Page 46

“Hey, you okay?”

She yawns and nods. “Just tired.”

“Did I wake you up?”

She shakes her head. “I had a bad dream. The day my grandfather died,” she explains, then closes her eyes. “Sorry, I do not want to cry anymore. I just… this is all taking a bit of a toll on me, if I’m being honest. I feel drained.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. Ever,” I add. “Personally, I think you’re handling this exceptionally well.”

“It’s not me,” she replies. “The human in me wants to go into full-blown panic mode, but my faith reminds me I’m not alone. That God is in control, and He will use this for good.”

I smile at her. “Your faith is inspiring.”

“You’re a man of faith,” she says, gesturing toward my cross.

“I am, but I wasn’t always. And even still, I have trouble accepting that I’m not in control, nor do I want to be.”

“Understandable.”

I study her in the moonlight as she steps out to stand beside me. She’s strong, radiant, but even I can see a bit of the light in her has dimmed with the weight of everything she’s carrying.

And then I remember yesterday at the beach.

“Hey, get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

She turns toward me. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I know. Come on.” I gesture for her to go inside, then wait until she is before stepping in and locking the door behind her.

As she goes and gets dressed, I fire off a quick text.

Me: Hey, I know you’re usually up this time of morning, getting the shop ready to open. Think you could make me two coffees to go and leave them on the steps?

While I wait, I slip into tennis shoes and pull on a light sweater.

Anastasia: Sure thing. Want that cup, too?

Me: That would be great, thanks. A hazelnut latte with skim milk, extra whip, and a dash of cinnamon, please. A black coffee for me. Oh, and can you set out your picnic blanket? I don’t have one.

Anastasia: You’ve got it. :) Ready in fifteen.

After grabbing my keys and wallet, I shove my phone into my pocket and turn toward the door. Dahlia steps out in that olive green sweatshirt that Anastasia bought her, as well as a pair of black leggings. She’s run a brush through her dark hair, so the waves are silky smooth.

She’s gorgeous.

And I’m quickly losing the battle of keeping her at a distance.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, I think so. Is what I’m wearing okay?”

“It’s perfect. Come on.” I open the door, and she walks out, so I lock it up, arm the security system, then lead her over toward my truck. As soon as she’s situated, I climb behind the wheel.

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

I look over at her, so grateful to see a bit of her spark has returned. “Absolutely not. You’re just going to have to be surprised.”

She smiles softly. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough surprises lately?”