Chapter 16 Eli
Eli
“Brubba, you’re actually giggling.” Piper’s voice carries that mix of amusement and disbelief that only little sisters can perfect. “I didn’t even know you could make that sound.”
“I am not giggling.” I adjust my phone, trying to sound dignified while I sort through the stack of research notes I should have worked on last night.
Instead, Rhianna had asked me if I wanted to go for a moonlit swim in the ocean and I spent the evening memorizing the way starlight glistened in her hair and the warmth of her body against mine. “I’m… expressing measured enthusiasm.”
“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.” She snorts.
Something clinks and I imagine her dropping her coffee mug to the table.
“Come on, tell me everything. Have you kissed her yet? Has she stayed over? Oh my gosh, if so did you make her breakfast? Please tell me you made breakfast—you know that fancy French toast thing you do.”
Heat creeps up my neck and I refuse to glance at the kitchen where the pan I use for French toast still rests on the counter, washed but not put away. Because I got distracted by more pleasurable things. “That’s none of your business.”
“OH MY GOD YOU DID!” Her squeal makes me hold the phone away from my ear.
“Look at you, living your best romance novel life! I’m so proud.
My unchangeable, perfectly organized brother, falling head over—” She pauses, then laughs.
“You went to Magnolia Cove to find some dusty signed book and instead you found love.”
“Can we change the subject?” But I’m smiling so wide my face hurts.
The truth is, Piper’s not wrong. I came here chasing Cyrus Whitlock’s signature, searching for meaning through bold choices in a life that suddenly felt fragile, convinced both would change my life and the former might become the crowning achievement of my academic career.
Now that feels almost trivial compared to finding Rhianna.
“It’s just… Piper, she’s incredible. She has this way of making the most mundane things fascinating.
Did you know there are nine different ways to categorize romance novels based on the protagonist’s journey?
She spent an hour explaining it to me last night and never in my life would I imagine me even thinking about the topic but…
I don’t know, Pipes. Man, and when she laughs—”
“Wow. You’ve got it so bad.” Her voice softens. “I haven’t heard you this happy in… maybe ever.”
“I know.” I sink into my desk chair and run a hand through my hair. “It’s just, I can’t stop thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her. It’s irritatingly distracting. My department head is going to be so displeased with the lack of work I’ve done this summer.”
“Oh, so you plan to come back home?”
The question lands like a physical blow, as if someone’s yanked away my chair.
My stomach drops and the warm, floaty feeling that’s carried me through the morning vanishes.
Suddenly I’m acutely aware of my surroundings—the stack of untouched notes, the grant proposal I haven’t even started, the rare book inquiries I should have sent weeks ago.
“I… well. That was always the plan.”
“Eli?” Piper’s voice is soft. “You went quiet on me.”
I thumb through papers, trying to find words that won’t make this feel more real.
“I did, didn’t I?” A weak laugh escapes me.
“Sorry, Pipes. I just… I haven’t thought about leaving.
At all. Which is bizarre. My old life is waiting just around the corner for me.
The old me would have a countdown calendar on the wall. ”
“And the new you?”
“The new me is a ridiculous sap who sings at karaoke bars and watches meteor showers in the middle of the night and is getting an unhealthily low amount of sleep.”
“Sounds like the new you is actually living a little.” Piper’s smile carries through her voice. “Who knew all it would take was a cute librarian to get you out of your head.”
“She’s not just—” I stop speaking. What I wanted to say was that she’s not just a librarian. Not just some cute girl. She’s Rhianna Wilder. She’s the moon itself, magic embodied.
But we haven’t even had a real conversation about the future yet.
“Eli?”
“Sorry, I think the connection isn’t very good. Magnolia Cove’s internet service is this side of non-existent.” I try to laugh and make it sound like a joke but it’s pitiful even to my ears. “Can I call you back later?”
“Okay, Brubba.” Her tone is low, doubtful. She doesn’t buy my excuses, but she doesn’t push it either. We hang up, and I stand there for a moment, then release a breath that echoes around the apartment.
The walk to the library feels longer than usual, the quiet streets giving me too much space to think. Two and a half months. Ten and a half weeks. Seventy-five days. How is that possible? It feels like I just got here, like I just met her. Like we’re just getting started.
I pause at the corner where Main Street meets Seabreeze Avenue, watching the morning crowd filter into The Whimsical Whisk. The thought of returning to my old life, to endless faculty meetings and rigid schedules, feels wrong now. Like trying to squeeze back into clothes I’ve outgrown.
Maybe…. Maybe I don’t have to go back, not completely. I could apply to teach virtually next semester. The internet here is abysmal—I’d probably have to rent an office space in town just to hold lectures—but it’s possible. The thought settles something in my chest, making it easier to breathe.
The truth is, my priorities have shifted. I came here seeking academic glory and a chance to live life differently for a season. Instead, I found something better. Someone better. And for the first time in my life, I want to be reckless enough to choose love over logic.
I need another bold move. Something to keep this feeling alive, to distract from the countdown ticking in my head.
To push away the fact that Rhianna still flinches away from anything permanent, hiding behind library facts and folklore stories whenever we edge too close to talking about the future.
I enter the library’s foyer and smile at the bulletin board that led me to Rhianna.
That’s when I see it—a bright yellow flyer that ripples with the breeze as the door closes.
Experience the Ultimate Adventure! Slanted, dark words splash across the top. Skydiving this Tuesday Evening!
