Chapter Twenty-Nine Sophie
Twenty-Nine
Sophie
“Are you sure this dress is all right?” Sophie twisted in front of the small vintage mirror she’d propped against the wall of her still-unfinished bedroom. “It’s not too much?”
The dress in question was a yellow wrap dress that hugged curves she normally tried to downplay. She’d discovered it in the boutique in town and now she was wondering if it was the right choice.
Luke, already dressed in dark jeans and a blue button-down shirt, leaned against the doorframe, watching her with an expression that made her cheeks warm.
“It’s perfect,” he said simply.
Sophie turned back to the mirror, fussing with her hair. “I’ve known Caleb for all of five minutes. Is bringing a bottle of wine enough? Should we have brought something else? Oh God, do Americans even bring wine to parties?”
It was just under two weeks since the window incident and many more renovation “playtimes” later, and they were preparing to go to Caleb’s birthday party.
Luke crossed the room, his reflection appearing behind hers in the mirror. His hands settled on her shoulders, warm and steady. “Breathe, Bookshop.”
“I’m breathing,” she insisted, though her inhale was decidedly shaky. “Absolute picture of calm, me.”
“Caleb will love the wine. And you. Everyone loves you. Ready?”
Sophie took one last glance in the mirror, squared her shoulders, and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
She walked out of her room and to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing as she surveyed the transformation below. Luke followed, his arms slipping around her waist from behind, his chest warm against her back.
She took in a breath, hardly believing what she was seeing.
The floor-to-ceiling shelves Luke had now built dominated the main wall, painted in soft pastels that somehow managed to look sophisticated rather than nursery-like.
Sage green melted into dusty pink, which faded to cream, creating this dreamy gradient that made the whole space feel larger and brighter.
He’d worked like a man possessed these past two weeks, as if he was trying to make up for the Great Window Disaster of whenever-that-was.
The shelves—all created from the driftwood they’d found on Maple Island—fitted the boathouse’s curves perfectly, following the natural lines of the structure like they’d always belonged there.
In the quiet moments between hammering and measuring, Sophie would catch herself staring at the empty shelves and imagining the ritual of it all: the peaceful mornings spent rearranging displays, creating little themed corners that would make customers stop and browse.
She’d write handwritten recommendation cards in her tidiest script: “This made me cry on the train when I lived in London…in the best possible way. —S”
Display tables had arrived and were scattered about like promises of what was to come, while the low bookshelves meant for the other walls sat in neat stacks, ready for Sophie to wrestle into position.
The window seat was nearly finished too, thanks to Luke’s carpentry wizardry, its built-in cushions waiting for Abbey—because of course Luke’s ex wasn’t just gorgeous and kind, she was also a bloody talented upholsterer—to work her magic with fabric that would probably be more beautiful than anything Sophie could have chosen herself.
Comfortable too, according to Abbey, essential considering Sophie planned to curl up there during quiet afternoons, working through advance reading copies that publishers would send her.
Sophie imagined her mother curled up in that very window seat with one of those dystopian novels she’d loved, a proper mug of tea beside her: half a sugar, no milk, always the same.
Plus a plate of digestives within easy reach, of course.
She’d probably glance up occasionally to watch the lake, then dive back into whatever fictional apocalypse had caught her attention, completely content.
“You okay?” Luke asked.
“It’s actually happening, isn’t it?” Sophie said. “It’s starting to look like—”
“It’s starting to look like a bookshop, Soph,” Luke whispered in her ear, his voice rough with something that might have been pride. “I’m so proud of you.”
“And you!” she said, twisting around to look up at him. “You’ve helped me so much!”
“The payment is pretty phenomenal,” he said, eyes taking in her cleavage as his hand drifted up to cup her breast.
She laughed and slapped his hands away playfully. “We’re already late,” she said, heading to the staircase. “Come on!”
The night was mild, the lake smooth as glass as they crossed to the other side in Luke’s boat. It was getting warmer the closer they got to May, no need for a second layer during the day now. Sophie trailed her fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread out behind them.
In the distance, under the soft moonlight, she spotted something that made her do a double-take.
