Chapter 9
Ruby
I WOKE TO SOFT MORNING light filtering through the curtains and the distant beeping of a delivery truck backing into the inn’s lot. The first day of renovations.
I stretched—and then froze.
Sebastian’s arm draped around my waist.
I looked down. It wasn’t there. Just the ghost of it.
Right. That happened.
I blinked, letting the night piece itself together.
The food. Farscape. His shoulder under my cheek.
I’d dozed off—and when I stirred sometime in the middle of the night, I’d found myself curled against his chest. His heartbeat had lulled me right back to sleep.
At some point, I remembered his arms around me, his chest against my back, the way I clung to his solid warmth like I couldn’t let go.
Then, a soft kiss to my forehead woke me to a sky that turned gray and the chirping of early birds. “Have a flight to catch,” he had whispered, his face close to mine, my eyes barely open.
Now I rubbed my face alone in a bed that still smelled faintly of his aftershave and detergent.
Sebastian and I had always been on the same page. I’d just momentarily flipped to the wrong one and needed to get back to the one we’d both bookmarked.
I swung my legs over the side and got moving. My to-do list was a war plan in my head.
By the time I stepped out of my house, I’d had a quick shower—as quick as taking care of curls allowed—braided my wet hair to keep it under control, and slipped into black slacks that were presentable but still dispensable, a comfy top, and flats. Today was for movement, dust, sweat.
Nothing else.
Outside, I stopped by cabins seven (Sea Breeze) and eight (Sea Froth), where assigned staff were already emptying furniture. Each cabin in the garden and each room in the main house were individually designed, all sharing the same ‘seaside cottage’ theme and name.
“Morning,” I called to Lani, who was leading the temp staff hauling furniture and accessories into storage. Dayna was there too—I’d made sure she had enough work to stay full-time, knowing how much she needed it as a single mom.
Upon getting to the main house, I caught sight of the contractor’s truck pulling in, followed by another carrying a dumpster.
“Morning,” I called again as the team began unloading. I headed straight to Dave and his foreman, who was already barking orders.
“Ready to break stuff?” I asked.
Because that’s what the day needed.
Demolition.
FOUR DAYS INTO THE renovations, the inn looked like it was holding its breath and hanging in the balance.
Scaffolding crept up like ivy on the sides of the cabins that’d been stripped to their bare bones, and workers buzzed between them.
The upper rooms in the main house were emptied and sealed off, and the restaurant was officially indoor-only until the new deck was ready.
Once work began on the main house, it would shut down completely.
I’d taken a dozen pictures on my phone before noon—angled shots of gutted rooms and structural beams mid-replacement—and sent them to Sebastian with the caption: “Progress report: photogenic chaos.”
He replied with his usual thumbs-up, then added a line saying, “Steel reinforcements in the right lighting are poetry.”
I found myself smiling stupidly at my phone. It wasn’t that funny, Ruby.
Later, I drove to town. I parked just off the main street and made a quick stop at the insurance office to finalize the claim paperwork.
The heart of Coral Bay was a grid of sun-soaked streets stretching out from the main avenue.
Tourists and locals loved it alike for the pastel buildings, ornate flower boxes, small shops, and mix of palm trees and tall gums. The beach promenade was dotted with cafés and souvenir shops, mostly quieter this time of year.
The residential neighborhoods unfurled from both sides of the center, curving with the bay in a gentle crescent.
Somewhere near the tip of it stood my inn, a yellow cluster dipping in green that was visible even from here.
I grabbed a coffee at my local spot, where a ship’s wheel sat mounted above the pastry case.
George, the owner, asked about the inn as I waited for him to make me his signature dark roast, something between comfort and rocket fuel.
“It’s hanging in there, and this brew will help me do the same.”
He smiled proudly. “It’ll do that.”
Evangeline’s flower shop, Bay & Bloom, was just down the block, but I spotted only Marcy, her employee, through the window, and kept walking.
Now, as the sky turned coral and gold, I opened my front door to let Rio and Evangeline in.
“Your fairy godmothers have arrived,” Rio called out, the ‘g’ slightly lingering in her throat.
“You see now why I couldn’t leave here and meet you at the Shore Thing?” I asked, hugging Rio first, then Eve.
“Yeah, we saw,” Evangeline said into my shoulder. At five-foot-two, she reached my chin. “But it’ll be beautiful and worth it in the end,” she added when we pulled apart.
