For Now and Forever (The Inn at Sunset Harbor-Book 1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

3 months later

Spring sunshine seeped in through Emily's curtain, waking her as gently as a kiss. The slow, languorous mornings were something Emily enjoyed more and more as the days passed. She had grown to cherish the quiet stillness of Sunset Harbor.

Emily stirred in her bed and allowed her eyelids to flutter open. The bedroom that had once been her parents' was now very much her own. It had been the first room she'd restored and renovated. The old moth-eaten blanket was gone, replaced by a beautiful patchwork silk cover. The beautiful cream rug was soft and squishy beneath her feet as she got out of bed, using one post of the four-poster bed to pull herself to standing. The walls still smelled of fresh paint as she went over to the now sanded and varnished dresser and removed a floral spring dress. The drawers were neatly packed with clothes, her life once again organized.

Emily admired her reflection in the floor-length mirror, which she'd had restored and cleaned professionally, then pulled the curtains open fully, delighting in the way that spring had come to Sunset Harbor in a flurry of color; azaleas, magnolias, and daffodils bloomed in the yard, the trees bordering her property had grown lush green leaves, and the sliver of ocean she could see from the window was a glittering silver. She pushed open the window and breathed in deeply, tasting the salt in the air.

As she leaned out the window, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision. She craned her head to see better. It was Daniel, tending to one of the flower beds. He was completely focused on the task at hand, a habit Emily had come to recognize in him over the three months they'd been working on the house together. When Daniel started something, all his focus zoned in on it, and he wouldn't stop until it was done. It was a quality Emily respected in him, though at times she felt like she was completely pushed out. There had been plenty of times over the last few months when they had worked side by side all day and spoken not a single word. Emily couldn't work out what was going on in Daniel's mind; he was impossible to read. The only sign she had that he was not repulsed by her was that he came back day after day after day, following her requests to move furniture, sand floors, varnish wood, reupholster couches. He was still refusing to take any money, and Emily wondered how exactly he supported himself if he spent all his days with her working for free.

Emily drew back from the window and exited her bedroom. The upstairs corridor was now neat and organized. She'd removed the dusty picture frames from the wall and replaced them with a series of prints by the eccentric British photographer Eadweard Muybridge, whose photos were all about capturing movement. She chose the series of dancing women because to her they were incredibly beautiful, the moment of transience, the movement, it was like poetry to her eyes. The finger-smudged wallpaper had also been stripped and Emily had painted the hallway a crisp white.

Emily trotted downstairs, feeling more and more like this was her home. Those years she'd gate-crashed on Ben's life seemed to now be suddenly very far behind her. It felt to Emily that this was where she was always supposed to have been.

Her phone was in its usual spot on the table by the door. It felt like she'd finally gotten into a routine—waking up slowly, dressing, checking her phone. Now that spring had arrived, she had a new part to her routine, which was heading into town to grab coffee and breakfast before checking out the local flea markets for items that she wanted for the house. Today was Saturday, which meant there'd be more stores open for her to look in, and she was intent on finding more furniture today.

After firing off a text to Amy, Emily grabbed her car keys and went outside. As she crossed the yard she looked around for Daniel but could not see him. Over the last three months his presence had become another source of stability for her. It sometimes felt to Emily as though he was always there, just an arm's length away.