Page 34 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start (Twin Waves #2)

SEVENTEEN

MICHELLE

T he laptop screen blurs as I squint at my third grant application of the evening, Jessica’s kitchen island transformed into my personal command center. Coffee mugs crowd every surface—a caffeinated fortress protecting towers of printouts and sticky notes sorted by color.

“Find anything promising?” Jessica slides another mug across the granite, nearly toppling my precarious paper city. “Or are you building a shrine to celebrate finally admitting you have feelings?”

I look up from my laptop, unable to suppress the smile that’s been threatening to break free all evening. The memory of Grayson’s hands tangling in my hair, the way he’d whispered “girlfriend” while testing how the word tasted, sends heat spiraling through my chest.

“Actually... I have news.”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up. “News that involves a certain brooding contractor and your complete inability to stop looking satisfied?”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I can’t dim the smile. “He came to my apartment last night. With daisies.”

“What?” Jessica shrieks, nearly dropping her coffee mug. “Michelle Lawson, you absolute sneak! Daisies? He remembered you like daisies?”

“From a comment I made at a community meeting three years ago.” I touch my lips, remembering the sweet pressure of his mouth against mine, how he’d tasted like possibility and promises.

“We talked for hours, Jess. Really talked. About his ex-wife, about David, about everything we’ve been too scared to say. ”

“Oh my goodness.” Jessica collapses into the chair across from me, fanning herself dramatically. “The sexual tension between you two has been killing everyone in this town for months.”

“It’s not just sexual tension,” I protest, though my body temperature spikes remembering how Grayson had discovered my needlework hobby and called it devastatingly cute, how his voice had dropped to that gravelly register when he said he was falling in love with me. “We actually really connected.”

“And this connection included what exactly? Because you’re practically vibrating out of your chair.”

She’s not wrong. I can still feel phantom traces of Grayson’s fingers brushing hair away from my face, the way he’d looked at me like I was precious and dangerous. “He asked if I was his girlfriend.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep. Standing in my kitchen, fixing my lighting fixture, and suddenly he’s asking if I’m his girlfriend like we’re in high school.” I laugh, the sound bubbling up with pure joy. “I said yes.”

Jessica stares at me for a long moment, then breaks into the kind of grin that could power the lighthouse. “Michelle Lawson has a boyfriend. An actual, official boyfriend who brings flowers and fixes electrical hazards.”

“I know.” I bury my face in my hands, equal parts thrilled and terrified. “Grayson Reed is my boyfriend. How is that even real?”

“Because you’re both stubborn dreamers who spent years pretending you didn’t want to hold hands during zoning meetings.”

“Jessica!”

“I’m just saying, the way you’re glowing suggests the man knows exactly how to make your heart race with those gentle contractor hands of his.”

The memory of those hands—careful and reverent as they’d explored my cheek, my shoulders, the way they’d trembled slightly against my waist—makes my breath catch.

“Anyway,” I say, trying to redirect before I melt from memory alone, “that’s why I’m here drowning in grant applications instead of at home.

Being around him makes my brain turn to mush. ”

“So you’re dating Twin Waves’ most eligible bachelor and researching ways to work together professionally? That’s either brilliant or completely insane.”

“Both, probably.” I gesture at my research mountain, trying to focus on preserving historic buildings instead of the way Grayson had looked at my embroidered dogs like they were masterpieces. “But look at this—apparently everyone’s throwing money at historic preservation these days.”

“And they’d actually fund your coffee shop partnership with your new boyfriend?”

The word “boyfriend” sends a thrill through me that I’m still not used to.

“It’s not just about the coffee shop. This could transform how we approach development in Twin Waves.

Historic preservation mixed with sustainable growth, community spaces that serve everyone.

..” I flip through applications with growing excitement.

“There’s funding for exactly this kind of collaborative project. ”

“You’re getting that gleam in your eyes.”

“I might have found our solution to the whole development versus preservation battle.” I lean forward, unable to contain my enthusiasm. “What if instead of fighting against each other, we work together? Grayson’s architectural expertise, my community organizing, shared grant applications...”

“Your boyfriend’s architectural expertise,” Jessica corrects with a knowing grin.

