Page 25 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

As Dan takes in the genuine joy on his daughter’s face, I see his resistance start to crumble. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, if you’re both so excited about it, I guess I can’t say no. Let’s do this.”

I leave them to it in the living room and head out to the backyard.

The place has transformed. The tables have all been laid out and dressed, and the catering team has nearly finished constructing the bottle bar—I included it as a reluctant nod to Dan’s wish for what essentially was a frat party.

Now that it’s there, it actually makes complete sense.

“No, no, the ice sculpture needs to go over there, by the punch bowl.” I gesture to the corner of the table as I hurry over to the caterer. “And make sure we have enough champagne flutes on every table. I don’t want to run out halfway through the toast.”

The caterer nods and scurries off to follow my instructions.

Dan’s yard looks incredible. It’s unrecognizable.

The fairy lights, strung in a crisscross, from the house all the way down to the boathouse twinkle overhead, casting a warm, magical, glow over the nautical-themed décor, which is going to look even more amazing once the afternoon turns to night.

Driftwood centerpieces adorn the tables, accented with seashells and tea light candles.

It looks like something straight out of Coastal Living magazine. It’s going to be amazing.

The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of our first guests. I take one last look around the yard, making sure everything is perfect. The decorations, the catering—it’s all exactly as I envisioned it.

“I’ll get it,” Dan calls out, heading towards the front door. I follow close behind, my heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

As Dan opens the door, we’re greeted by a small group of his friends and colleagues, all dressed to the nines. I recognize a few faces from when I delivered the initiations, but most of them are new to me.

“Dan, my man!” One of them exclaims, pulling him into a bear hug. “It’s been too long. And who’s this?”

I step forward, extending my hand with a confident smile. “Hi, I’m Rachel.”

The distant hum of chatter and car doors slamming alerts me that more guests are arriving. I smooth my dress and run a hand through my hair.

Showtime.

“Rachel!” A woman with short silver hair approaches, arms outstretched. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Marge, Dan’s aunt.”

“Marge, hello! I’m so glad you could make it.” I return her warm hug, catching a whiff of lavender perfume. “I know Dan will be thrilled to see you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

When I heard Danny was finally coming out of hiding and hosting a party, I booked my train ticket right away.

Even with all those problems with flights, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

” She winks conspiratorially. “You know, it’s been years since he’s let anyone into his life like this. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

I blush, unsure how to respond. “Oh. We’re not actually?—”

Luckily, more guests begin filtering in, saving me from having to explain the real nature of my relationship with Dan—which I’m still trying to figure out myself. I greet each one with a smile and a handshake, directing them to the buffet and seating areas.

As the house and yard fill with the buzz of excited chatter, I can’t help but marvel at the turnout. People really showed up for Dan. Some drove for hours, probably spent more than they should on gas, and rearranged plans just to be here. That kind of loyalty isn’t something you can fake.

I scan the crowd, watching as old friends clap Dan on the back, neighbors bring over freshly baked pies like they’ve stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and even his brother James looks like he’s having a good time.

But what really makes me smile is Chloe’s little corner of the party.

The kids have claimed the dock as their own. Chloe stands at the center of it all, the undisputed leader of her mini kingdom, her arms crossed as she issues orders to her assembled friends.

“This is serious, you guys,” she says, face scrunched in mock concentration. “We only get one shot at the perfect water balloon ambush.”

A chorus of “Right!” and “Yeah!” follows.

One of the boys—tall, lanky, and clearly the strategist of the group—adjusts his glasses. “So, just to confirm, we hit the grown-ups after they’ve eaten?”

“Exactly.” Chloe nods. “They’ll be slow. Full. Vulnerable.”

A younger girl, maybe eight, clutches her balloon tightly. “What if they get mad?”

“They won’t,” Chloe assures her. “We’ll target the ones who look like they can take it. My dad? He’s fair game.”

“Ohhh,” the group murmurs, delight flashing in their eyes.

I bite my lip, watching from the sidelines. I should probably intervene. Tell them that dousing the host in freezing cold water at his own party might not be the best idea.

But, honestly?

I’d kind of like to see how it plays out.

Nearby, a small squad of girls sit cross-legged on a picnic blanket, braiding each other’s hair and comparing friendship bracelets.

Every now and then, they cast sneaky glances toward a different group—the older kids, a collection of too-cool-for-school preteens who are half-heartedly kicking around a soccer ball, pretending they aren’t invested in the rest of the party.

Chloe, to my surprise, is bouncing between all three groups like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

One second, she’s scheming a full-scale water war, the next she’s showing off a cool fishtail braid, then, before I even realize she’s moved, she’s jogging over to the older kids and casually stealing the soccer ball right out from under them.

“Hey!” one of the boys groans. “You can’t just take it, Chloe.”

She spins the ball on her finger. “Why not? You weren’t even using it right.”

A competitive glint flickers in his eyes. “Wanna bet?”

“Yeah,” Chloe challenges. “Let’s make it interesting. If I win, you guys have to join our water balloon ambush.”

The boy smirks. “And if I win?”

Chloe pauses, then shrugs. “I dunno. You get to feel proud?”

His friends howl with laughter, and Chloe grins, tossing the ball back toward them. Within moments, they’re fully engaged in a scrappy, fast-paced game, shouting insults and making daring passes that narrowly avoid flying off into the river.

I can’t help but shake my head.

She’s good.

Not just at soccer—but at fitting in everywhere.

I glance at Dan, who’s still deep in conversation with an old friend, completely oblivious to the mini-diplomatic empire his daughter is building out here.

