Page 28 of Our Bay Will Come

I snort. "That's rich coming from you. Weren't you practically living at Cilla's place two weeks after you met her?"

"That's different," he says, not meeting my eyes.

"How? Because it's your relationship and not mine?"

"No, because..." He hesitates, then sighs. "Because Prue's different, okay? Cilla knew what she wanted right away––she was just worried about timing. Prue overthinks everything. She analyzes relationships like they're architectural blueprints."

I shove tools into my bag with more force than necessary. "I get it. She's complicated. Message received."

"I'm not trying to be a dick," Rowan says, his voice softening. "I just don't want to see either of you get hurt. You're both important to me."

That takes some of the fight out of me. Rowan's been my best friend since kindergarten, so he's not wrong to be concerned.

"I know," I concede. "And I appreciate it. But I've got this, okay? I'm not going to push her."

He nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now let's get this shit cleaned up so you can go home and pretend you haven't been stress-cleaning your house all week."

"Fuck you," I say without heat, and he laughs.

We finished in record time. As I drive back to my place, Rowan's words keep echoing in my head: Take it slow, day by day—Prue's different.

I know she is. That’s why I’ve fallen in love with her.

I pull into my driveway, checking my watch. I've got about twenty minutes before Prue arrives. The house is clean and dinner prepped, but suddenly, I'm second-guessing everything. Is my room presumptuous?

"Get it together, Carmichael," I mutter, heading inside.

I shower quickly, change into clean clothes, and check that everything's ready. The lasagna is warm in the oven. Wine is breathing on the counter. The deck is swept, with the fire pit ready to go for later if she wants to sit outside and watch the stars.

Not that I've been planning this obsessively or anything.

I'm straightening couch pillows for the third time when headlights sweep across my front window. My heart skips a beat, which is ridiculous. I'm thirty-one years old, not some teenager waiting for his prom date.

But when I step onto the porch and see her sitting in her car, hands still on the wheel, like she's deciding whether to stay or go, I feel the same pull I felt when we met—like gravity has shifted, and I'm drawn toward her orbit.

I don't wave or call out. I wait, giving Prue space to make her choice. And when she finally opens her car door and steps out, the smile that breaks across her face feels like the sun coming out after a storm.

"Hi," she says, tucking dark hair behind her ear. She's wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater that matches her eyes. She's less polished than usual but even more beautiful.

"Hi," I answer, coming down the steps to meet her. "Good drive?"

"Not bad." She glances past me at the house, then back to my face. "This place is lovelier than I remember. I don’t think I took a good look at your garden the last time I was here. It looks like you’ve worked hard on it."

"Thanks." I resist the urge to pull her into my arms. Take it slow, I remind myself. "Can I get your bag?"

"Oh, sure." She pops the trunk, and I lift out a modestly-sized weekender. "I'm a light packer."

"Good. Leaves more room for souvenirs." I smile, and she laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in the air.

"Are there actually souvenirs in Cedar Bay? Let me guess – tiny lighthouses and mugs that say 'Life's a Bay'?"

"Don't forget the cedar wood carvings and saltwater taffy," I add, leading her up the steps. We're very on-brand."

She follows me inside, and I watch as she takes in my home – the open floor plan, the large windows facing the water, the simple but comfortable furniture. I see it through her eyes and wonder what the interior designer in her thinks of my bachelor pad.

"Those windows are incredible. Did you do the renovations yourself?"

"Most of them. Rowan helped with the deck and some of the electrical." I set her bag down, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. "Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water?"

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