Page 29 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

Sophia

I take a step back, my arms crossed loosely as I tilt my head thoughtfully, savoring how spring sunlight filters gently through the Miller House windows.

Outside, daffodils and tulips burst vibrantly from window boxes, bright reminders that we’ve emerged from a long winter into a season of joyful beginnings.

It’s finally done.

Well, mostly. I glance sideways at Ethan, who’s stubbornly wrestling with a curtain rod. His expression is pure determination, tongue poking slightly out of his mouth as he twists and nudges the rod, which rebelliously refuses to cooperate.

“You know,” I say teasingly, suppressing a smile, “it’s still not too late to hire someone.”

Ethan shoots me a dramatically wounded look as though I’ve questioned his honor. “Sophia, have some faith. I’m a professional. Sort of.”

The rod slips suddenly from his grasp, hitting the windowsill with an echoing clang. Ethan mutters something colorful under his breath, quickly casting me a sheepish glance.

I stifle my laughter, hands raised innocently. “You were saying, Mr. Professional?”

He chuckles softly, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Just give me ten more minutes and an online tutorial. Expert craftsmanship takes time.”

“Ah, of course. Yesterday it was just two minutes and confidence.”

He shrugs playfully, eyes twinkling. “Strategy adjustment. Happens all the time in IT.”

Shaking my head, I cross our bright new office space, pausing by my desk.

My half of this floor is a comfortable swirl of colorful textiles, art prints, and scattered sketches — the organized chaos that helps me think.

Ethan’s side reflects him just as clearly: sleek, modern furniture mixed with quirky collectibles and hidden cords carefully taped along the back of the desk.

A sense of pride and quiet contentment swells inside me. This is ours. Not just the house — the life we’ve built together. The town, our new business, even our exuberant puppy snoring quietly on the plush sofa between our offices. Somehow, improbably, everything turned out right.

Tomorrow is the grand opening, our moment to officially share this new chapter with Bluewater Cove.

Lucas volunteered coffee service with an enthusiasm that suggested he might’ve been sampling too many espressos.

Even Simon — who’s made it his life’s mission to annoy Ethan — has been invited.

However, Ethan did threaten to revoke his invitation twice.

Possibly three times, can’t remember anymore.

A sharp knock at the door jolts me from my daydreams. Ethan and I exchange curious looks, and he drops the curtain rod, conceding defeat as he follows me to the door.

Swinging it open, I see Sage on the porch, her arms wrapped around a massive, mysterious object draped in vibrant paisley fabric.

“Sage!” Ethan calls affectionately, quickly stepping forward to help. “What on earth?”

“Office-warming gift!” she proclaims, beaming triumphantly as Ethan takes most of the weight from her.

Ethan groans theatrically. “Didn’t we agree on a particular aesthetic for the office?”

“That giraffe-hat-rack thing traumatized Mr. Darcy,” I remind her, laughter bubbling in my chest.

She waves away the complaint. “I stand by my vision. And this time, you’ll absolutely adore it.”

Sage whips away the fabric, revealing a stunning abstract painting. Blues, greens, and subtle golden hues simultaneously dance across the canvas, vibrant and calm. My breath catches.

“Oh, Sage, it’s gorgeous,” I murmur sincerely.

Ethan nods, clearly impressed. “It really is. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“I thought you might need a reminder,” Sage says softly, eyes twinkling, “for being open to find the unexpected in the chaos.”

“Consider it etched into our souls,” Ethan jokes, nudging my shoulder gently.

Sage eyes us both with mock seriousness. “Speaking of chaos, where’s Biscuit?”

I glance around, suddenly suspicious. “Sleeping… hopefully?”

Right on cue, a burst of golden fluff charges through the door, tail wagging furiously, paws skidding on polished floors. Biscuit barks joyfully, tongue lolling as Ethan catches him mid-leap.

“Oh boy, nap officially over,” Ethan laughs, cradling the puppy as it squirms excitedly.

I groan dramatically, turning to Sage. “Biscuit, destroyer of shoes, slayer of naps.”

Sage scratches Biscuit affectionately behind the ears. “Adorable menace. And totally worth the mayhem.”

She helps us hang the painting over the sofa, stepping back proudly once it’s positioned perfectly. “There,” she declares, nodding with satisfaction. “My masterpiece has found its home.”

