Reflections

Brindleton Bay
Harbor Haute Cuisine Restaurant & Bar

Briar Rose sat at one of the prime window seats in the spacious restaurant section—a well-loved fixture of her upbringing in Brindleton Bay—while, beyond a separate bar area reserved for those of legal drinking age, laughter and conversation hummed among patrons. The warm midday light streamed through the glass, bathing the restaurant’s elegant interior in a golden glow. Her menu lay open before her, but her mind drifted beyond the carefully curated dishes. She gazed out at the bay, watching the waves lap against the docks, sailboats swaying gently in the harbor. She had spent her entire childhood and teenage years here—and during those years many countless dinners with family, carefree afternoons with friends, moments that had shaped her had taken place here at the restaurant. Time had changed so many things, yet the essence of this place remained the same.

The clinking of glassware brought her back to the moment as the waiter approached, setting a pale lavender-hued drink before her—a Violet Fizz, its delicate floral aroma wafting upward. She blinked in mild confusion.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t order anything yet,” she remarked, a faint edge of annoyance coloring her voice.

“No, Miss, that gentleman over there did,” the waiter replied smoothly, his hand gesturing toward the separate bar area. Her gaze followed his motion, scanning the dimmer section until it landed on a familiar figure. His golden curls seemed to catch the light like a halo, and there it was—the same mischievous grin that had melted so many hearts, including hers, back in the day.

Dr. Bradford Cunningham II, her first love, high school sweetheart, former love of her life—and heir to the Cunningham medical empire, grown from a small family practice many generations ago to a sprawling medical dynasty.

Brad raised his glass—a classic Old Fashioned, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that mirrored his rich memories of Briar Rose. The cocktail was understated but bold, a drink for someone with a refined taste and a hint of nostalgia—a man who could appreciate tradition yet carried the weight of it.

As Brad approached her table, the smile on his face was almost contagious. Briar Rose stood to greet him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. For a moment, he hesitated—just long enough for the past to flicker through his mind—before sinking into the embrace, his arms encircling her just as easily as they once had.

“Well, now that’s a head of curls I would recognize anywhere,” she said, beaming as they pulled apart. Time had refined his features, yet there was a familiar spark in his expression that still carried the boyish charm she remembered.

“I hope that was alright with you,” Brad began, motioning to the drink now on her table. “When I first saw you, I thought I was imagining things. Then I wanted to come over, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want  me to — or if you were here with someone. But here you are, seemingly all alone, and that just didn’t seem right.”

Briar Rose smiled, her expression softening. “Yes, I am alone,” she admitted, gesturing for him to sit. “I was in the area for work, San Myshuno to be exact, and thought I’d take some time to revisit my old hometown. Took an Uber out here, thinking my Aunt or Uncle could drive me back. It’s been so long. Walking around brought back so many memories—some things are just as I remember, but so much has changed. When I stumbled on this place, I couldn’t resist coming in. It used to be my favorite.”

Brad pulled out the chair across from her but paused, hesitant. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all,” she replied earnestly. “Unless, of course, you’re here with someone?”

Brad chuckled as he eased into the chair. “Oh, just the esteemed Gentlemen of the Bay—our old ‘Men Who Drink’ club over in the bar section. You remember that nonsense, don’t you?”

Briar Rose burst into laughter, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, I remember. My mom went to one Ladies Who Lunch meeting and came home furious. She called it the most pretentious thing she’d ever endured. My dad never even entertained joining your men’s club, no matter how many times he was asked.”

“Smart man,” Brad said, grinning. “You look amazing, Bri. How long has it been, feels like an eternity ago but also yesterday—how’s life treating you these days? How long will you be in town for?”

Before Briar Rose could answer, the waiter returned, looking to Brad for confirmation. “Dr. Cunningham, Sir, will you be joining the lady for lunch?”

“If Mrs. Kershaw will have me, I’d be honored,” Brad replied with a wink.

“She would love it,” Briar Rose interjected with a laugh. “But honestly, I’m so indecisive right now. The whole menu looks amazing, and I can’t decide.”

“May I?” Brad asked, nodding toward her menu.

“Please do,” she said, handing it over with a grateful smile.

Brad scanned the menu briefly before ordering with an effortless grace, his voice smooth and confident as he selected dishes. “And another round for us, please,” he added with a charming nod.

As the waiter disappeared, Briar Rose arched a brow. “Are you trying to get me tipsy?” she teased.

“Maybe,” Brad replied, his grin mischievous. “Anything to keep you around a little longer. How much time do I have before you disappear again?”

“Oh, I’m not in a rush. My next meeting isn’t until noon tomorrow.” Bri hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Oh, and… Brad… it’s probably no big deal, but… it’s Cameron again.”

Brad paused mid-sip of his drink, his eyebrows lifting slightly as his gaze darted to her ring finger. Bri noticed and lifted her now ringless hand, wiggling her fingers in the air.

Brad’s hand reached across the table, his palm warm and soft as it enveloped hers—a stark contrast to Jackson’s always rough and callused hands. “Is it okay to ask what happened, or is it still too fresh?” he asked gently.

“Well,” Bri began, her voice steady but tinged with weariness, “I think the official version is ‘irreconcilable differences.’ And that’s basically the long and short of it. Anything more would take me hours and hours to explain—and probably end with me sobbing. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t amicable. But it’s definitely over this time. No more of this. Never again.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, but her eyes betrayed the vulnerability lingering just beneath the surface.

Brad’s expression softened, his gaze steady as he nodded knowingly but chose to stay silent. The waiter reappeared at that moment with their drinks, placing them on the table before disappearing once again. Bri drained the last of her first Violet Fizz in one swift gulp, then took a healthy sip from the fresh one, the lavender floral notes swirling on her tongue.

“Don’t judge,” she said, her lips quirking into a wry smile as she set her glass down.

Brad raised his hands defensively, his expression warm and amused. “Wouldn’t dare. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Bri replied, shaking her head lightly as she avoided his gaze. “How’s work?”

Brad scoffed softly, his head tilting as he leaned back in his chair. “Work? Oh, Bri, come on—it’s me. I know it’s been a while, but you know me better than that. Work was the most important thing to my father—may he rest easy—but not to me. I’d much rather talk about you. How are you? How are the kids?”

“Well, let’s see. Man, you are right—it has been forever and a day. I think the last time I saw you was when Jackson was in the hospital in San Sequoia after the cougar attack. No, wait—we saw each other briefly when Jackson and I split the first time. Well, we got remarried, but that only lasted a little over a year. Jackson and I divorced again. He’s back at his ranch, and I’m living in the pool house at my parents’ estate in San Sequoia. My daughter, Briony, lives with me, but she’s back home right now—obviously, since she has school. My son…well, he lives with his father. He’s just like him, absolutely miserable in civilization.” Her voice faltered slightly, but she pushed through with a small shrug. “What about you?”