Carved into the landscape was what looked like a natural amphitheater: a perfect half-circle that sloped down toward the water like nature had decided to get into the entertainment business. At the center sat a proper stage.
“Wait, what’s that?” she asked Luke, pointing toward the rather impressive formation. “Please tell me you haven’t been hiding a secret outdoor theatre from me this whole time.”
“Oh yeah, the Solace Springs Amphitheater,” Luke said, following her gaze with that fond look he got when talking about town landmarks. “Lots of productions happen there, including Wildflower Fest in the summer—bands, singers, the whole works. Even had Colt Ashford perform there a few years back.”
Sophie’s jaw practically hit the deck of the boat.
“Colt Ashford? The Colt Ashford who’s been plastered across my social media feeds for the past six months?
” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.
The crazy-hot country singer was basically a walking tabloid headline: all spectacular public meltdowns and legendary partying that would make a rock star blush.
“I’m sorry, but how on earth does a sleepy lakeside town manage to book someone who probably has to pay venues extra for potential property damage? ”
“Born here,” Luke said with typical understatement.
“When his folks split up, he moved with his dad to Tennessee as a kid. Still comes back sometimes to see his ma, when he’s not busy making headlines.
” He smiled as they directly passed the amphitheater.
“You should see the place in summer, Soph. Wildflowers grow all over those banks. Looks damn pretty…like you,” he added, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him.
They stood together as he steered the boat and Sophie took in the views until the traditional boathouses of their side of the lake gave way to more modern structures on the eastern shore—sleek lines, walls of glass, plush decks jutting out over the water.
“Bit different over here,” she observed, taking in the contemporary architecture. “Gorgeous houses, all the same.”
“If you like that sort of thing,” Luke said, easing back on the throttle as they approached a boat dock that looked like it had been lifted straight from an architectural magazine. “Not my style, though. Too much glass, not enough character.”
Music drifted across the water; lights twinkling from what had to be Caleb and Mikkel’s place: a stunning two-story structure of warm wood and seemingly endless windows. From the water, it looked like a floating lantern.
“That’s…” Sophie searched for the right word. “Impressive.”
“Expensive,” Luke corrected, guiding the boat alongside the dock until it came to a stop.
“Sailor boy!” Caleb’s voice rang out. “And the ravishing Londoner! You finally made it!”
Caleb bounded from his house to meet them, dressed in a silk shirt patterned with tropical flowers and white linen shorts. He pulled Sophie into a hug.
“Happy birthday,” Sophie said, returning the hug and offering the wine. “Sorry it’s not gift-wrapped. My boathouse is currently more ‘construction zone’ than ‘functional living space.’ ”
“Oh honey, no apologies necessary.” Caleb accepted the bottle with a flourish. “The fact you dragged our resident hermit to a social gathering is gift enough. I should be giving you a present.”
“Hey, come on,” Luke protested, “I’m not a hermit.”
“Of course not, darling.” Caleb patted Luke’s muscled chest consolingly. “You’re a selective socializer. Now come up, come up! Mikkel’s been grilling all day, and Mabel brought her famous punch.”
Luke’s hand remained steady against Sophie’s back as they followed Caleb up the stairs to the main deck, where the party was in full swing.
Sophie felt strangely nervous and exhilarated all at once.
This was their first proper outing as a…
what, exactly? Couple? Renovation partners with benefits?
She had no idea what to call them, several weeks since they shared their first kiss.
But whatever they were, they were doing it publicly now and somehow that felt significant.
The inside of Caleb and Mikkel’s home was even more spectacular than the exterior.
Soaring ceilings, a wall of glass overlooking the lake, sleek furniture in warm neutrals and strategic pops of color in artwork and accessories.
An open-plan living area flowed seamlessly into a kitchen that would make professional chefs weep with envy.
The whole space managed to be both minimalist and welcoming, exactly the kind of modern design that Sophie had always admired in magazines.
She couldn’t help but imagine what her bookshop might look like with some of these modern elements.
Perhaps glass shelves that seemed to float, or strategic lighting that highlighted special collections.