“My boyfriend’s architectural expertise,” I repeat, testing how the words taste. Still thrilling. Still terrifying. “I can’t believe I’m dating Grayson Reed.”

Jessica starts clearing mugs, but her movements are too careful—like she’s concentrating on not breaking something. “That’s wonderful, Michelle. Really wonderful.”

The brightness in her voice rings false. I set my laptop aside. “Jess. What’s wrong?”

She keeps rinsing the same mug. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m happy for you.”

“You only use that tone when you’re trying not to upset me.”

Jessica finally sets down the mug and meets my eyes. “Both things can be true. I am happy for you. And I’m… not okay.” She swallows. “Grayson isn’t just your boyfriend. He’s my landlord.”

“Yes, we’ve established this.”

“And after the flood damage, he wants to discuss my lease.”

“Discuss how?”

“The kind of discussion that starts with ‘structural concerns’ and ends with ‘might be more cost-effective to rebuild.’”

Cold slides down my spine. “Jess, he wouldn’t?—”

“Make a business decision?” Her shoulders lift. “He’s a developer. It’s literally what he does.” The false cheer cracks. “I can’t clap for your romance if it means I lose my stability.”

The truth hurts because it’s fair. “There has to be more to it.”

“Is there?” Her look is gentle, not cruel. “Or are you already making excuses because you want this to be different?”

I breathe through the sting. “I need to talk to him.”

“Michelle—”

“No, I need to hear his side before I jump to conclusions.” I start packing my research with shaking hands. “After David, after everything, I promised myself I wouldn’t assume the worst about people I care about.”

“And what if his side confirms the worst?”

The possibility makes my chest tight with panic. “Then I’ll deal with it. But Jess, this man spent last night telling me about his ex-wife, about how he wants to build something lasting in Twin Waves. That doesn’t sound like a guy planning to demolish buildings for profit.”

Jessica studies my face with the expression she usually reserves for authenticating rare books.

“I have to believe it. Because the alternative means I’ve made the same mistake twice, and I can’t...” I stop, swallowing hard. “I can’t survive being wrong about love again.”

“Oh, honey.” Jessica reaches across to squeeze my hand. “I hope you’re right about him. I really do.”

“But?”

“But I’ve spent twenty years building something beautiful, and I can’t afford to be optimistic about men who hold my future in their hands.”

The weight of that settles between us like a challenge. Jessica’s livelihood versus my heart. My best friend’s dreams versus my first real chance at love since David destroyed my ability to trust.

“What if there’s a third option?” I ask suddenly. “What if this is exactly why we need those grants?”

“How do you mean?”

“Historic preservation funding. Community development grants that specifically support small businesses in heritage buildings.” I flip through my research with renewed purpose.

“What if instead of seeing this as Grayson threatening your store, we see it as an opportunity to secure funding that protects it permanently?”

“That would require him to be willing to partner with preservation efforts instead of pursuing demolition.”

“It would require us to present him with a better option than demolition. One that’s more profitable long-term and serves the community.”

Jessica’s expression shifts from resignation to cautious interest. “You think he’d go for that?”

“I think the man who spent all evening saving your bookstore might be more interested in restoration than destruction.” I stand up, bag full of applications and renewed determination. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to trust my judgment about the man I’m dating. And hope that he’s worthy of that trust.”

Jessica nods slowly. “And if he’s not?”

“Then I’ll help you find another solution. But Jess? I think he might surprise us both.”

My phone buzzes with a text.

Grayson: Thinking about you. Brett and Amber invited us on a double date tomorrow night. Amber and Brett want to eat dinner on Ocracoke Island. Ferry leaves at 5:30.

I show Jessica the message, and she raises an eyebrow. “Convenient timing.”

“Convenient or fortuitous.”

Me: Okay, but we need to discuss the bookstore situation.

Grayson: Of course. I’ll text you more details later.

I gather my things, mind already spinning with grant applications and partnership possibilities and the terrifying hope that love and business can coexist without destroying each other. “Relationships are complicated.”

“The good ones are,” Jessica agrees. “The bad ones just feel complicated until you realize they’re actually simple—simple patterns of selfishness and manipulation dressed up as complexity.”

“And which one do you think I have?”

“Ask me after dinner tomorrow. But, Michelle? I’ve never seen you this happy. That has to count for something.”