He must have felt her watching. Without turning, he reached over and found her hand, entwining their fingers.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said, voice low. “You feeling dizzy? Or thinking about Roy?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. He’s fine. He was asleep before he finished dinner, it seems.”
Daniel smiled, just a notch. “He needs it.”
“I was thinking about New York,” she said. “When I left.”
“That’s a long time ago.”
“Feels like yesterday,” she replied.
She let herself tumble back, the city’s energy rising in her memory. Even the good moments—nights with the windows flung open, the air alive with car horns and the sounds of people on the streets at all hours—had an edge to them, a needling sense that you had to keep moving or risk being trampled.
She could see herself in that first apartment.
She’d worked insane hours trying to climb the ranks in marketing, and then realized she was hollowing herself out for a future she’d never wanted.
A future that Ben, then her boyfriend and not Madison’s husband, had no interest in giving her.
And that was okay. She remembered throwing her high heels and suit jacket out the window of the car on her drive here.
And that drive had been a fever dream. One that had ended here, at the old inn, the one that would become her everything. She’d just sat there, watching the surf batter the headland, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.
Daniel squeezed her hand. “You miss it?”
Emily shook her head, her voice gone wobbly. “I miss the idea of it, maybe. In the city, you could always convince yourself there was something better around the corner if you just waited. Here, you have to build it yourself. And we have.”
“Do you remember when I first saw the inside of the inn?” she asked.
He grinned. “It was a dump.”
“A total dump,” she agreed. “And you hated me.”
Daniel laughed, the sound so familiar it made her chest ache. “Eh, I was short-sighted. Actually, we were both idiots.”
“But we made it work. Even when everyone said we were insane. Even when we called each other insane.”
Daniel’s expression gentled. “You never let go. I think that’s your superpower.”
She thought about that—the stubbornness, the refusal to be told no. Her mother had always called it “dog with a bone syndrome,” and had insisted it was a trait she shared with Roy. But there were worse things to inherit.
“I took another leap when I came here,” she said, and now her voice dropped, softer. “It was you.”
Daniel snorted. “I was the easy part. But maybe just as much a fixer upper.”
“You weren’t, actually.” The words threatened to tangle in her closing throat, but she pushed them out anyway.
“You were the scariest part. Trusting someone after Ben let me down. After my father abandoned us. After my relationship with Patricia growing up, even as a young adult. We just clashed. It was hard letting someone all the way in. I never wanted to be… dependent.”
“You’re not dependent,” he said, and there was no doubt in it. “We choose each other, every day.”
“I know,” she said. “But I wanted to be sure. That I wouldn’t lose myself in the process.”
“Have you?” he asked, and the question was more honest than most people would have dared be with her. Because, prior to Daniel, she would have closed off at the words.
She considered the woman who she’d been in New York, compared to the one who’d dragged a mattress up three flights of stairs in the half-renovated inn to save a setup fee when there just was no money for a setup fee.
Then, there was the now her. The one sitting with a hand on her belly and a future mapped out in front of her.
“No,” she said. “Not even a little.”
He smiled, looking smitten. “Then it was worth it.”
The porch swing rocked on, slow and steady. The tide was on its way back in. Emily could hear it battering at the stones below the bluff.
Daniel leaned his head back over the swing edge. “You’re thinking about it.”
“The lighthouse?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know how not to.”
It had been a reckless kind of courage, that offer. Not unlike the inn. Not unlike leaving New York. Not unlike loving him. As if summoned by the conversation, Daniel’s phone vibrated hard against the wooden arm of the swing.
They both stilled, and Daniel glanced at the screen.
“Jamie Marsh,” he said.
Emily’s stomach dropped. Her pulse began to pound so loudly she could hear it in her ears. “Answer it. Answer it!”
He swiped to accept. “Jamie? Hey.”
There was a beat. Then Daniel sat up straighter.
“Okay,” he said carefully. “Okay.”
Emily could hear Jamie’s voice faintly through the speaker, brisk, the kind of tone that meant business had already been decided.
“Yes, she’s right here,” Daniel said, and then he put the phone on speaker.
“Evening, Emily,” Jamie’s voice carried across the porch.
“Sorry to call so late, but I figured you’d want to know.
We reviewed your bid this afternoon,” Jamie continued.
“The council voted unanimously. You’re serious about preservation.
About community access. About keeping the structure intact. That matters a lot to Sunset Harbor.”
Emily realized she wasn’t breathing.
“Your bid for the lighthouse has been accepted.”
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Wait,” Daniel said, almost sounding dazed. “You mean—”
“I mean,” Jamie cut in gently, “it’s yours. Provided we sign the papers and finalize everything legal for the ownership transfer, of course. If you can come down to the municipal office tomorrow morning, we’ll get the particulars squared away.”
Tomorrow.
“We’ll be there,” she managed, her voice shaky. “First thing.”
“Good,” Jamie said. “Congratulations, Emily. Daniel. I think you’re exactly what that place needs.”
The line clicked off. For a moment, neither Emily or Daniel moved. Then Daniel turned to her slowly, as if afraid the truth might vanish if he spoke too fast. “Did that just happen?”
“I think so.”
Daniel pulled Emily into him, one arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist. The swing jerked wildly as they collided, chains squealing overhead.
“We bought a lighthouse,” he said into her hair, joyous, sounding half astonished.
“We bought a lighthouse,” she echoed.
In New York, she had always chased the idea that something better might be around the corner.
Here, on this porch, with this man and their sleeping girls and their messy, imperfect, beautiful family inside, Emily realized they weren’t waiting for better to find them.
They were building it.