Brad’s smile flickered slightly, a hint of something melancholic flashing across his face before he leaned back and folded his arms. “Oh, you know things never change here in the Bay,” he began, his voice carrying a veneer of dry humor. “Just the typical seemingly perfect Brindleton Bay couple. Perfect kids. Perfectly appropriate estate, perfectly groomed. Perfect Thoroughbreds grazing in the pastures. Perfect cars in the driveway. We keep up the old traditions, join the boring meetings with even more boring people we don’t like—and who don’t like us.” His voice trailed off, the sarcasm lingering faintly in the air, but beneath it, there was a wistful honesty Bri could recognize instantly.

It made Bri laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners, the sound light and genuine. “Then why do it?”

“You’ve forgotten how things work here in the Bay,” Brad replied, his tone carrying a hint of dry humor. “We’re not as liberal as you San Sequoia folks.”

“Maybe you should move then,” Bri suggested, her voice teasing but earnest. “You can practice medicine anywhere, and your family has facilities in San Sequoia too, don’t you?”

Brad leaned closer, his expression shifting to mock seriousness as he whispered dramatically, “Shhh. All my ancestors dating back hundreds of years will haunt both of us if you say that again.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Bri retorted, narrowing her eyes playfully. “I may not remember all the old rules and ways, but I remember you—and I can still read you. What’s going on?”

Their food arrived, interrupting the moment and giving Brad a reprieve. Bri let it go, sensing that whatever was weighing on him wasn’t ready to surface yet. She wasn’t about to push—not today.

As the last plates were cleared, their server appeared with a discreet smile, placing the leather-bound check presenter beside Brad. Without missing a beat, he reached for it, his movements unhurried yet precise, exuding the effortless grace of someone accustomed to such rituals. Bri watched as he pulled a sleek black credit card from his wallet—a subtle emblem of the Cunningham legacy—and handed it off with a polite nod. The server returned moments later, offering Brad the receipt and card with a hint of reverence that spoke volumes about his reputation.

Brad signed the bill with a flourish, then reached into his wallet to produce several crisp bills. He laid them carefully on the tray alongside the receipt—a generous tip in cash that spoke to his thoughtful and personal approach to even the smallest details. With that, he tucked his credit card back into his wallet, his demeanor composed as always.

When the server departed, Brad leaned back, his eyes meeting hers. “May I commandeer your company for a while longer? The day is far too beautiful, and I find the company far too lovely to part ways just yet.”

Bri couldn’t help but smile. “I’d love a walk along the harbor. I missed this—so beautiful here. And we could walk off some of those decadent calories.”

He chuckled, standing and extending a hand to help her up. “A practical suggestion, as always.”

Together, they stepped into the crisp afternoon air, the salty tang of the ocean mingling with the distant hum of seagulls. Brad offered his arm, and she slipped her hand around it without hesitation. Her fingers brushed against the impossibly smooth fabric of his blazer, a stark contrast to the rugged denim and worn flannel her ex had lived in—a difference she was suddenly acutely aware of. It wasn’t just the clothes; it was everything about Brad—polished, composed, and entirely himself.

As they strolled along the harbor, the rhythmic sound of the waves became a soothing backdrop to their conversation. When the path narrowed, she reluctantly released his arm, but Brad’s hand shifted naturally to her back, a light, steadying touch. The warmth of it sent a flicker of something through her—unexpected, but not unpleasant.

The sunlight danced on the water, and Brad slowed his pace, glancing toward the ferry dock in the distance. “You know,” he said, his voice taking on a casual but inviting tone, “it’s been years since I’ve taken the ferry out to the island. The lighthouse is still as picturesque as ever. How about a short adventure? No better way to soak in the day.”

Bri hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her lips curving into a small smile. “Why not? I haven’t been there in ages either. Lead the way, Captain.”

He grinned, and together they made their way to the dock. Brad handled the tickets with his characteristic ease, and they boarded the ferry just as it prepared to depart.

The ferry ride to the small island was brief but enchanting. Brad leaned close as they stood by the railing, pointing to landmarks and weaving in bits of history or amusing anecdotes. “See that cluster of rocks over there?” he said, gesturing toward the water. “Jasper and I used to swim out there all the time. Once, we tried to build a secret fort on them. Spoiler alert: it didn’t survive the first tide. Are you still close with Jas? How is he doing these days? I know his acting took off, but how about the man behind the curtain?”

As Brad spoke, his voice rich and familiar, a subtle, refined scent caught her attention. It was an understated blend of something woody and fresh—distinctly masculine yet elegant, effortlessly fitting him. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now, standing so near with the sea breeze carrying it toward her, it was impossible to ignore. The fragrance was warm and grounding, like him, and it stirred something deep and unbidden within her—a flicker of a memory, perhaps, or something entirely new.

Bri’s smile softened as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper-aware of his nearness. She reminded herself to breathe, focusing on his words, but the pull of his presence was undeniable—steady, composed, and quietly captivating.

“We’re as close as ever. He’s doing great,” Bri said, her smile widening. “He just married my twin sister, Iris. And get this—they’re expecting baby number two.”

Brad stopped mid-gesture, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Iris Marie Cameron? Your Iris? The one who swore she’d never settle down or have kids? That Iris?”

“The very same. Well, Iris Marie Hargrave now,” Bri confirmed, laughing. “And I know, right? She’s still the same old feisty bitch though. But a great mom and she and Jas are just perfect together. They’re happy.”

Brad shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned. Jasper and Iris. Never saw that coming. Never thought they’d last. But hey, good for them. Her ex, Sterling still lives here, married, two kids, the usual Brindleton Bay lineup.”

When the ferry docked, they made their way up the trail to the lighthouse. The climb to the top of the lighthouse was steep, but the view was worth every step. The midday sun bathed the ocean in shimmering light, while the salty breeze carried the distant cries of seabirds. They were alone up there, the world below feeling distant and insignificant.

“Wow,” Bri sighed, her voice soft as she took in the breathtaking panorama. “It still feels so much like home. I forgot how beautiful Brindleton Bay is.” She blinked out toward the horizon, marveling at how different it felt from San Sequoia’s coastline.

Bri leaned against the railing, her honey-blonde waves catching the sunlight as the breeze played with her hair. Her light green eyes shimmered like the water stretching endlessly before them, framed by her warm complexion that seemed to glow in the golden light. It was effortless—the youthful beauty she carried and the poise she exuded—a quiet strength shaped by growing up in the spotlight.

