Page 89 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

“Jameson’s not like that. But it’s between you and I won’t get involved. I’ll talk to him later about this and straighten things out.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

She headed out with Bear and wondered if Jameson would decide to leave earlier now that Mac wasn’t happy about the surprise. But she had no control over what happened next.

Like Peter Pan said, all she could do was have faith and trust that what they had together could sustain distance and hurdles.

But damn, she wouldn’t mind a bit of pixie dust for luck.

Chapter Fourteen

Jameson walked.

In New York, when he needed to calm down after a stressful night at the restaurant, he’d walk the streets for hours. Sometimes, he’d be early enough to watch the bakeries open and smell the fresh bread. Sometimes, he’d head to the river by the fish market and watch the organized chaos as vendors bought supplies, himself included. He’d become an expert in recognizing the freshest seafood for the best prices. It was a cutthroat and ruthless industry, but he’d become a part of it and flourished.

He never imagined himself anywhere else, but after a month in Cape May, doubts were beginning to creep in. He loved being by the ocean, even in winter. He’d begun to love watching the familiar customers at Vintage, even when they complained, and learning about their lives. He enjoyed Mac’s large house with plenty of space and a yard, even though the décor was awful.

And he’d begun to love Bear, even though he wasn’t a dog person.

Things had changed. But once he returned to his life, would he miss this, or forget? Was this like living in a bubble of Camelot, yet destined to remain almost a dream?

His instincts roared no. Devon was more. She was his Guinevere, and he was…

Well, not Lancelot. Probably more like the King. Too invested in his knights at the round table to give enough romance to Guinevere.

Ah, hell, he was losing his mind. Why was he suddenly casting them as roles in a tragic romance story?

Not caring about his shoes, he walked onto the beach and stood by the ocean. The salt air rose to his nostrils. The sky was gray and wintry. The water looked cold and dark and depressing. But the pull of the waves and the endless stretch of sand around him settled his mind and his heart. There was magic here, in this little beach town. It called to him.

Like Devon.

But he couldn’t change his life after a few weeks with someone. Plus, the first half had begun with them disliking each other. He needed to be rational, even though his heart throbbed with the simple knowledge he’d found his person.

He stood on the sand and thought for a while. The thing with Mac had completely thrown him off. He kept going over all the things he’d done and couldn’t understand why Mac was so upset. Because he felt embarrassed Jameson had done better? No, that wasn’t like his cousin. Did he feel like Jameson was trying to take over and felt threatened? Again, not like Mac. Something didn’t fit.

The memory of his words stung.

You made Vintage into your own restaurant.

You did it for you.

Bullshit. He’d never do that.

Right?

He didn’t want his own restaurant. At least, he never had before. Sure, being at Vintage gave him a different perspective and the idea had tickled his brain a bit. But Mac was being unfair with is accusations.

Jameson walked to the boardwalk and passed the vacant store space. He stopped and took his time examining the inside. His mind spun with possibilities and questions. Taking out his phone, he typed in the number for the realtor. Wouldn’t hurt to see what the rent was like around here. Maybe he’d research thecompetition. Get an idea of what places succeeded, what didn’t, and why.

Maybe.

When his thoughts calmed, he texted Dev that he’d meet her at the shop.

It was time to talk.

* * * *

They lay in the bed, wrapped up in each other. Devon tried to focus on the present instead of the future. Soon, he’d be gone, and she needed to adjust to life without him here. She wasn’t about to ruin her happiness with what-ifs and unknown tomorrows. Sometimes, the moment needed to be enough.

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