Chapter 10
The Pelican Pub was louder tonight than it had been on Cooper’s previous visit.
An eager, restless energy vibrated through the worn floorboards.
He stood in the back, shadowed by a support beam, a glass of untouched lager sweating in his hand.
He felt like a ghost haunting his own life.
Since the blow-up in Scarlett’s office, he had spent three days alternately staring at the changing marsh and the Ohio contract, the terms appearing colder and more clinical with every passing hour.
He had approached the situation like he did everything else: as an analytical mathematician.
Numbers had always been his strength and his comfort.
He’d seen the offer as an opportunity to solve Scarlett’s stagnant career.
On some level, he felt he owed her that much for keeping their baby and raising her.
Clearly, she disagreed. And standing here in the crowded pub, his mistakes were painfully obvious.
Providership and partnership weren’t the only variables that made a life beautiful.
And he sure as hell didn’t need to fix a woman who was whole.
Hurting her had been awful and he wished he could hit rewind for a do-over. But he hadn’t given up. He dug in, did his homework, and tonight he had what might be his last chance. He couldn’t blow it.
“And now,” Reed announced, adjusting the mic, “we have a special treat. One of our youngest local talents, Jamie Thorne, performing a piece he’s been working on with his teacher.”
Cooper straightened. He remembered Jamie from Scarlett’s cottage—the boy with the thumb that liked to peek over the neck like a spy.
Jamie stepped onto the stage, looking small and terrified behind a three-quarter-size acoustic guitar.
But when Scarlett joined him, his shoulders relaxed.
When they were settled, Cooper caught the slight movement as Scarlett leaned over and whispered encouragement.
Jamie grinned, his gaze dropping to the guitar as if he didn’t want to see the crowd.
The love and pride radiating from her were so palpable that Cooper felt a sharp, agonizing pang of regret. He had accused her of settling for a safe life. He’d never been more wrong.
As Jamie began to play—a crisp, rhythmic folk melody—Cooper watched the truth unfold.
Scarlett hadn’t just built a life; she had built a legacy.
She was teaching children to find their voices, to take up space, to understand the harmony in the chaos.
She wasn’t a footnote in Brookwell’s history; she was the rhythm section.
Scarlett joined in and the duet hooked the crowd. Every face was on them.
Jamie finished with a flourish, his face splitting into a wide grin as the pub erupted in applause. He leaped off the stool and gave Scarlett a high five and a fierce hug before he dashed off to celebrate with his parents.
Scarlett watched him from the stage for a moment, covertly knuckling away a stray tear. She looked lonely, even in the middle of a celebration. Shifting, she adjusted her guitar strap over her shoulder and glanced toward the exit, as if she would rather be anywhere else.
Cooper was moving through the crowd, winding his way to the stage. He knew when Scarlett spotted him because she aimed a laser-hot scowl his way.
“Cooper,” she whispered, turning away from the microphone. “I figured you’d be packing for Ohio.”
He shook his head. “I tried,” he confessed. “Nearly signed the contract. They were good numbers, Scarlett. The salary, the prestige, the research budget.”
“Then go.” She stood up, trying to keep him off the stage. Surely trying to avoid the spectacle he was bent on making. “Go be the man you worked so hard to become.”
Her dark eyes gleamed with pain and tears.
He had to fix this. “I am that man,” Cooper said, darting around her to the mic.
“Hey, folks. If y’all don’t know me, I’m Cooper Moss.
” The crowd stared and a few shouted hellos at him.
“I’ll only hijack your entertainment for a minute or two.
” He didn’t mind stating his case to the whole town.
He spotted her book club friends in a corner booth and waved.
None of them waved back. Didn’t matter, he was here for one woman only.
Standing at the mic so the whole pub could hear, he studied her.
“Scarlett, I messed up. The math was all wrong. I convinced myself I was solving for us, but you were right. I was only solving for me.”
“Cooper, stop this.” Pain was etched on her face.
“I turned down the job.” He risked a glance at the crowd. “Y’all are stuck with me.” Then he smiled at Scarlett. “Especially you. I told the committee in Ohio I’d already taken a tenure-track position.”
Scarlett blinked, her confusion momentarily overriding her frustration. “What are you talking about?” She took a step toward him. “You said the California school was closed.”
“My tenure isn’t at a university, Scarlett,” Cooper said, his voice dropping to that intimate, resonant tone that always made her catch her breath.
“My tenure is here. This island. This town. With the woman who teaches kids how to play bluegrass and the daughter with a gift for sandcastle architecture.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her.
“Read it. I signed a new contract for a job in Charleston. The private high school has been looking for a senior mathematics lead for two years. They offered me the position. It’s twenty minutes away by ferry.
I’ll be home for dinner every night. I can be at every soccer practice and game.
I can help you keep Cora from climbing the shelves. ”
Scarlett laughed, but only for a moment. “You turned down a university offer for a high school?”
“No. I turned down a job in favor of a life,” Cooper corrected.
“I realized that taking care of our family didn’t mean finding you a better seat at a different table.
It meant making sure I was welcome to join yours.
I don’t want to move you, Scarlett. I want to be moved by you.
I want to meet you under those mismatched porch lights every single night for the rest of my life. ”
The pub was silent. Even the tourists sensed the magnitude of the moment. Scarlett looked at the paper in his hand, then back up at his face. “Look at the signature.” He helped her flip to the back page.
“You’re staying?” she whispered.
“I’m staying,” he promised. “I love you. The math is so simple, Scarlett. I spent seven years missing out on the only thing that mattered. I’m not losing another second. Marry me, Scarlett. Please.”
Scarlett’s lower lip trembled. She set her guitar down on a nearby stand, her hands shaking. She took a step toward him, then another, until she was standing in his shadow, his tall body sheltering her a bit from the crowd watching them.
“You’re an idiot, Cooper Moss.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Brookwell will be talking about this for decades.”
“I sure hope so,” he said loudly enough to get the crowd cheering. “Say yes,” he urged, for her ears only. “Let’s write the rest of our story together.”
Scarlett tugged on his shirt, bringing him closer. “Yes,” she said against his mouth. He kissed her to raucous applause, then swept her up and carried her off the stage. He heard a woman shout, “About damn time!”