Brad was close, his forearms propped on the railing as he gazed out at the horizon, his profile catching the sunlight. The wind tousled his soft, blonde curls, the boyish charm of his youth still evident, though now paired with a distinguished refinement. His striking blue eyes seemed to drink in the view before him, a quiet reverence in his expression. Bri took a steadying breath, her attention drawn to the subtle scent of cedar and citrus that lingered near him—warm, masculine, and grounding.

The air between them seemed to shift, charged with something neither of them spoke aloud. Before she could stop herself, Bri turned toward him, her decision made before she fully registered it. She reached out, her hands threading into his curls on either side, the softness of them catching her off guard. Closing the distance between them, her lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was hesitant yet deliberate.

Brad stiffened for the briefest moment, caught off guard. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pushed up from the railing, rising to his full height and turning to her. His arms found their way around her, steadying and drawing her close as the kiss deepened. What began softly grew into something powerful—a kiss brimming with all the longing, regret, and hope they had carried in silence for years. His response was unhesitating now, his movements deliberate yet filled with emotion, matching the intensity Bri hadn’t realized she was capable of feeling.

Her fingers gripped the fabric of his blazer, anchoring herself against the tidal wave of sensations—the warmth of his embrace, the intoxicating scent that seemed to belong entirely to him, the way his hands held her as if she were fragile yet unbreakable. Everything about him overwhelmed her in the most exhilarating way.

When the kiss broke, Brad lingered close, his forehead nearly brushing hers, his breath uneven, matching hers. Neither spoke, but the moment hung between them—a charged silence that said more than any words ever could. The midday sun blazed high above, but all Bri could feel was the heat of his presence and the storm swirling between them.

Brad swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “Does that answer your question from earlier? I am living a lie, Bri. A life I never wanted, with a woman I never loved. The Brindleton Bay way.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. The weight of his confession settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. She searched his face, the blue of his eyes now shadowed with something raw and unguarded. The world around them seemed to fade—the cries of seabirds, the rhythmic crash of waves—all drowned out by the intensity of the moment.

The Sunset of Yesterdays

The ferry ride back to the mainland was silent, but it wasn’t the calm kind. It was charged, heavy with what had just happened at the lighthouse. Brad sat beside her on the wooden bench, his shoulder brushing hers as the mid-afternoon sun cast its golden rays across the rippling water. The wind tugged strands of her hair loose, sending them fluttering as if caught in the rhythm of the waves. He didn’t say a word, but his hands were restless, clasping and unclasping in his lap—a rare show of unease from the usually composed man.

Briar Rose’s thoughts raced, fragments of the kiss still playing in her mind—the warmth of his lips, the way his arms had enveloped her like a memory she had long buried but never truly forgotten. The old hurt had risen up, sharp and fresh, yet so had something else. Something wild, reckless, and undeniably alive. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting toward the water as the salty breeze stung her cheeks, a faint distraction from the storm inside her.

“Brad,” she started, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “That shouldn’t have happened. It was wrong of me. I am so sorry.”

He let out a long breath, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m not,” he said quietly, though his tone held no conviction. The words hung in the air between them, uncertain yet sincere, carrying a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly, glancing at her from beneath his tousled curls. “Did it feel wrong to you?”

She froze, his words settling over her like a challenge. Of course it felt wrong—he was married, and the ink was barely dry on her divorce papers. But when she closed her eyes, all she could feel was Brad’s touch, his scent, the way it had reignited something deep within her—something she hadn’t realized she missed. It was consuming, overwhelming, and terrifyingly real.

Instead of answering, she simply looked at him. The way his curls fell just above his brow, the faint lines around his eyes more pronounced now but no less familiar, the way he still smelled—clean yet intoxicating, masculine yet elegant. The faint notes of cedar mingled with a hint of salt from the sea—a fragrance so effortlessly refined it was almost maddeningly irresistible. It all came rushing back, and with it, the ache of what they had once been.

The ferry jolted as it docked, breaking the spell. Brad stood first, offering his hand to help her off the boat. She hesitated for only a moment, then took it, the touch lingering just a heartbeat too long.

Take Me Home

They walked up the sloping pathway from the ferry dock, the sound of the waves fading behind them as they approached the main road. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden brilliance over the scene. They reached the edge of the parking lot—the place where their ways should have naturally parted—but neither seemed ready to take that step. An awkward silence lingered, the kind that felt too heavy to break.

Brad shifted on his feet, his hands slipping casually into the pockets of his blazer. Finally, he gestured toward the parking lot with a subtle nod. “Can I offer you a ride back to your hotel?” he asked, his voice light but edged with something unspoken.

Her words finally came, slow and deliberate, as though each one had to be measured carefully. “Well, theoretically, my Aunt Michelle was supposed to drive me,” she admitted, her voice soft but tinged with weariness. “Honestly, though, I don’t feel like family right now. It’s the same old topics—ones I don’t want to discuss over and over again. If you mean it—if you really mean it—and if it’s not an inconvenience, I’d like that.”

Brad’s lips curved into a faint smile, equal parts warmth and mischief. He gestured toward the parking lot, the sunlight glinting off the polished metal of the cars. “An inconvenience?” he repeated lightly, his tone carrying the ease of someone who saw none at all. “Bri, it’d be a crime to part ways now. Decided then. I’m parked just over there,” he said, gesturing with a slight tilt of his head.

Her guarded expression softened slightly as she met his gaze, the smallest of smiles breaking through. Together, they started toward the parking lot, their steps falling into an easy rhythm.

The midday sun cast long shadows across the rows of vehicles, the light shimmering against their polished surfaces. The faint hum of conversation and the occasional clang of a car door drifted on the breeze as they walked between the rows. Brad slowed his pace as they neared his sleek, gunmetal gray Aston Martin DBX. The car stood out effortlessly, its understated elegance commanding attention. Briar Rose’s gaze lingered on it for a moment, the faintest flicker of admiration crossing her face before she looked back at him.

“This is me,” he said, stopping beside the car with a hint of casual pride.

As her gaze returned to the car, she suddenly placed a hand on his arm, her touch unexpectedly urgent. Brad turned to face her, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

“Brad,” she began, her voice quiet but firm, “I forgot to mention—I’m not staying in town. I’m all the way out in San Myshuno. It’s at least an hour, probably closer to two one way.”

Brad’s expression shifted, his grin widening as he straightened and reached to open the passenger door for her. The sleek handle responded with a satisfying click beneath his hand, and the door swung open effortlessly, new car smell and leather wafted out. “Perfect! More time with you, then,” he said, his tone a seamless mix of warmth and humor. “I’ve waited a decade to sit in a car alone with you again—I’d drive you back home to San Sequoia if it meant I got a few more extra minutes.”

