Chapter 31
Knox
Shadow launches off the arm of the couch like she’s auditioning for the Feline Olympics. Stripe bolts after her, tail high, skidding across the hardwood until he crashes into the coffee table leg. A pen rolls off and clatters to the floor, followed by the remote.
“Unbelievable.” I crouch to collect the wreckage. “When did you two become menaces?”
Stripe stares up at me, wide-eyed and unapologetic, while Shadow swipes at my bare foot, tail flicking like she’s daring me to stop her.
Cami would usually be here laughing, narrating their chaos like she’s commentating the Kitten Bowl.
But the house feels different today. Lonely.
The infamous Trouble Triplets scooped her up this morning for a spa day and late lunch. The last thing I heard before the door shut was Cami’s half-hearted protest and Millie’s promise to “return her glowing and hydrated.”
That was four hours ago. Which leaves me here with two hyperactive kittens and my own thoughts. Not the safest combination.
I sink onto the couch, Stripe immediately pouncing into my lap while Shadow bats a ribbon—where the hell did she get that?—across the floor. Sunlight glints off the dark blue water, and the late-August breeze carries that sticky sweetness that only shows up when summer starts thinking about ending.
It’s been one week since Vermont, since goodbyes on the porch and the drive back to Crystal Cove, which somehow felt shorter than it should have. And still, every time I catch myself picturing the future, Cami’s there, too.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting me back to now. Mont’s name flashes across the screen.
I hesitate, thumb hovering. We’ve exchanged a few work messages since I got back, mostly business, nothing personal. But right now, I could use the distraction.
I swipe to answer and lean back against the couch. “Mont.”
“Hey,” he booms, big and unmistakably Mont. “Wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”
“Still breathing.” I glance at Stripe, who’s now batting at my sleeve. “Visited my grandparents and my mom. My grandpa fell and hurt his hip.”
“That’s dangerous,” he says. “Hope he’s okay?”
A low chuckle slips out as I rub a hand over my jaw. “Yeah. Almost one hundred percent back to his feisty self.”
Mont clears his throat. “So…have you fallen yet?”
The question strikes like a dart to the ribs.
I shove a hand through my hair. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
A deep, knowing laugh rumbles through the speaker. “You’re the one who told me this thing felt different. Usually when a man says that, it means he’s already halfway gone.”
I rub the back of my neck, eyes on two menaces now sprawled across the rug. “Maybe I’m all the way gone. I told her I love her.”
“Ah.” The word stretches into static. “And did she say it back?”
My shoulders drop. “No. She smiled—the smile that makes me forget oxygen’s a thing—but, yeah. No words.”
He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. That’s what I like about Mont. He lets things hang until they mean something.
Finally, he answers, gentle but firm. “She heard you. Sometimes that’s enough. Women don’t always say it when they feel it. They say it when they’re ready for what comes after.”
“What do you mean, ready for what comes after?” I glance toward the window, light spilling across the floorboards.
“Maybe for her, the after is when this summer thing morphs into real life.”
Leaning back, I stare at the ceiling. “We’ve avoided real life. That was the deal.”
“Deals change.”
A dry laugh escapes me. “She’s younger, Mont. Eleven years younger. I didn’t think about that at first, but lately…”
“You’re worried you’re robbing her of something?”
“Maybe. Or that I’m too far ahead in life, and she’ll get tired of trying to keep up.”
“Listen.” His tone drops. “You wanna know how old Nora was when I met her?”
I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “No. But I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”
“She was barely twenty. Temporary receptionist at the firm. Smart, quick with a comeback, and so damn beautiful, I forgot my own name.”
A grin tugs at my mouth. “Sounds familiar.”
“I was forty,” he continues. “Knew better than to mix business with temptation. But she was impossible to ignore. I took her to lunch to talk about her career aspirations. Told myself that’s all it was.
Next thing I knew, we were having dinner, and she was telling me about her kid, Frankie, barely a year old, wobbling like a penguin.
Ex bailed when Nora was four months pregnant.
Claimed he didn’t want to be tied down.”
I go still, listening harder.
“She was struggling,” he says quietly. “Doing it all on her own. By the time we got serious, I couldn’t imagine life without both of them. Married Nora a year later. Adopted Frankie two months after that.” A soft chuckle fills my ear. “Biggest risk I ever took, best decision I ever made.”
Something tugs deep in my chest. “Guess you know a thing or two about age gaps, then.”
“I know they don’t matter if you’re both walking in the same direction. The question is—are you?”
My thumb traces the seam of the couch cushion. “Maybe. This whole thing started as a fling, but lately, I’ve been thinking past it. Past summer. Past work.”
A low hum of amusement rolls through the line. “Past work? That’s a first.”
“Yeah.” I glance out the window again, where sunlight ripples across the water.
“Been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe too much. I keep wondering what it would feel like to slow down, take on less. I’m getting tired of measuring my life in spreadsheets and airports.
