Chapter 20

"I don't want to go home," Marty announced, propping her feet up on the coffee table of their little rental, letting the flames from the fire Wyatt had built warm her soles. "I've changed my mind. Let's stay here forever."

Her husband came in from the kitchen, a glass of wine in each hand and his tablet tucked under his arm.

"I think the owners of this place might have something to say about that." He chuckled, handing her one of the glasses. It was a rich red that gleamed ruby where the fire shone through it. She took a sip. Mm, delicious.

"We'll just explain the situation," she countered. "We'll tell them we're having such a nice time that we couldn't possibly leave. I'm sure they'll understand."

"They might," he allowed, "but you know who wouldn't? Peaches, Bertram, Trouble, and Macy. Or your mom, come to think of it."

She pretended to smack the heel of her hand against her forehead in an oh, duh gesture.

"Silly me. How could I forget our fur babies? My deepest apologies."

"I'm sure they'll forgive you… once you give them enough treats, that is. Anyway, we may have to go home, but we do have one thing we never got from our first honeymoon." He waved the tablet. "Pictures for your album. Want to see? We can place the order for prints remotely too, if you want."

"Ooh, yes," she said, putting down her wine and making grabby hands at the device. "Let's look."

The couple settled in on the wide, squishy couch together as they scrolled through the photos they'd taken over the weekend. The shots followed a chronological order, tracking their picturesque drive up the coast, the dinner Lori had booked for them for the first night, then the two weekend days where they'd hunted for clams and then taken a cooking class using what they'd found, gotten a couple's massage at a nearby spa, and taken long walks along the beach. Some of the shots were of landscapes or food, and some were of just one of them, but Marty's favorites were easily the ones where they'd asked a stranger to grab a quick snap of the two of them together.

"I love this," she said, pointing to a photo that showed them holding up their buckets of clams. They were both windswept, and Wyatt had a streak of sand on his cheek, but their grins were as wide as their faces. "Look how much fun we're having."

Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulder, which made it harder to swipe through the tablet, but she didn't mind one bit.

"It's pretty easy to have fun when you're spending time with the best wife ever."

She grinned. "And easy to look cute doing it when you have the best husband ever." She paused. "Really though, I want to say thank you again for doing all this for me. It means so much that you did all this, that you got my sister to do a terrible job lying to me, just to make up for our lost honeymoon."

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I'm your husband now. Making you happy is in the job description." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's my favorite part of the job description, actually."

"Oh yeah?" she challenged. "What about this part?"

Then she laid a soft, loving kiss on his mouth.

When she pulled back, he was smiling. "You're right… that part is one of my favorites too. I'm glad you thought of it. How did I get so lucky?"

"I'm actually the lucky one, I think," she countered, then stole another kiss.

"Let's agree we're both lucky," he offered.

She agreed… and then they kissed once more. For luck.

If there was anything that said ‘spring has sprung' more perfectly than new plant growth, Claire didn't know what it was. She looked forward to sprouting stems and budding flowers every year, but this year?

This year was ten times as amazing.

"Liam!" she called, rushing into the shop, where he was hauling away empty boxes to the recycling. Now that the shelving was all installed, thanks to his hard work, Claire was finally able to move on to the fun part of opening her shop—putting everything in its final place and beginning to move in some inventory. The things that weren't living plants, at least.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at her from around an armful of cardboard. She took it from his grasp, laid it on a nearby table, and then grabbed his hands.

"Come see," she urged, feeling childlike in her excitement. "Come see the garden!"

She tugged him out the back door of the shop, into the little garden where she would grow as much of her inventory as she could. She wouldn't be able to keep up with everything, of course, not in the way a full-time flower farm could, but anything she could grow herself would not only defray costs but would also scratch the itch in Claire that told her to work with growing, living things, not just flowers that were already cut.

He followed her, chuckling, over to one of her planters, where the first sprouts of some dusty miller and feverfew daisies were poking through the soil. Both plants were common bouquet fillers, so not as glamorous as centerpiece flowers, but they'd be something she would use frequently…

As she looked at the planters with fresh eyes, however, she frowned a little sheepishly. Maybe she'd been too excited over those teeny tiny sprouts.

Before she could doubt herself too much, however, Liam's strong arms wrapped around her from behind, squeezing her tight as he tucked his chin into the crook of her shoulder.

"Would you look at that," he said, voice impressed. "You actually grew those! I mean, I knew you would, but there's a difference between knowing it and seeing it." He pressed a kiss to her temple and she gave another little shimmy of excitement, his reaction reviving her good mood. "I'm so proud of you. I hope you're proud of yourself too."

His words warmed her, and she spun in his arms so she could look him in the face as she replied.

"You know what?" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am proud of myself. I put in a lot of hard work and now it's paying off."

"It really is," he agreed. "You're almost ready to open, and a little bit ahead of schedule too."

She nodded in satisfaction, looking around the space. The biggest hurdles were over. The shop was beginning to feel less like a dream and more like a reality. And that was exciting, it really was, but…

She'd been so focused on the shop opening that she'd managed to let it obliterate the other main concern about her future: how long Liam was going to be in Whale Harbor. They'd had a number of dates where they'd talked about his future, and she knew he liked the town, but she also knew that he wasn't looking to stay in construction long-term. After building her shelves, he'd confessed that he wanted something that challenged him a bit more. He wasn't sure if that meant going back to Boston and firefighting… but he wasn't sure if it meant him staying either.

A heaviness overcame her. She'd been trying to block out how sad she would feel if he left, but more and more she realized that she was going to be pretty heartbroken over Liam Hiller if he went back to Boston.

"Hey," he said gently, drawing her back to the present. "What's going on in that beautiful brain of yours?"

She shook her head and smiled, dispelling her darker thoughts. Maybe she didn't know the future, but she didn't want to let fear of the future damage her experience of the present either. However much time she got with Liam, she planned to enjoy it to its fullest. He was part of her life now.

On that note…

"I have an idea," she said impulsively. "What do you say about joining me for dinner at my dad's tomorrow night? He heard through the Whale Harbor grapevine that we've been going out and he's been eager to meet you."

As soon as she suggested it, she worried that the question had been too impulsive. She and Liam hadn't been dating very long, after all. They hadn't had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend' talk, although she'd almost slipped and called him her boyfriend after he'd built her those shelves. Maybe it was too soon to meet the parents… or parent singular, as was her case.

On the other hand, she and her father were close. She wanted him to know Liam and vice versa.

"Not that you should feel pressured if it seems like it's too fast," she hastened to add. "I would love it and I know my dad would love it, but that absolutely doesn't mean that you have to love it. I won't be offended at all if you'd prefer not to."

"Claire," Liam interrupted her with a smile. "I would love to go to dinner at your dad's, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, feeling shivery with happiness.

They kissed, and she loved that too… although she couldn't help but remember the tendril of sadness at his potential departure, which poked through her thoughts with the same determination that her green little shoots poked their way out of the soil and into the sun.