Her breath hitched faintly at his words, which settled over her like a gentle wave. She blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the sweetness of his tone. Without a word, she slid into the passenger seat. Brad gave the door a soft but deliberate push, closing it with care, before rounding the front of the car, his heartbeat drumming louder than he cared to admit.

A Drive Beneath the Afternoon Light

The drive to San Myshuno was quiet at first, the hum of the engine blending with the soft rustle of wind outside. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the rich leather interior of the car. Brad’s hands rested easily on the wheel, though his gaze flickered toward Briar Rose more often than the road demanded.

As they drove, the silence gave way to soft laughter as they began exchanging lighthearted anecdotes from their youth and college days. They reminisced about spontaneous road trips, late-night study sessions fueled by terrible coffee, and the ridiculous pranks Jasper used to rope them into. It was easy—effortless, even—to slip into the comfort of those shared memories, the kind that felt far enough away to almost belong to another lifetime. For a moment, the years that had passed seemed to fade, and the weight of reality melted into the warmth of their laughter.

As the sprawling skyline of San Myshuno began to rise in the distance, Brad broke the silence that had settled between their conversations, his voice thoughtful. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Being here with you again. Feels like we’re stepping into some parallel timeline—one where things didn’t… end the way they did.”

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, in a way,” she replied, her voice quiet. “I often wondered what would have been, if …”

Brad let out a soft sigh, his fingers tightening briefly on the wheel. “Yeah, me too.”

A Door Left Ajar

The Aston Martin glided to a smooth stop under the grand entrance of The Skyline Regency luxury hotel, the sunlight gleaming against its mirrored facade. The midday bustle of arrivals and departures created a quiet energy that surrounded them, a backdrop of sleek black sedans and rolling luggage. A valet in a sharp, tailored uniform stepped forward as Brad exited the car, his movements crisp and practiced.

Brad moved with easy confidence, handing the keys to the valet with a polite nod as he discreetly slipped a folded bill into the man’s hand. “Thank you,” he said simply, his tone warm but subdued. Meanwhile, another valet approached the passenger side, opening the door with practiced precision for Briar Rose. She stepped out with effortless grace, smoothing her coat as her heels clicked lightly on the polished pavement.

Brad met her near the curb, handing a second valet a tip with the same understated elegance. “Thank you,” he murmured again before turning his full attention to her. Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, the world beyond the mirrored facade seemed to fade.

Together, they started toward the expansive lobby, walking side by side. Their steps fell into rhythm naturally, without deliberate synchronization, amplifying the quiet electricity that lingered between them. Occasionally, Briar Rose brushed lightly against Brad, the movement unintentional yet charged with a subtle intimacy that neither addressed aloud. She instinctively stepped closer as they navigated through the grand entrance, drawn by the energy that seemed to connect them.

The air inside was cool, carrying a faint floral note mingled with the clean scent of polished marble. Natural light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft brilliance across the lobby. The rich marbling beneath their feet gleamed, and the intricate chandeliers above sent delicate reflections dancing across the surfaces. Strategically placed mirrors caught glimpses of passing guests, expanding the room’s grandeur with their shimmering depth.

Briar Rose’s heels tapped lightly against the marble floor, a rhythm that matched the faint hum of conversation around them. She couldn’t ignore the quiet tension lingering between her and Brad as they moved deeper into the space—a pull that hung unspoken in the air, palpable yet elusive.

It was in one of those mirrors that Briar Rose caught their reflection. The sight stopped her briefly, her gaze lingering as Brad continued a step ahead, unaware of her pause until she quickly caught up to him again. They looked good together. No—great. They looked as though they belonged. She couldn’t help but take in how his tailored jacket complemented his poised shoulders, how her sleek coat and carefully styled hair matched the sophistication of the setting. For a fleeting moment, they could have been anyone—an elegant couple returning to their suite after a busy day in the city.

The thought struck her unexpectedly, cutting through her train of admiration. It felt strange, walking into a place like this without the shadow of Jackson’s ever-present cowboy hat and boots trailing behind her. While they fit him perfectly on his ranch, they had always looked embarrassingly out of place in settings like this one, drawing wary glances and muffled whispers from staff. His discomfort in such environments had bled into every interaction—stiff postures, curt words, and the constant air of resistance that made Briar Rose feel like she never quite belonged, either.

There was no discomfort now, no sidelong glances or tension. She felt lighter, freer—and yet, the realization carried a bittersweet edge she couldn’t quite shake. She was here with a man who appreciated luxury, who didn’t bemoan it or question its necessity, but moved within it with natural poise, as it had always been a part of him as much as it had always been a part of her life.

Brad turned back toward her, noticing her pause. His blue eyes softened as they met hers. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice steady and warm, pulling her gently back into the moment.

Briar Rose blinked, her lips curving into a faint smile as she caught up to him. “Yeah,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just admiring the view.”

Upward, Together

They reached the elevator and stepped inside, the soft chime marking their ascent. Brad and Briar Rose stood side by side in the quiet enclosure, the hum of the elevator filling the space as the numbers lit up one by one. Bri’s eyes were fixed on the display, but her thoughts were scattered, swirling somewhere between the past and the present. She was acutely aware of Brad’s presence next to her—the warmth radiating from him, the scent of cedar and the sea lingering faintly in the air, masculine and elegant. The sheer nearness of him was both intoxicating and unnerving.

Without thinking, her hand brushed against his. Neither of them moved at first, and then, almost shyly, their fingers began to toy with each other—just the softest, most fleeting touches. It wasn’t deliberate, not at first, but neither of them pulled away. The tension in the small space grew, palpable and taut, and Bri could feel her heart pounding faster, her pulse nearly deafening in her ears. Just as the elevator neared her floor, Brad’s hand moved decisively, sliding over hers and enveloping it. His touch was firm yet tender, grounding her. Bri closed her eyes for a moment, her chest tightening as she focused on the simple, undeniable feeling of his palm against hers.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal a plush, carpeted hallway bathed in warm light. They stepped out together, their hands still entwined until Bri gently let hers slip free, her fingers grazing his. Her heels clicked softly against the intermittent non-carpeted sections of the floor as they walked side by side toward her room, their silence heavy but charged.

When they reached the door, Bri stopped and turned to face him, her lips parting as though to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Finally, she managed a small, hesitant smile, gesturing lightly toward the door behind her. “This is me,” she said softly, her voice laced with a quiet tension.

Her fingers curled around the key card as she slid it out of her bag, trembling ever so slightly. The moment stretched taut between them, her breath hitching as she tried to gauge his expression. Just as she lifted the card, Brad’s hand moved, brushing lightly against hers as he gently took the card from her grasp.