After Sage leaves, Biscuit bolts toward a basket of fabric swatches, pawing gleefully as he digs for treasure.

“Oh no!” I groan, rushing after him. Ethan laughs, rescuing a fabric roll from the puppy’s enthusiastic jaws.

“Reconsidering pet ownership?” Ethan teases.

“No,” I admit, scooping Biscuit into my arms and kissing his head. “But ask me again after he eats the couch cushions.”

Ethan guides me gently toward the sofa, Biscuit settling between us, utterly content. Comfortable silence fills the room, and sunlight warms our shoulders.

“You know,” Ethan says softly after a while, “it’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“This place. Us.” He hesitates, voice tender. “Everything.”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze. “Did you ever doubt we’d get here?”

Ethan chuckles gently, shaking his head. “No. But if you’d told me a year ago, I’d buy a haunted fixer-upper to impress an interior designer… well, I’d have laughed.”

“To be fair, it does sound absurd.”

He grins. “But here we are. Raccoons, puppies, and Sage’s art. The whirlwind suits us.”

My breath catches, happiness bubbling up inside me. “It really does.”

“I meant what I said,” Ethan murmurs thoughtfully, eyes gentle. “This is just the start.”

I lean against him, sighing contentedly. “Good. I’m holding you to it.”

“Good,” he echoes softly.

We sit quietly for a moment, absorbed in the tranquility of our completed vision, the subtle scent of fresh paint blending harmoniously with lilacs from the open windows.

Ethan’s voice eventually breaks the silence, gentle yet thoughtful. “Ready for tomorrow’s grand opening?”

I glance up at him. “Honestly? Yes. I’m excited.”

He smiles, thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You really belong here, Sophia. You’re part of Bluewater Cove now.”

“I never imagined finding peace like this, a place to call home,” I whisper, emotion thickening my voice. “Somewhere so effortlessly mine.”

“Or someone as perfect for me as you,” Ethan replies tenderly, color rising slightly to his cheeks.

I laugh softly, my heart fluttering. “You sure know how to flatter.”

“Only with the truth,” he says softly.

We both smile, basking in comfortable quiet. After a moment, Ethan’s expression shifts to thoughtful curiosity. “Hey, did we ever solve the mystery of possible new raccoons in the attic?”

I glance up sharply, eyes wide. “Don’t even joke.”

He grins wickedly. “Guess I’ll have to check tonight.”

“Oh, no, if you get trapped up there again, I’m leaving you overnight.”

“Fair. But if I survive, promise me breakfast in bed?”

“Deal,” I concede, grinning despite myself.

Biscuit snorts softly, stretching out between us. Ethan gently threads his fingers through mine, sighing deeply.

“Sophia,” he whispers after a long pause, “thank you.”

“For what?”

He smiles faintly, his gaze sincere. “For taking a risk on this house, on me… on us.”

Warmth rushes through my chest. “Best risk I ever took.”

He gently tilts my chin upward, capturing my lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s tender and sweet, filled with quiet promises of tomorrow.

Biscuit yawns lazily, breaking the moment. We laugh gently, and I rest my head against Ethan’s shoulder, deeply content.

After a moment, I clear my throat quietly. “Hey, Ethan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” I murmur, voice steady with certainty. “I really do.”

His expression softens immediately, surprise giving way to pure joy. He cups my cheek gently. “Sophia, I’ve loved you since I almost flattened you at Lucas’.”

“Romantic,” I tease, smiling.

He grins gently. “I try.”

Comfortable silence settles once more, broken only by Biscuit’s sleepy snores.

A faint sound outside — the crunch of tires on gravel — pulls our attention toward the window. A blue truck parks and Claire emerges, waving enthusiastically, holding a large bouquet of fresh-cut flowers.

“Our helping committee is early,” Ethan murmurs.

I laugh softly, rising to my feet, Biscuit bounding after me. “I’ll start coffee?”

“Perfect,” Ethan agrees, standing beside me. He slips his arm around my waist, pulling me gently close. “But first, let’s go greet her together.”

“Together,” I echo, and we step onto the porch into the gentle warmth of early evening.

I lean into Ethan’s side, inhaling deeply. This right here is the life I never knew I needed. And as the laughter fills the evening air, I know we’ve finally found our place — not just in the Miller House, but in Bluewater Cove, in the warmth of this community, and most of all, in each other.