Page 38 of Fixing Up My Love Life

Aubrey spins on her heel and spots me. “Hazel! Thank goodness. I need decisions—ceremony chairs, reception chairs, and backup rain chairs. Also, bubblesor sparklers for the couple’s exit? And wait for it—what are your thoughts on a champagne wall shaped like a seashell? Too much? Or just the right amount of fabulous?”

I blink. “Um, I need to feed Ellen first. Then coffee.”

I step into the kitchen, but Ellen has already vanished. I check upstairs and the back porch, but she’s gone. It takes less than five minutes of searching the house for the panic to set in.

“Have you seen Ellen?” I ask Jack who is drilling in a light fixture on the back porch, muscles flexing beneath the arms of his shirt. Yum. I shake my head. This is no time to drool over my man. My kid is missing.

Kira, ever the bloodhound, gasps. "She’s heading to the beach! And she’s dragging the inflatable pirate ship!"

Oh no.

“Ellen Cooper, you better not be trying to sail off to sea!” I shout, already moving.

Jack drops his drill and runs. Kira bolts after him, ponytail flying. I follow, flip-flops slapping against the front steps, heart pounding as the sun beats down on my back.

We reach the sand just as Ellen digs her heels intothe ground, dragging the pirate ship toward the tide with every ounce of her tiny strength. Her little face is set in fierce determination. She’s going to launch. She’s really going to do it.

Jack charges across the beach and scoops her up mid-leap like a linebacker intercepting a touchdown. The inflatable flips, Ellen squeals in glee, and Kira crashes into Jack’s side. I nearly twist my ankle in the soft sand trying to stop. We all land in a tangled, laughing, sandy heap just short of the waves.

A few neighbors applaud from their porches. Of course they do.

Later that afternoon, I collapse onto the porch swing with a tall glass of lemonade and a sigh that lasts three years. Jack drops beside me, still sandy, still smug, stretching his legs out like he’s never known stress in his life.

We sit in silence for a minute, watching Ellen twirl barefoot in the grass, swinging a stick like it’s a sword and the palm tree is her mortal enemy.

“Thank you for chasing after her,” I say, nudging his leg.

His voice is tender. “I’d do anything for her.”

My breath catches and I turn to him, but he’s already watching me, a quiet steadiness in his eyes.

He leans in, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of my hand. “It hit me the day I saw her sleeping in your arms—back when I was fixing the sink. You were right there, a toddler curled against your chest, and I knew I wasn’t just falling for you again—I already had. All of it.”

His voice softens. “That’s why I bought the land. Why I’m building Buccaneer Bay. Not just for the tourists or the town. For you. For the life we’re building here. If that’s what you want.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. Like sunlight after a storm. Like hope that dares to stay.

“You mean that?” I whisper, hardly trusting the moment.

Jack holds my gaze. “Haze, I told you once, and I’ll keep saying it. I love you. And this time, I’m staying.”

My eyes blur, but I don’t look away. I soak in every detail—the steadiness in his voice, the way he leans in with quiet certainty. I close the space between us, drawn in by everything he is and everything I thought I’d lost.

“I love you too, Jack,” I say. “You’re everything I didn’t know I still wanted.”

For a long breath, everything hushes. The windslows, like the whole world paused to witness the shift between us.

Then—

“Coming through!” Lila’s shout crashes into the moment as she charges past, carefully balancing a massive bowl of watermelon meant for the painting crew.

Ellen zips in from the hallway, eyes locked on the fruit like it’s treasure. She lunges forward, fingers snatching the edge of the bowl just enough to throw everything off-kilter.

Lila gasps.

The bowl slips.

And then—chaos.

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