“Allow me,” he said, his voice low and steady, carrying a gallant edge that felt almost timeless. It was the kind of charm that seemed drawn from another era, steeped in the old-world grace of Brindleton Bay’s elite. The gesture, simple and practiced, sent a shiver through her. He slid the card into the slot with ease, the lock clicking open. With a soft push, he eased the door ajar before turning back to her.

The key card rested in his hand for just a moment longer as he returned it, his fingers lingering against hers. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the mirror mounted on the hallway wall. Her reflection stared back at her—close, intimate, undeniably altered. Her gaze shifted to Brad’s image just behind her, and it wasn’t simply the sight of them together that struck her—it was the weight of it. His presence filled the space around her, the way he looked at her as if the world beyond that hallway didn’t exist.

Bri turned back to him, her hand tightening on the doorframe. “Brad…” she began, her voice soft, wavering. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. My life is very complicated at the moment.” Her gaze rose to meet his, steady yet imploring.

Brad stepped closer, one hand brushing against the frame beside hers, his nearness nearly overwhelming. “Complicated doesn’t scare me, Bri,” he said, his tone quiet but resolute. “You know it never has. Your life was always complicated.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, his words cutting through her like a blade. When his hand moved to her cheek, his touch was impossibly familiar, a warmth that she felt in her very bones. She leaned into it, her eyes fluttering shut, and his lips found hers.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, nor was it hesitant. It was steady and deliberate, a melding of everything they had been and everything they still were to each other. It carried the weight of years, of longing, of lives that had unfolded too far apart. Time seemed to fold into itself, the hallway fading until nothing remained but the two of them.

When they finally broke apart, Brad lingered, his forehead resting against hers as he struggled to steady his breath. Silence stretched between them, delicate and tenuous. He closed his eyes, swallowing against the surge of emotions threatening to undo him. He had to leave. Now. While he still could.

“I… gotta go,” he murmured, his voice croaky and uneven, rough with emotion. “I… I have to.” His words felt hollow, as if spoken to convince himself more than her.

He turned abruptly, stepping into the hallway. His stride was uneven at first, but as the distance between them grew, his pace quickened, the soft thud of his footsteps echoing in the stillness. Reaching the elevator bank, he pressed the call button, the glow of the indicator light sharp against the dim corridor. His chest tightened as he waited, his thoughts a storm of emotions—guilt, longing, confusion. The soft chime of the arriving elevator pulled him out of his reverie.

But before the doors could open fully, her voice cut through the quiet, fragile yet resolute.

“Brad,” she called, her tone no louder than a whisper.

He froze, his breath hitching as he turned, the elevator forgotten. His gaze caught hers down the hall, and the sight made his heart twist. Briar Rose was running toward him, her coat billowing slightly behind her, her heels clicking hurriedly against the floor. The golden light of the hallway softened her features, but her expression—unguarded and open—hit him like a tidal wave.

As she reached him, she slowed, coming to a stop just inches away. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, her gaze locking onto his. Without hesitation, she leaned in, placing a quick kiss on his lips. Before he could respond, her hand moved to his jacket pocket, slipping something inside with deliberate care. Her fingers brushed against the silky fabric briefly before retreating.

“Drive safe,” she murmured, her voice gentle but weighted with meaning. The words settled over him, sinking deep into the silence. Then, without another word, she turned and walked back toward her room, her figure retreating until the door clicked softly shut behind her.

The Elevator Revelation

As Brad rode the elevator back down to the lobby, he slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small item she had left. Pulling it out, his breath caught as he stared at the hotel key card.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the lobby, but he made no move to step out immediately. Instead, he stood there, the weight of the key card in his palm pulling him into a decision he had already made the moment she kissed him back at the lighthouse.

Late Night Knocks

The soft knock echoed through the suite, pulling Briar Rose out of her thoughts. She had been sitting cross-legged on the small sofa near the window, her focus drifting as she gazed at the city skyline beyond the glass, lost in thoughts and memories. The digital alarm clock read 8:29 PM. The warm glow of the lamp spilled across her casual outfit—a pale green light cashmere hoodie that mirrored her crystalline light green eyes, paired with sleek, figure-hugging yoga pants. Her honey blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching hints of golden light as she tucked one strand absentmindedly behind her ear.

When she opened the door, Brad stood in the hallway, framed by the dim light that softened his sharp features, holding out her room key card between two fingers.

“I believe you accidentally dropped this into the pocket of my sports coat,” he quipped, winking.

He was dressed impeccably, his tailored navy suit fitting him like it was made for this very moment. His blonde curls reflected the light, adding to the polished aura he carried, but it was his piercing blue eyes that met hers, locking onto her with quiet intensity.

Briar Rose didn’t miss a beat. Reaching out, she grabbed his wrist lightly and tugged him inside along with the card. “You and your key card might as well come inside,” she said breezily, though her pulse quickened at the closeness between them. The door clicked shut behind them, the soft hum of the city outside replaced by the warm, intimate glow of the suite.

Brad held up the bottle of champagne and the small paper bag he’d been carrying, his lips curving into a subtle smile. “I come bearing gifts,” he said, his voice warm. “This,” he added, handing her the bag, “is from the specialty shop on Main in the Bay. I don’t know if you still have a sweet tooth, but I remembered these were your favorites.”

Her fingers brushed his as she took the bag, her expression softening as she peeked inside. The familiar confections—the ones she used to sneak with Brad during carefree summer days and late-night study sessions—brought an unbidden smile to her lips.

“OMG, no way! You remembered! I haven’t had these in ages,” Bri murmured, her voice tinged with warmth as she glanced up at him.

“Of course,” Brad replied, his gaze steady. “I remember everything.”

Bri perched herself on the edge of the sofa, the bag resting on her lap as she opened it, her curiosity brimming. She sifted through the contents, letting the memories flood back as she examined each treat with a soft, appreciative hum. Picking out a delicate white chocolate  truffle dusted with coconut, she smelled it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. The rich, velvety flavor melted on her tongue, drawing out a small sigh of delight.

“I think I just died and went to heaven! They’re just as good as I remember,” she said, her smile widening as she reached for another piece—a bite-sized caramel wrapped in gold foil. “You’ve outdone yourself, Dr. Cunningham. Seriously.”

Brad chuckled, watching her with quiet amusement. “I think it’s the specialty shop that deserves the credit. Not me.”

“Well, they made it but you brought them,” Bri admitted, playfully arching a brow at him as she unwrapped the caramel. But as she turned the piece over in her fingers, she smiled.

Without giving Brad time to protest, she leaned forward and gently fed him the caramel, her fingers brushing his lips in the process. The teasing gesture was lighthearted, but the closeness between them made the moment linger longer than either of them expected.

Brad bit down on the caramel, the sweetness filling his senses as his smirk turned into a grin. “I could get used to this,” he said, his tone carrying the warmth of their shared history.