We went inside. Rio held a bag from the health shop, and Evangeline carried a small, wrapped bundle.
They dropped both onto the kitchen island, next to extras from this morning’s breakfast buffet—which hadn’t gotten much action now that only a handful of guests remained—and the bottle of wine I’d uncorked earlier.
“If either of those has caffeine, you’re my favorite,” I said, eyeing the goods.
“I brought lavender,” Eve said. “For the house. Or your pillow. Or your bath if you ever stop long enough to take one.”
“You’re the sweetest,” I said, already unwrapping the bundle and breathing in the scent.
Rio opened her bag. “And to complement it, energy drops and bars. All-natural.”
“Thanks. My energy is getting maxed out,” I admitted to both.
Evangeline sat at the table and looked around. “Wow,” she said softly, taking in the dust-caked sneakers by the door and the building plans on the coffee table. “How are you holding up? For real.”
I shrugged. “Ask me when they get to the main building. That’s where shit’s going to get deep. Now it’s mostly making sure the breakfast muffins don’t taste like drywall dust.”
Eve chuckled.
“Daphne joining us?” Rio asked.
“No, she texted me to say she couldn’t make it today.”
“I think she’s going through something,” Evangeline said quietly.
Rio turned to look at her, then at me. “If Evangeline says that, there’s something to it. Her radar’s freakishly good.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Rio still insisted on calling Eve by her full name. Once, she told me, “She doesn’t feel like an Eve to me. She’s ... Evangeline.”
I could see that. With her floral dresses, flowing skirts, soft tops, and pale blue baggy jeans, there was definitely something Evangeline-y about her.
But Rio didn’t know her as well as I did.
Despite the delicate build, freckled nose, and soft brown hair tucked behind her ears that made her look younger than her years, Evangeline was no shrinking violet.
She looked like the gentle daughter her long-deceased devout mother had probably prayed for—but she was more. There was both an Eve and an Evangeline in her.
We dove into the smoked salmon with cream cheese and bagels box, then the fruit platter, leaving the banana nut and blueberry muffin plate to the end.
“How many drops?” I asked, holding the tiny bottle of the natural energy stuff over our glasses.
“Two. It’s made of—”
“Evangeline knows all the plant things, tell her,” I cut in, laughing. The wine I’d poured on an empty stomach was making me fuzzy around the edges.
Rio started listing ingredients, and Evangeline chimed in with facts about ginseng and something else that sounded like it grew on a cliff in the Himalayas.
I let them talk for a while, the sound of my friends in my kitchen calming. “Your turn to spill some beans,” I said after a while. “Anyone else living in a metaphorical work site this week?”
Rio’s eyes went all hazy just as a dreamy smile stretched across her face.
She let out a sigh. “I hate to ruin the mood, but things are amazing. Really. Sorry, Ruby—I know you’re going through a rough patch and don’t believe in any of it anyway—but I’m in love.
” She sighed again. “Owen is ... he’s amazing.
I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you. ”
I smacked her thigh. “I’m happy for you! We want to hear the good stuff, so why are you apologizing? You deserve all the happiness. But if Mr. Soccer Superstar ever acts up, just say the word—I’ll straighten him out myself.”
“No, he’s perfect. Honestly, if I let him have his way, we’d be hiring your crew to build a nursery tomorrow.”
Evangeline listened quietly, smiling. It wasn’t nearly as wide as Rio’s, but it was genuine. The kindest soul I knew.
“What about you, Evie?” I asked. “That new guy you liked who came in every week, were the bouquets for a girlfriend or his mom?”
She waved a hand. “His boyfriend, actually.” She chuckled. “He came in when Marcy was working, and she obviously got his full life story, everything from his first-grade teacher’s name to his current relationship.”
She went on to tell us a sweet story about the anniversary bouquet she made for a couple who’d first met at her shop eight years ago. She was probably the most romantic and least jaded about relationships of all of us. Which, given her life story, was surprising.
I watched them, and warmth spread through my chest. My chaos didn’t feel so heavy when I had my people.
“So,” Rio said, returning from the fridge with three cans of iced tea. “When was Sebastian here?”
Her timing was brutal. Snapped me right out of my reverie about how much I loved her.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because there’s a re-capped bottle of Sierra Nevada pale ale in your fridge, and that’s always a sign.”
“A few days ago,” I said, shrugging.
“How are things?” she asked casually.
“What do you mean?”
“Things between you two,” Eve said, like I needed translation.