Page 18 of The One that Got Away

As Ava ushered Daniel out the door with a soft promise to return soon, Lyle reached for Lisa's hand, guiding her toward the back entrance. They walked in silence, the tension between them palpable, a current of unspoken thoughts and feelings charging the air.

At the doorway, under the porch light casting shadows around them, Lyle turned to face her. His eyes held a depth of emotion that made her breath hitch. Before she could react, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips, lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

"Thank you for dinner," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. "Lyle, I'm with Oliver," she stated firmly, despite the fluttering in her stomach and the uncertainty clouding her heart. Lyle was a very handsome man, and she was attracted to him, but she loved Oliver.

"For now," Lyle replied, his smile hinting at both resignation and challenge. He stepped back, nodding once before turning to walk down the path, leaving Lisa standing in the doorway. Her emotions were a tangled knot of gratitude, confusion, and an undeniable thrill of what-ifs.

She closed the door slowly, leaning against it, the cool wood grounding her as she took a deep, steadying breath. The evening had ended on a note she hadn't anticipated, leaving her with a sense of fear for what lay ahead; somehow, it felt both thrilling and terrifying in its potential.

Chapter Seven

Lisa sat at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee cradled in her hands. The gentle hum of the refrigerator accompanied her thoughts as she gazed out the window at the sleepy town coming to life in the soft morning light. She couldn't shake the tension that had settled between her and Oliver like an unwelcome guest. Their connection, once as seamless as the horizon where the sky met the sea, had been frayed by countless worries and silent meals.

The wavy brown strands of her hair fell across her face as she leaned forward, her resolve hardening. It was time to weave those frayed ends back together—a special evening, she thought, one carefully crafted with threads of romance and nostalgia—perhaps it could remind Oliver of the love that had once felt as vast and deep as the ocean he so missed.

With a determined sip of her coffee, Lisa opened her laptop and began her quest. Her fingers danced over the keys, eyes flickering across the screen as she delved into the art of unforgettable date nights. She envisioned Oliver's smile, the one that reached his ocean-blue eyes and warmed her faster than the midday sun. Remembering how he would speak reverently of his days on the fishing boat, the salty breeze tangling his dark hair, she typed in “ocean-themed evenings” and hit enter.

A plethora of ideas flooded the screen, and Lisa's pulse quickened. Each click was a step closer to the perfect night—a harmonious blend of thrill and romance that would reignite their spark. She imagined transforming their backyard into a seaside sanctuary, complete with the sounds of lapping waves and the scent of the sea. Or perhaps they could have a cozy indoor picnic, a starfish-patterned blanket spread across the living room floor, surrounded by candlelit jars filled with sand and seashells.

Her heart swelled at the thought of Oliver's woodworking tools shaping something beautiful from raw wood, so she added a personal touch to her mental blueprint: a hand-carved memento for him to find, a symbol of their enduring partnership despite the storms they weathered.

As Lisa's plans took shape, her excitement surged like the tide. It wasn't just about the evening; it was a sign of hope, a declaration that no matter how rough the waters, they could navigate them together. She jotted down notes meticulously, considering every detail—from the playlist echoing the calls of seabirds to the menu reminiscent of their first seaside date.

The thrill of anticipation mingled with suspense. Would her efforts be enough to bridge the distance that had crept between them? Could a single evening wash away the strain of financial burdens and past insecurities? Only time would tell, but Lisa was not one to shy away from a challenge. With a love as deep as theirs, she was willing to dive into unknown depths.

Lisa’s fingers fluttered through her closet, and there was a sense of urgency in her movements. She pulled out a navy blue dress that Oliver loved. Its fabric flowed like waves when she walked, and she knew it would bring a smile to his face. She carefully laid it across the bed, smoothing any wrinkles with tender strokes.

The house was quiet with the kids at a sleepover, even Julia, who was at Maggie’s for the night, leaving room for romance to blossom without interruption. In the kitchen, Lisa set about crafting the ambiance. She scattered sand across the countertop, interspersed with small shells they had collected together on better days. The flicker of candlelight bounced off a hand-carved wooden whale, one Oliver had made long ago but never left the studio—a testament to their shared journey and Oliver's love for woodworking.

Her heart beat in rhythm with the melodies of seabirds emanating softly from the speakers, carefully chosen to evoke memories of their early days by the water's edge. Every detail was a thread, weaving together past and present as Lisa filled the room with scents of salt and pine, a harmony of their lives entwined.

With dinner simmering—seafood chowder, Oliver's favorite—Lisa stepped into her dress, the fabric hugging her figure. A glance in the mirror confirmed her readiness, but it was the flush of anticipation on her cheeks that truly completed the look.

She was lighting the last candle when she heard the key turn in the front door. Her pulse quickened. This was the moment of truth.

"Lisa?" Oliver called out with a hint of curiosity as he stepped inside.

He had been at the inn with Ava and Daniel all day again, and now it was Lisa’s turn to have him to herself.

"Surprise," Lisa said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly through the transformed space.

Oliver stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the fading light outside. His eyes swept over the scene before him, widening in recognition of each lovingly placed detail—the scent of the ocean, the wooden whale, the soft music—and finally settling on Lisa herself.

"Wow," he breathed out, taking it all in. "This is… incredible."

His words were simple, but the emotion behind them ran deep. He moved closer, reaching out to trace a finger along the grain of the wooden whale that Lisa had sanded down and perfected, a silent acknowledgment of the effort Lisa had poured into this evening.

"Thank you," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "I can't remember the last time we did something like this."

"Neither can I," Lisa admitted, the warmth of his embrace melting away the last vestiges of doubt, at least for a little while.

There was a thrill in the air, a current of suspense that danced between them as they stood there, holding each other at the precipice of the night ahead. It was heartwarming and exciting, thrilling and suspenseful—all at once.

Lisa led Oliver by the hand to their moonlit sanctuary on the beach, her heart pounding in sync with the gentle lap of waves against the shore. The blanket she had spread out was soft beneath their feet, a patchwork quilt of memories pieced together with love and care. Above them, a billion stars twinkled like diamond dust scattered across an obsidian canvas, the constellations telling tales as old as time.

"Look at this," Oliver whispered, his voice hushed in reverence to the natural cathedral they stood within. His gaze lingered on the picnic basket, the candles flickering in glass jars, and the simple yet elegant spread of homemade delicacies Lisa had prepared.

---