“Well, you know where they sell them,” Bri quipped, her crystalline green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I didn’t mean the candy,” Brad replied, his voice dropping slightly as his gaze held hers. “I meant the feeding.”

The air grew heavier between them, the teasing giving way to a quiet, unspoken tension. After a beat, Brad glanced toward the corner of the suite where the mini fridge, coffeemaker, and small selection of supplies sat neatly on a counter. “Let me grab some ice for the champagne,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something beneath the surface. He crossed the room, picking up the bucket before stepping out the door.

Left alone, Bri exhaled, her gaze wandering until it landed on her reflection in the mirror across the room. The lamplight softened her features, her honeyed waves tumbling loosely around her shoulders and her casual sweater draping elegantly over her frame. Her lips parted slightly as she stared at herself, the question echoing in her mind: Bri, what are you doing?

A light knock broke the silence, and Bri blinked sharply, snapping out of her reverie. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Brad standing there, the ice bucket in hand and a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

He stepped inside and set the bucket on the counter, retrieving the bottle of champagne from earlier. Picking up the corkscrew, he expertly twisted it into the cork, the sound of metal against glass filling the quiet room. With a loud pop, the cork released, and the gentle fizz of bubbles rose to the surface. The scent of the champagne, light and effervescent with floral and citrus notes, filled the air. Bri held out two glasses, the delicate stems catching the lamplight as Brad poured the golden liquid into each one.

They clinked glasses, the faint chime ringing out like the start of something unspoken. Bri watched him closely over the rim of her glass, the bubbles tickling her nose as she took a sip. Her pulse quickened as her gaze flickered to their reflection in the mirror. She caught a fleeting glimpse of them together—his tailored navy suit against her cozy green sweater, her honeyed hair and his lighter blond curls both touched by gold in the lamplight. They looked like they belonged in this room, in this moment, together.

Brad lowered his glass slightly, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers in the reflection. The weight of the moment hung between them, rich with both nostalgia and possibilities neither dared voice aloud.

Brad shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it carefully over the back of a chair, then turned back to her, his easy smile returning. “You look uncomfortable. Regretting your subtle hint of slipping me the key? I can leave. Just tell me, Bri,” he wondered, his voice warm, steady.

“No,” Briar Rose replied, letting her lips curve into a soft smile, “I just don’t habitually invite men to my hotel room.”

He grinned, motioning toward the bag. “Well, maybe a sip of some Moet and some of those confections you used to love will sweeten the deal.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she took one of the delicate pastries from the bag. “That just makes me sound like a really cheap whore now.”

“I know one doesn’t speak about how much things cost, but I can confidently say there is nothing cheap about any of this.” He winked.

Reflections

Their conversation ebbed and flowed, filled with laughter and teasing, but as the evening stretched on, Briar Rose found herself glancing toward the mirror again and again. It caught them perfectly. They really did look great together. Coherent. As she recently found out for the umpteenth time that opposites really don’t work out.

The sight tugged at her heart, stirring something she didn’t want to name. This felt different from walking into places with Jackson—no wary glances from staff, no tension filling the air. Brad had always made everything feel easier. And tonight, in this room, it felt… right. Easy. Cozy. Familiar.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Brad’s voice pulled her from her reflections, his blue eyes steady as they studied her.

Briar Rose let out a soft sigh, her smile faltering slightly. “Just… how strange it is to feel this comfortable,” she admitted quietly.

Brad reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her hand. “Can I be honest, Bri,” he asked softly, “It feels comfortable because it’s meant to be. We just always … fit.”

Crossing the Line

The lighthearted ease between them dissolved, replaced by a tension that crackled in the air like a storm about to break. Brad reached for Briar Rose’s hand, his grip warm and firm, grounding her even as the world seemed to tilt. His gaze locked onto hers, the shimmer in her green eyes pulling him in, as though they held all the answers to questions he didn’t dare ask aloud.

“This…” Briar Rose began, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of what she was about to say. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know,” Brad interrupted, his voice low and steady, though it carried an edge of something raw, something she couldn’t quite name. “It’s wrong. But it feels right.”

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as his words settled over her. Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a deliberate slowness that unraveled every boundary they’d fought to hold. The kiss deepened, consuming them both, a pull so magnetic it left no room for hesitation. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as though anchoring herself to him, even as the world around them seemed to fall away.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the quiet glow of the room, the silence between them heavy with unspoken truths. Briar Rose stared at him, her green eyes searching his face, looking for something—reassurance, absolution, or perhaps a reason to stop. “Brad…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Are we really those people? Once we cross this line, there’s no going back. Can you live with that? Is this really what we want? Is this us?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. “It is us. I can feel it—you feel it too. They pulled us apart, Bri. We tried to fight it, but we were so young. We didn’t stand a chance back then. We were robbed of our chance. But now…” He paused, his voice softening, his hand brushing against her cheek. “Now we’re reclaiming it. We’re still young, but old enough to make our own choices. There’s no one left to tell me what to do. I am the patriarch now.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching at the weight of his words. “And I am the other woman,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Brad, I’m not sure I’m the right person for that.”

“Bri,” he said, his tone sharpening with urgency. “You didn’t hear me earlier, so let me be clear: you are the ONLY woman for me. Everything else—everything—was forced on me. I didn’t marry Molly for love. I didn’t choose for us to have the first child, and she got pregnant with the second when I started talking about separation. None of it was my choice. But this—us—this is my choice.”

Her gaze held his, the conflict in her eyes giving way to something deeper, something resolute. The air between them seemed to hum with the weight of their decision, the inevitability of what came next. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was softer, but no less consuming. Her hands slid down to his chest, her fingers splaying over his heart as though feeling its rhythm.

And then, with a quiet determination, she moved, sliding onto his lap and straddling him. The decision was made, not in words, but in the space between their breaths, in the way their bodies gravitated toward each other as though pulled by an unseen force. Her hands framed his face, her thumbs brushing against his jawline as she kissed him again, deeper this time, her heart pounding in sync with his.

Familiarity Finds Them

The hours after the decision became a blur—a mixture of passion and tenderness, of rediscovery and surrender. Clothes were shed with a natural familiarity, each piece falling away like the barriers they’d held between them for years. Briar Rose pulled Brad deeper into her world, their connection reigniting in ways both familiar and unfamiliar. Their kisses were interspersed with soft laughter, whispered memories of their youth, and the quiet awe of finding each other again. They traced the lines of each other’s faces like maps they hadn’t visited in years, rediscovering every curve and contour with reverence.

At one point, the room fell quiet, the city’s hum muffled by the heavy drapes. Brad rested on his side, his fingers trailing through Briar Rose’s honey blonde waves, watching the way the soft light kissed her green eyes. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the silence between them heavy with unspoken truths.

