Page 21 of Tides of Redemption
There was something in his voice when he mentioned Mary Anne—a slight hitch that caught my attention. Before I could question it, an older couple approached with questions about pricing.
“Let me just help them, and then we can talk more privately. I need to tell you something,” Caleb whispered. “Wait in the office?”
I nodded, making my way to the small room at the back of the gallery. It was meticulously organized yet showed signs of Caleb’s presence—a sketchbook on the desk, a French art magazine open to an article about contemporary painting, a half-empty mug of coffee.
When Caleb entered a few minutes later, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment before coming to sit in the chair across from me.
“I’ve missed you,” I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes, warm and brown, met mine. “I’ve missed you, too.”
The simple admission hung between us, fragile and hopeful.
“Have you made your decision?” I asked, unable to dance around the subject any longer. “About the Louvre?”
Caleb nodded, his expression serious. “I’m turning it down.”
The words sent a shock through me—relief, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” His voice was steady, certain. “I don’t want to go back to Paris.”
“But your sabbatical ends in what, five months? What will you do then?” The practical questions tumbled out before I could stop them. “Your contract with Mary Anne is temporary, right?”
Caleb was quiet for a moment, his hands fidgeting slightly with a paperclip from the desk. “That’s what I wanted to talk toyou about,” he said finally. “Mary Anne offered to sell the gallery to me.”
The words didn’t register at first. When they did, I felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath me.
“She… What?”
“She’s been considering retirement, and I’d like to stay in Seacliff Cove.” His eyes never left mine. “Permanently.”
“When did she tell you this?” My voice sounded strange to my ears.
“She floated the idea on Tuesday.” He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “And we came to an agreement yesterday. I spoke with a loan officer this morning.”
I tried to process this information, this possibility I hadn’t allowed myself to consider. “And if they approve it?”
“There’s paperwork, legal issues to sort out…” His hands moved expressively as he spoke. “But it could work, Mason. I could stay.”
“If the loan falls through?” My gut clenched.
Caleb took a deep breath. “Then I’ll figure something else out. I’m not going back to Paris.”
The certainty in his voice made my heart race. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I spoke with the bank,” he said, his voice quiet. “And I did that this morning. I was going to tell you this evening.”
A laugh escaped me, half incredulous, half joyful. “Too late.”
“What?”
“It’s too late not to get my hopes up,” I clarified, feeling the walls I’d so carefully constructed begin to crumble. “You’re really doing this? Buying a gallery in a small coastal town when you could be at the Louvre?”
“I’m really doing this.” He stood and moved around the desk to stand before me, close enough that I had to tilt my head down slightly to maintain eye contact. “I’m taking a leap of faith.”
Something broke loose inside me then—all the fear and hope and longing I’d been holding back for days, for years. I reached for him, pulling him close until our lips met. His arms wrapped around me immediately, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
This kiss differed from our others—not tentative like our first reconnection, not urgent like during the storm. This was certainty, promise, the future. His cologne enveloped me, familiar and intoxicating. When we finally broke apart, I kept my hands on his shoulders, unwilling to let him go.