Thinking about just focusing on my rental empire. ”
Mont exhales slowly, a sound that means he understands. “You’ve earned the right to step back a little. In fact…” There’s a soft intake of breath, like he’s measuring his next words. “You know Frankie’s coming on board. Can you do the mentor thing till the end of this year?”
A smile edges into my voice. “You trying to pawn your protégé off on me?”
“Call it delegating. You’re a patient teacher, and Frankie could use someone who’s not afraid to push. What do you think?”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Sure. I’ll mentor, stick around till the end of the year.”
“Perfect.” Static hums between us for a beat, which means he’s about to turn serious. “And, hey, don’t overthink shit. If it’s meant to be, she’ll say those three words. Just make sure you’re still around when she’s ready.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, buying myself a second to breathe. “Yeah. I’ll try.”
Later that evening, after the kittens are asleep in their playpen, curled together like they’ve never known chaos, Cami and I lie nose to nose, tangled in sheets warmed with the clean scent of our shared body wash.
Steam still clings to the room, a lunar haze catching on bare skin.
“Two more weeks before summer ends.” I trace a slow path down her arm. “I’m going to miss our nightly rituals.”
She smiles against my mouth. “You mean tiny-terrorist chaos, shower sex, and more sex?”
“That,” I whisper, “and this—you, me, pillow talk, and cuddles before we drift off to sleep.”
For a beat, neither of us speaks, the ocean humming through the cracked window, lazy and constant.
“Have you decided what to do with the penthouse?” she asks.
“Gonna sell it.” My gaze drifts toward the window where moonlight cuts across her still-glistening skin. “Feels like the last thing tying me to a life I don’t want anymore.”
“And what life do you want?”
A life that includes you is what I want to tell her.
Instead, I let out a slow breath, the truth hovering behind it. “One that doesn’t feel like waiting for something to end.”
Blue eyes probe mine, quiet understanding flickering in them. “Maybe endings aren’t always bad.”
“Maybe not.” I hold her gaze, my pulse steady but loud in my ears. “But I’m starting to think some things aren’t meant to end.”
Neither of us looks away until her gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes, a slow breath catching between us.
“So…what happens after?”
I swallow hard. “After summer?”
She nods once, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.”
I shift close enough to feel her breath on my chin. “You’ll go back to New York, start your new job. I’ll deal with the penthouse, wrap up a few things for work.” I pause, then quietly add, “And pretend I’m fine with that.”
Her lips curve, just shy of a smile. “But you’re not?”
“Not even close. Are you?”
She studies me for a long moment, then shakes her head. “Not at all. So…what do we do?” Her question breaks on a breath, and so does my heart.
“We leave here as planned. Keep our bubble phones. No pressure, no promises we can’t keep. Just…there if we need them.”
Her laugh is full of disbelief and affection. “You mean we use the phones like some sort of lifeline? An SOS?”
“Like a real-life switch,” I say. “Something we already have, available to flip on if you’re ready to take us out of the summer bubble and cross over into the real world.”
She tilts her head, considering it. “A bubble switch.”
“Yep.” I smile. “It’s simple. Off means goodbye. On means us, crossing that bridge into real life. As long as you keep yours charged…”
Her nose scrunches, the cutest smile tugging at her mouth. “You make it sound like I’m terrible at keeping it charged.”
“Well, aren’t you?” I tease, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “It’s always at ten percent.”
“I’ve gotten better at keeping phones charged since England.” She laughs quietly, eyes glinting in the low light. “What about the kittens? Whatever happens, they shouldn’t be separated.”
I think for a moment, the sound of the waves and our breathing filling the room.
“You’re flying. I’m driving. I can take them with me to New York.
Once you’re settled, you can bubble-text me, and I’ll bring them to you or have them dropped off, no strings, if that’s what you decide.
” I exhale. “They belong with you. They always did. Found in Millie’s attic under your house-sitting watch.
Wanda literally picked you to be their mom from the start.
” A smirk tugs at my mouth. “I’m just the bonus guy who helped make it happen. ”
She blinks slowly, lashes damp, the corners of her mouth tugging somewhere between a smile and surrender. I can see her turning it over—what I said, what it means.
“They didn’t just pick me,” she says, barely above a whisper. “They picked us. But you are right about being the bonus guy. You’re my bonus guy.”
Her words hit somewhere deep, knocking the air right out of me. I huff a quiet laugh because if I don’t, I’ll probably say something I can’t take back.
“Best title I’ve ever had.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Even better than ‘cat whisperer.’”
Cami’s smile lingers as her eyes flutter closed, the corners of her mouth curving like she’s still holding the thought. Within minutes, her breathing slows, syncing with the steady pulse of the waves outside.
I lie here, watching her, wishing I could freeze time. Because if the world stopped right now, I’d be fine with it.