“You still take my breath away, Bri,” he murmured, his voice low and full of reverence. His fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “Your eyes… they look like the purest peridots.”

She turned toward him, her gaze steady but trembling slightly. Her fingers mirrored his, brushing against his cheek with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “It’s strange,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of their shared history. “How easy it feels to fall back into this. Like we never… parted. Like it’s always been this way.”

Brad’s blue eyes searched hers, his expression soft but resolute. “Some things were never meant to end,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with longing. “Maybe this is one of those things. Actually, it’s what I’ve always thought. You and I, Bri—that’s how this story should have gone.”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching as his words settled over her. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of their choices hanging between them, unresolved but undeniable. The air seemed to hum with the tension of what they’d done, what they were doing, and what it meant for the lives they’d built apart.

With a smirk that carried both mischief and invitation, Bri rose from the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate. She crossed the room toward the bathroom, her honey blonde waves cascading over her shoulders as she disappeared through the doorway. The sound of running water filled the space, the soft rush of the shower breaking the quiet. After a moment, she stuck her head out, her green eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and vulnerability.

“Are you coming?” she asked, her voice light but charged, the invitation unmistakable.

Brad didn’t hesitate. He rose with surprising speed, his movements purposeful as he followed her, the door clicking softly shut behind them

The Quiet Departure

The quiet of the room eventually gave way to the inevitability of parting. Briar Rose sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the plush carpet. She absently pulled at the hem of the crisp white shirt she wore—it was Brad’s, the faintest scent of cedar and sea still clinging to the fabric. Her hands paused as she watched him zip up his pants, the tailored lines of his trousers sharpening with the motion.

Brad glanced at her, his lips curving into a soft, almost rueful smile. “I’m going to need this,” he said, nodding toward the shirt. A flicker of something warmer passed through his gaze. “Even though it does look a lot better on you.”

Bri tilted her head, her eyes playful as they held his. “Come and get it, then.”

His laugh was soft, almost under his breath, as he stepped toward her. With a gentleness that belied the tension hanging in the room, his fingers lingered for a moment as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, and he leaned down to kiss her—slow, deliberate, as though savoring the seconds before they slipped away entirely.

He pulled the shirt on, the motions fluid and practiced, though his eyes never left hers. When he finished, Bri, completely naked now, rose to meet him, her fingers moving instinctively to fasten the buttons. The moment felt quiet, intimate in a way that needed no words. She tucked the shirt into his pants, smoothing the fabric as her hands drifted lower. When she reached for the belt in his hands, pulling it from his hands, then threading it through the loops, Brad stilled, his breath catching faintly as her movements intoxicated him.

When he was dressed fully once more, the silence between them felt heavier, more profound. Briar Rose settled back onto the edge of the bed, her gaze following him as he retrieved his suit jacket from the chair. He turned back to her, his blue eyes darker now, as though the night had settled into them. “I have to go,” he said finally, his voice steady but reluctant.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I know,” she said softly, though her words felt hollow even to herself.

Brad stepped closer, his hand cupping her face as he leaned in for one last kiss—slow, lingering, like a farewell that wasn’t quite ready to be spoken. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers for a fleeting moment before he exhaled and stepped away.

At the door, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as though hoping she’d call him back. But Briar Rose stayed silent, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Brad wait,” she said, he halted and turned back to her, as she came after him, now wrapped in a blanket. “Here.”

She handed him a small piece of paper, torn from a hotel letter pad with just a number on it. Their eyes met, he nodded.

A Thief in the Night

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible as Brad slipped out like a thief, his footsteps muted against the carpeted floor. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall, his hand instinctively reaching for the piece of paper still tucked into his pocket as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming it.

He stared at it for a moment, his thoughts swirling. The night had been wrong, he knew that, but it had also been right in ways he couldn’t explain. For the first time in a decade, he felt truly alive. The weight he’d carried—the dull, predictable rhythm of his days—had been lifted, if only for a fleeting moment, and the realization was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The elevator doors opened into the quiet lobby, the low, ambient lighting reflecting on the polished marble floors. As he approached the valet counter, Brad handed over his ticket, his mind still racing with the emotions of the evening. While he waited, he caught his reflection in the sleek glass doors—his tailored suit now slightly rumpled, a shadow of weariness beneath his eyes. He looked like a man torn between two worlds.

Moments later, the valet pulled his car to the front entrance, the engine purring softly as Brad stepped outside into the cool night air. The brisk wind brushed against his face, grounding him just slightly as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Gripping the steering wheel, he sat in silence for a moment, the piece of paper with her number burning a hole in his pocket.

As he drove through the city streets, the weight of the night settled over him. He wondered when he’d see her again, how he’d make it work, and what it would mean for the life he’d built as a husband and father. But even as guilt whispered in the back of his mind, another voice—the one that had driven him to her door in the first place—urged him forward. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time in years, he felt like he had something to hold onto. Something worth fighting for.

The First Reach

Briar Rose stepped out of the glassy studio building, the brisk afternoon breeze tugging at the hem of her coat as she walked down the steps. The radio interview had gone smoothly—another obligatory stop on her promo tour, another well-rehearsed series of answers. Yet, as she pulled her phone from her bag and turned it on, her carefully constructed focus wavered.

The screen lit up with a missed call and a text message from an unknown number. Her thumb hovered over it in an instinct, a flicker of caution making her consider deleting it outright. Could it be …? Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the message.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. When can I see you again?”

Her breath caught. The air around her seemed to still, the city’s noise fading into the background as Brad’s words anchored her to the moment. For a fleeting second, she wanted to shove the phone back into her bag, to leave the message unanswered. But another part of her—a part she didn’t want to examine too closely—felt a quiet thrill at the thought of him reaching out.

She hesitated before typing back, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the keyboard. “I have to fly back later today.” She hit send, her heart racing as she watched the three little dots appear almost immediately in response.

“When?”

“7.”

“I can be at your hotel in 20 minutes. I am on the bridge, stuck in traffic. Just say the word and we can have lunch.”

“The word.”

A Second Meeting

Briar Rose entered the lounge area of her hotel, a soft warmth enveloping her as the afternoon sunlight spilled through the high windows. The room’s ambiance was understated but refined—dark wood accents, plush seating, and the gentle hum of conversation weaving through the air. She spotted Brad immediately. He was seated by the window, his coat folded neatly over the back of his chair. A table had been set with precision—a light lunch accompanied by glasses of white wine, chilled and sparkling under the sunlight.

When his gaze met hers, his blue eyes softened, lighting up in a way that made her heartbeat quicken. Brad rose as she approached, his movements smooth and deliberate. “You came,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of relief.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Briar Rose replied, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I haven’t checked out yet, and my luggage is upstairs. You’ve always had a way of getting me to say yes.”