The irony almost makes me laugh. When I first came to Magnolia Cove, this was exactly the thing I thought I’d do. Jump out of planes. Learn to surf. Climb mountains. Instead, I’ve been free-falling completely differently, terrified and exhilarated and unable to stop.
Oh god.
I’m in love with her.
A breath rushes out of me. I’m in love with Rhianna Wilder.
I’m in love with her book pun pins, with the way she plays Fleetwood Mac every single morning in her AirPods to set a positive tone for the day.
I’m in love with how she insists on carrying extra bookmarks in her bag just in case and the way she sings off-key when she thinks no one’s around.
I’m in love with the way she looks at me—like maybe, just maybe, I’m the best plot twist she’s ever read.
My hands tremble as I snatch the flyer and stride into the library, my heart pounding.
Rhianna is at her desk, sorting through returns, bopping to whatever Stevie Nicks’ song will set the right tone for this morning.
She’s pulled her hair back into a messy bun secured with a pencil and she’s wearing a cardigan covered in tiny embroidered books.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I slap the flyer down on the circulation desk.
She taps her headphones to pause the music, lifts the flyer, then looks up at me. “Skydiving?” Her nose wrinkles adorably. I want to kiss it until she laughs, until she clenches her fingers into my hair. “The Council doesn’t really trust these human-run attractions and—”
“Life’s an adventure, right?” I’m practically bouncing on my feet. “It terrifies me. Which is exactly why we should do it.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the exact second my enthusiasm infects her. A slow smile spreads across her face. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”
“I am never, ever doing that again,” I declare, still shaking slightly as we walk along the beach. My toes sink deep into the sand as if I need to remind myself that I made it safely back on land and survived. I’m not sure my brain has received the memo yet. “Ever.”
Rhianna laughs, her eyes bright and her braided hair windblown. “Are you kidding? That was amazing! The way everything looked so small, like we were on top of the world! We have to do it again.”
“Absolutely not.” But I’m laughing too. Her excitement and joy has enraptured me from the moment we met. “Once was enough to prove I’m not completely set in my ways.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She bumps her shoulder into mine then twines our hands together. “You filled out those liability forms like they were going to be archived in the Library of Congress.”
“Maybe they will be. Future historians could study them as evidence of my temporary insanity.” I squeeze her hand. Everything about our bodies touching feels natural. “Exhibit A: The day Professor Eli Lancaster willingly jumped out of a perfectly sound, functioning airplane.”
The sun sets over the water, painting everything in soft gold.
Rhianna’s skin glows in the light and I want to kiss the freckles that follow her cheekbone.
She’s changed everything. Less than three months ago, I was living life according to a carefully plotted schedule.
Now I’m jumping out of planes and falling in love and…
And I need to decide whether I’m leaving or staying before the next semester begins.
I need to tell her. We need to talk about what this means, what we want, what’s possible.
I know she’s still hesitant and I remember the terms we set.
No strings. She can walk away any time she wants.
Maybe bringing this up means risking that she will.
But I don’t want just a few more weeks with Rhianna Wilder.
I want forever. I want skydiving in the sunshine and holding her through the storms. I want every bit of glitter and laughter, every twist and turn in between.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I start, my heart thundering against my ribs. “Being with you has made me realize—”
“Come to dinner with my parents?” she blurts, too fast, like the words escaped before she could think them through.
I blink. There’s a pause—half confusion, half trying to remember how to breathe. She’s cutting me off. She’s cutting off the conversation I’ve been building toward for days.
Then it hits me. She’s inviting me to meet her parents.
She misreads the silence and barrels ahead. “I mean, you don’t have to. My parents can be a lot. My mom will definitely psychoanalyze you, and my dad will quiz you on obscure Romantic poets before you even get a bite of bread, and—”
“I want to,” I say, my voice coming out softer than I expect. “I want that, Rhianna.”
She goes still, and for a moment, the air between us tightens—not with tension, but with understanding. A shift. Something is changing.
Her fingers tremble slightly, but then she smiles, tentative and real.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I think I want that too. Let’s…
. Let’s save our big, probably-too-much-for-a-Tuesday conversation for after.
” She lifts her chin like she’s joking, but her voice wobbles just a little.
“I’ve got things to tell you too. And I need time to prepare.
Maybe make some glittery posters. Possibly a tri-fold.
So… y’know, brace yourself, Lancaster.” Then, more softly, “How does Saturday sound?”
I nod too fast and too eager because my throat suddenly feels tight with everything I don’t know how to say. “Saturday sounds perfect.”
She beams, and the lightness returns to her eyes, but I can still feel the weight of what just passed between us.
I don’t need to wait for Saturday’s conversation to know where we stand.
She’s letting me meet her parents. She’s giving me a piece of her future—even if she’s too scared to name it yet. And for me, that’s enough.
The decision is made before I even realize I’m making it.
I’m staying.
I’ll email the university tomorrow and tell them I’m transitioning to remote work through the fall. Maybe longer. Maybe for good.
This is it. The risk I took—hell, maybe bold move one, two, and three all wrapped into one—landed me here. Here in Magnolia Cove. Here with Rhianna Wilder.
And in four days, we’ll have that conversation. The big one. Possibly accompanied by glitter.
And I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it.
“Come on.” I tug her forward. “Let’s get ice cream?”
The tension in her expression washes away, her shoulders dropping. “I know the best place. How do you feel about jazz?”
I let her lead me up the beach, the setting sun glistening over her windblown curls. And as the waves roll in behind us, all I can think is: let it all come. I’m ready.