Chloe might still be figuring herself out, still growing into who she’s going to be, but she’s already a force to be reckoned with.

And I don’t think she even realizes it yet.

The caterer catches my eye and gives me a thumbs up, signaling that everything is in place. I nod back, scanning the yard for Dan. The ice sculpture glistens, the champagne is chilled, and the guests are mingling happily. Perfect.

I weave my way through the crowd, pleased to see everyone has a drink and a smile. The energy is electric, a testament to the impact Dan has had on so many lives, and a clear sign that this party is long overdue.

I spot Chloe by the refreshment table, her eyes wide as she takes in the elaborate spread. I make my way over to her, snagging a couple of canapés en route.

“Having fun?” I ask, handing her a napkin.

She nods enthusiastically, her mouth full of mini quiche. “This is amazing, Rachel! Best. Party. Ever.”

As if on cue, the boathouse door swings open, and Dan steps out, waving at everyone to join him.

“Come on, everyone.” Chloe shouts, “Dad’s got something to show you!”

The guests make their way down to the dock and join Dan at the boathouse.

I hang back, content to observe from the sidelines. This is Dan’s moment, and I don’t want to intrude. But as the crowd parts, his gaze finds mine, and he mouths a silent “Thank you.”

I nod and raise my glass to him.

Dan clears his throat, and the last few murmurs die down.

“Thank you all for coming,” he begins, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. “I know it hasn’t been easy, with the flights and all, but it means the world to me—to us—that so many of you are here.”

He glances at Chloe, who leaves her friends and joins him, and I feel a lump form in my throat. The love between them is so strong, so pure.

“As some of you know, and probably most of you don’t,” Dan continues, “I’ve been working on a little project these past few months. Well, years really. It’s something that’s very close to my heart, and I’m excited to finally share it with you.”

Dan takes a deep breath, then steps aside, revealing a large white sheet. “Without further ado, I present to you… the boathouse.”

With a flourish, he yanks the sheet away, and there’s a collective gasp from the crowd.

The interior of the boathouse is stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance.

The polished wooden beams inside gleam under the array of subtle uplights, and the soft red exterior seems to glow against the backdrop of the river.

I feel a swell of emotion as I take in the details—the nautical-themed decor, the large windows that offer an incredible view of the water. It’s clear that Dan has poured his heart and soul into this project, and the result is nothing short of spectacular.

As the guests surge forward to get a closer look, I let them pass, happy to hang back and let them have this moment with Dan and Chloe.

Chloe’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I turn to see her standing beside me, her eyes shining with tears.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, her gaze fixed on the boathouse. “It’s like a little piece of Mom, right here with us.”

I nod, my own throat tightening with emotion. “Your dad did an amazing job,” I say softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your mom would be so proud.”

Chloe leans into my touch, a watery smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe how much work he’s done on it. I thought he’d just swept the floor and gave it a fresh coat of paint, but it’s like… it’s like he brought her back to life, just for a moment.

As I stand there with Chloe, watching as Dan shows the guests around the boathouse, I can’t help but feel a pang of longing.

The love that Dan and Rebecca shared, the love that still shines through in every detail of this beautiful space…

it’s the kind of love I’ve always dreamed of.

For all the success I’ve achieved, for all the lives I’ve touched through my work, there’s still a hole in my heart that nothing seems to fill.

I mentally shake the thought away. This isn’t the time for self-pity. This is a time for celebration, for honoring the love that Dan and Rebecca shared, the love that lives on in Chloe.

I squeeze Chloe’s shoulder, giving her a warm smile. “Come on,” I say, nodding towards the boathouse. “Let’s go check it out.”

Together, we make our way towards the structure, the laughter and chatter of the guests washing over us like a warm breeze. And as we step inside, taking in the incredible details, the loving touches that Dan has poured into every nook and cranny, my breath catches.

The walls are adorned with photographs capturing cherished moments from his life with Rebecca, each one telling a story of love, laughter, and adventure.

A worn leather jacket hangs on a hook, a testament to Rebecca’s free spirit, while a collection of seashells arranged on a shelf speaks of lazy afternoons spent combing the beach together.

The guests are equally enthralled, their voices a mixture of awe and nostalgia as they explore the space.

“Remember when Rebecca wore this to our college graduation?” one woman asks, pointing to a large-brimmed sunhat hanging on the wall. “She was the life of the party that day.”

“And look at this,” another guest chimes in, holding up a well-worn book. “Dan, wasn’t this the poetry collection you gave her on your first anniversary?”

Dan nods, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “She carried that book with her everywhere. Said it was like having a piece of me with her, no matter where she went.”

As I listen to the stories and memories being shared, I feel a sense of warmth spreading through my chest. It’s clear that Rebecca was more than just Dan’s wife—she was a beacon of light in the lives of everyone who knew her.

And though she may be gone, her presence still lingers in every carefully chosen memento, every lovingly told tale.

I find myself drawn to a particular photograph, one that shows Dan and Rebecca on their wedding day. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes, their faces alight with the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’ve found your soulmate. It’s a look I’ve never seen on Dan’s face before. It suits him.

“They were so cute together, weren’t they?” Chloe says softly, coming to stand beside me.

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the image. “They really were,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Your dad… He loved your mom with everything he had. And I can see that love reflected in everything he’s done here.”

Chloe smiles, leaning her head against my arm. “I’m glad you’re here, Rachel,” she says. “I know it means a lot to my dad to have you with us today.”

I wrap an arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I say, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.