Brad smirked faintly, stepping forward and pulling out her chair with an old-world gallantry that felt both charming and poignant. “I wish that were true,” he said quietly, his tone laced with warmth.

Their conversation ebbed and flowed with ease, alternating between playful banter and reflective moments. The meal was light—a collection of delicate plates that felt both indulgent and understated—and the wine carried notes of crisp apples and honey, adding an elegant touch to their shared time.

At one point, Brad leaned back, studying her with a quiet intensity that made her heart flutter. “You’ve always looked at me like that,” Briar Rose murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?” he asked, his tone steady but curious.

“Like I’m some unsolvable mystery you’re determined to figure out,” she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Brad tilted his head, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe I don’t want to solve you. Maybe I just want to keep learning you,” he replied softly, his gaze never wavering.

Before she could respond, the pianist in the corner transitioned into Dean Martin’s “You Belong To Me.” The mellow tune floated through the room like a gentle breeze, weaving its way into their shared silence. Briar Rose’s gaze flicked to Brad, her fingers idly tapping the rim of her glass in time with the melody.

“You want to dance,” Brad said, his voice low and knowing.

“No one dances here,” she replied softly, her teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, we will,” Brad countered with ease, rising and extending a hand toward her. “Come on, Bri.”

She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his, letting him guide her to the small open space near the piano. The music wrapped around them like a gentle embrace as they swayed together, their movements seamless despite the spontaneity of it all.

The other guests glanced at them, some with subtle smiles, others with curiosity, but Brad didn’t seem to notice—or care. His focus remained entirely on Briar Rose, his blue eyes searching hers as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

As they danced, Briar Rose felt the weight of everything she’d been holding onto begin to crack. The walls she’d built around herself—walls of guilt, fear, longing—were crumbling under the quiet strength of his presence. Brad’s arm tightened gently around her waist, his breath brushing against her temple as he leaned closer.

When the song ended, the room broke into quiet applause. Briar Rose laughed softly, the sound light but tinged with emotion as she rested her forehead against Brad’s chest. For a moment, she stayed there, letting herself savor the connection she’d thought she’d lost forever.

After their dance and light lunch in the lounge, Brad escorted Briar Rose back toward the lobby. The warmth of the afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, guiding her with a quiet confidence that felt both grounding and intimate.

As they reached the reception desk, Briar Rose turned to him, her honey blonde waves catching the light. “I’ll just grab my bags and check out,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with the weight of their impending goodbye.

Brad nodded, his blue eyes holding hers for a moment longer before he stepped back. “I’ll wait here,” he replied, his tone calm but resolute. He handed the valet ticket to the attendant with practiced ease, ensuring the car would be ready when she returned.

Briar Rose disappeared into the elevator, leaving Brad standing in the lobby. He glanced around, his gaze settling on the grand chandelier overhead, its crystals catching the sunlight in a way that reminded him of her eyes. The minutes stretched, each one heavier than the last, but he remained rooted, his thoughts swirling with the weight of the day.

When Briar Rose returned, her suitcase trailing behind her, Brad stepped forward without hesitation. He took the handle from her, his grip firm but gentle, and gestured toward the exit. “Let’s get you to the airport,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of reluctance.

A Hopeful Goodbye

Brad drove her to the airport, the ride quiet but not uncomfortable. The city blurred around them, the hum of the car filling the silence as neither seemed willing to break the moment with words that wouldn’t be enough. Briar Rose rested her head against the window, her honey blonde waves catching the shifting light, her thoughts swirling with the day’s events.

As they pulled up to the airport terminal, Brad parked the car with practiced ease. He stepped out before Briar Rose could even reach for the handle and walked around to her side, opening her door with the same effortless charm that made her chest ache. Without a word, he retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, his hands steady on the handle as he set it down beside her.

“You really didn’t have to get out,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both gratitude and hesitation.

“Of course I do,” he replied simply, his blue eyes meeting hers. “I’m not about to let you wrestle with this alone—not until I absolutely have to let go.”

Briar Rose’s lips curved into a faint smile as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The soft glow of the terminal lights caught her features, highlighting the bittersweet expression in her eyes. Together, they walked toward the doors, her suitcase trailing quietly behind him as though it was merely an extension of his resolve to stay connected to her for just a little longer.

Before they reached the bustling entryway, Brad paused, setting the suitcase upright beside her. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small paper bag, holding it between them with the same understated elegance that seemed to define him.

“I almost forgot,” he said, his voice warm but tinged with a quiet intensity. “I stopped by the shop on Main before coming here. These…” He handed her the bag, his fingers brushing hers lightly. “…are for the flight. To give you sweet memories of our time together.”

Briar Rose’s breath hitched as she took the bag, her fingers brushing his briefly. Her expression softened instantly as she peeked inside, the confections bringing a smile to her lips—not just because of their sweetness, but because of what they represented.

“You are sweet, even without candy. But thank you. So thoughtful. And I have nothing for you,” she murmured, her green eyes shimmering with emotion as the memories rushed back—the carefree summers, the late-night study sessions, and now, the stolen moments they’d shared just last night.

Brad tilted his head slightly, his own smile carrying a weight of nostalgia. “You gave me more than you know, Bri,” he replied softly. “You have no idea what you have given me.”

“Brad…” she began, her voice trembling slightly, but he shook his head.

The moment stretched between them, their gazes locked as the noise of travelers and rolling suitcases faded into the background. Finally, Brad spoke, his voice low but steady, carrying more weight than it seemed.

“If you want to give me something, then tell me when I can see you again,” he said.

Briar Rose hesitated for a heartbeat, her gaze flicking briefly toward the automatic doors before returning to his. “Come to San Sequoia,” she replied, her voice soft but certain. “I will be your tour guide.”

“Do you REALLY want me to come?”

“Yes!” her answer was short and sincere.

Her flight gate was announced.

“Oh boy, that’s me and I still need to get through security!”

Brad nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the suitcase handle before letting go. His hand brushed hers in a lingering farewell, the connection between them unwilling to break despite the inevitability of the moment.

“I will come see you. Soon,” he promised, his voice firm despite the swirl of emotions in his eyes.

Before stepping towards the fenced off area where only ticketed passenger could go beyond, Briar Rose leaned in, her lips brushing his in one final kiss. “Drive safe. And don’t forget me,” she murmured, her tone laced with unspoken meaning. Then, with a fleeting smile, she turned and walked through the sliding doors, her figure slipping into the sea of travelers until it disappeared entirely.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried. And believe me, I did try.”

Brad stood there for a moment longer, his chest tight with the weight of their parting but also with the glimmer of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: hope.