Page 12 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)
GHOST FROM VANCOUVER
Ethan
I rehearse a final possible greeting in my head — maybe something nonchalant like, “You busy? Need an extra measuring tape?” as I step up to Sage’s gallery.
I’m definitely overthinking this. We planned to meet today after she did some more research at the Purring Page, so I have no reason to be nervous. Right?
The space smells like a strange combination of lavender, fresh paint, and something distinctly burnt — toast, maybe?
My gaze sweeps across the scattered sculptures, half-finished canvases, and dozens of paintbrushes soaking in color-stained jars.
A swirl of Sage’s distinct energy. It’s both comforting and slightly chaotic, and usually, I enjoy it.
Usually.
I’m taking one step forward when raised voices drift from the back room, freezing me mid-stride. My spine goes rigid. That voice — sharp, entitled — makes me instantly alert. If it involves Sophia, I need to know what’s going on.
“You could’ve told her I’ve been calling!”
That’s a male voice — low, tense, and not friendly. My pulse ratchets up another notch. Without meaning to, I slip further into the gallery, my footsteps muffled by a worn Persian rug. The sense of intrusion tightens in my gut, but curiosity nudges me forward.
“Daniel, you’ve been calling and texting her constantly. She knows you’re trying to reach her…” Sage’s voice is tighter than usual, with a brittle edge that immediately raises my guard.
“She needs to stop ignoring potential clients. She’s not thinking straight,” the man retorts, voice clipped.
Clients. My heart clenches. This is about Sophia, then. My mind’s already leaping to conclusions. She mentioned turning down some big contract, wanting space. Could this guy be a pushy former boss? Or maybe a clingy manager?
I sidle closer, feeling like a spy in a bad detective movie. The man stands by a half-open bead curtain, wearing a fitted suit so completely out of place among Sage’s bohemian chaos that it’s almost comedic. His posture is rigid, and his expression is darker than storm clouds.
Sage stands with her arms crossed tightly, her silver bracelets clinking softly as she shifts her weight. She doesn’t say anything, just watches this man, whose lips are pressed into a thin line.
“Daniel, she wants space… she needs space...” Sage insists.
Daniel? .
“Excuse me,” he interrupts curtly, voice spiking with frustration. “I don’t need relationship advice from someone whose longest commitment is teaching a pottery class.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t talk to her like that,” I say, stepping forward just enough for him to notice. “Sage deserves respect — something you clearly struggle with.”
“Who are you?” Daniel’s furious gaze locks onto me the second he steps around the beaded curtain, and my carefully planned, casual greeting vanishes like morning fog.
“A friend. And you?”
Sage turns toward me, eyebrows lifting. “Ethan,” she breathes, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Her gaze darts between me and Daniel as if trying to decide what comes next.
Daniel eyes me up and down, brow furrowed like he can’t decide if I’m a threat or just an inconvenience. “Another artsy stray?”
Sage quickly corrects him. “Friend. A good friend.”
Daniel just scoffs. “Great. Another nosy, small-town expert.” His tone is thick with condescension, fueling my irritation.
“Expert? Wow — promotion accepted. I was just here to catch up with a friend, but hey, if you want free consulting, let me grab my clipboard.” My humor earns a fleeting grin from Sage, but Daniel looks supremely unimpressed.
“Funny,” he mutters sourly, rolling his eyes.
Sage sighs, stepping between us with a forced calm. “Daniel, please. Don’t drag Ethan into this.”
But it’s too late. “Well, Ethan… My wife needs to come back to Vancouver…”
“Ex-wife,” Sage interjects.
Heat flares in my cheeks. So this is Sophia’s ex. I grind my teeth, mustering a calm front.
“Semantics!” Daniel’s tone is pointed, nearly accusatory. “Sophia’s future is on the line. She needs to work”
My jaw tightens. “She is working. We’re renovating a property,” I shoot back, forcing my voice to stay even.
Daniel scoffs, “She doesn’t have time to play house. She has clients waiting for her in Vancouver.”
“Sophia doesn’t need anyone managing her. She’s helping me with the house because she wants to. You calling that a distraction says more about your priorities than hers.”
Daniel shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t pretend you know what’s best for her.”
“Maybe I don’t, but what exactly do you know about what Sophia really wants or needs?”
Daniel looks at me like he can’t believe my audacity. I can’t believe it either, but there’s a protective instinct snapping inside me. If this is the man who cast such a long shadow over Sophia’s life, I really hate the idea that he’s here to claim her again.
Behind me, Sage’s bracelets clang warningly. “Both of you, enough.”
Daniel glances at his watch, glowering. “Fine. But Sophia and I aren’t finished.” With that, he pushes past me roughly, his shoulder knocking mine, and a painting standing nearby tips precariously toward the floor. The bell above the door jangles again, an ironic chime punctuating his exit.
A charged silence falls. I exhale, shoulders knotting with tension I didn’t realize I was holding. I feel the old painting pressed under my fingertips — my attempt to rescue it from total annihilation. Carefully, I prop it upright.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company,” I say quietly, my concern for Sage evident.
She rubs her temples. “Don’t apologize. You might’ve saved me from a meltdown.”
An unexpected burst of laughter escapes me. “He does seem like the paintbrush-to-the-face type.”
She almost smiles, but there’s obvious worry behind her eyes. “He’s… Sophia’s ex-husband. But they’re still in business together…”
The bottom drops out of my stomach at that confirmation. “He came all this way?”
Sage heaves a sigh, fiddling with paintbrushes on the cluttered table. “Seems like it.”
The words resonate like a threat. Is he planning to take her back with him? Does she even want that? My thoughts churn, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. The possibility of Sophia leaving — of this new connection evaporating — suddenly feels all too real.
I swallow, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Does she know he’s here?”
Sage hesitates, shaking her head. “I doubt it. He stormed in, demanding to see her. I tried to explain she’s not around.”
“She’s stronger than she thinks,” I say quietly, recalling her quick wit and fearless laugh when we discovered raccoons in the Miller House. But a knot of doubt coils inside me. Is she strong enough to resist him if he pushes hard?
Sage’s eyes soften, reading the concern on my face. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “I guess. It’s just… stuff like this rarely ends well. I don’t want her cornered into going back because he’s persuasive.”
Or because I haven’t known her long enough to be a reason for her to stay .
That silent admission burns in my chest. My guard’s been down with her since day one — her quick humor, warmth, the quiet spark of something beyond friendship.
Now I’m wondering if I’m being na?ve and if Daniel’s hold on her is deeper than I realized.
“Anyway,” Sage says gently, “I can tell her you dropped by if I see her first.”
“Please do. We were supposed to meet up but, uh... I should go. Need to follow up with the local contractors.”
Sage nods, and I turn to leave, the gallery’s clutter suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
Outside, the sunlight hits me like a spotlight.
I whip out my phone, thumbs hovering over the screen.
Maybe I can’t control how Sophia handles Daniel, but I can at least get the Miller House on track — show her there are opportunities for her here.
One text to the roofing contractor, another to an electrician. My mind reels with to-do lists. Even if, in the back of my mind, doubt whispers that she might choose something simpler — a life away from Bluewater Cove and me.
Pocketing my phone, I exhale shakily. “Stay optimistic,” I mutter under my breath, glancing toward the direction of the beach.
For now, though, I’ll keep texting contractors, scheduling inspections, and forging ahead. Because if there’s any chance Sophia might stay, I’ll do my best to give her a reason to.