When Emery woke the next morning, the café was still asleep. The light was that soft, gray-pink shade that only happens when the clouds aren't sure whether they want to rain or get out of the way. She lay in bed a moment longer than usual, her fingers resting gently against her lips.
The kiss had been real.
And that terrified her.
Downstairs, the smell of coffee had beat her to consciousness. Cal. Of course.
She pulled on a sweater over her nightshirt and padded down the creaky steps barefoot. He was in the kitchen, hair still sleep-tousled, sleeves rolled, whistling something vaguely familiar—probably a melody from that one record they used to play until the grooves wore out.
"Morning," he said when he spotted her in the doorway. "I didn't know if you'd want coffee, so I made tea, too. And toast. Possibly the worst toast in Pebblebay, but it's hot."
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You always overcompensate when you're nervous."
He grinned sheepishly. "Figured that might still be true."
She took the mug he offered, sipped. He watched her like the answer to everything was hidden in her reaction.
"It's not bad," she admitted. "Still not as good as mine."
"That's fair."
They stood in the quiet for a moment before she asked, "So… what do we do now?"
Cal opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the back door flew open and in stumbled Nora Bellamy—Emery's neighbor, lifelong friend, and dedicated bringer of gossip.
"I swear on the town's last working phone booth, if you don't tell me whether that kiss happened, I'm going to explode right here in your kitchen," she declared, pulling her raincoat hood back dramatically.
Cal nearly dropped his toast.
Emery blinked. "How—?"
Nora waved her hand. "You think people didn't see you two on the dock last night? In this town? Someone swears they saw Cal holding your hand and then looking at you like he'd just found Jesus in your eyeballs."
Emery groaned, putting her mug down. "You've been awake three minutes and you're already a disaster."
"I'm invested," Nora said, collapsing into a kitchen chair. "We all are. You're the town's only ongoing love story. The rest of us are out here getting divorced and flirting with the postman. Let us have this."
Cal glanced at Emery. "So much for subtle."
"You were never subtle," she said, glaring at him. "You used to write me poems on paper napkins and leave them in the pastry case."
"That was romantic."
"That was chaotic. I once served one of your sonnets with a cinnamon roll."
Nora raised both eyebrows. "And that's the drama I'm here for."
Cal ran a hand through his hair. "Look… we're figuring it out."
"You kissed?" Nora asked, leaning forward.
Emery paused. Then nodded.
Nora squealed.
"But it's not what you think," Emery added quickly. "It's... complicated."
"All the best things are," Nora said. Then, more gently: "Do you still love him?"
There it was, bare on the table between them.
Emery looked at Cal.
Then back to Nora.
"I never stopped," she said.
Cal's shoulders dropped a fraction, like some unseen weight had loosened its grip.
"Well," Nora said, standing with a loud sigh, "that settles it. I'll start planning the wedding. Do we still like daisies?"
"Get out," Emery said, throwing a dish towel at her.
"I'll bring muffins tomorrow!" Nora called, vanishing through the back door like a one-woman weather system.
Left alone again, Emery sighed and leaned against the counter.
Cal took a step closer. "I meant it, you know. Last night. Every word."
"I know," she said. "But this isn't a movie, Cal. We have to live with the aftermath."
"Then let's live with it," he said, softly. "Messy or not."
She looked up at him, tired but unguarded.
"One day at a time?"
"Only way I know how."
Outside, the clouds finally moved on. Sunlight fell across the café floor in thin golden stripes, like something trying to find its way in.
And this time, Emery didn't stop it.