Page 30 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

Chloe doesn’t seem to notice my turmoil.

She’s too busy running her hands over the oars, making sure everything is in place.

“It’s totally safe,” she reassures me, pulling out life jackets from a wooden crate and holding one up with a flourish.

“Let’s go out on the river. We’ve got all the safety gear. ”

I force a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm, but my insides feel twisted up and uncomfortable. It’s not just the thought of going out on the water, although that doesn’t exactly thrill me either. It’s more the lingering echo of last night—of Dan’s touch and his anger and my own crushing guilt.

Chloe notices my hesitation and frowns. “You don’t like boats?”

I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. “It’s not that. I just… I don’t really like being out on the water. I’m more of a… solid ground kind of person.”

She cocks her head, like she’s trying to figure out how anyone could possibly feel that way.

“But it’s fun! And it’s not scary. We could just go out for a few minutes. Just over to that buoy and back. You’ll see, it’s easy.”

I bite my lip, torn between telling her no and not wanting to disappoint her.

Chloe’s been through enough, and the last thing I want is to be another person in her life who lets her down.

Besides, what’s the point of playing it safe all the time?

Maybe it’s time to take a chance, even on something small.

Maybe I need to push myself out of my comfort zone—rock the boat a little.

I nod. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Chloe’s face lights up with pure delight, and she practically bounces as she fastens the life jackets on both of us.

“You’ll see,” she promises. “It’s super fun.”

Chloe winds the winch a few turns, and the boat lowers into the water. She hops in with the grace of someone who’s done this a hundred times, while I take a little more time to gingerly lower myself onto the bench seat, gripping the sides.

She giggles. “You look like you’re bracing for a hurricane.”

“I just don’t want to tip us over before we even start,” I mumble, trying to find my balance.

Once we’re settled, Chloe picks up the oars and gives me a reassuring smile. “See? Totally easy. You just have to find your sea legs.”

The boat skims out of the boathouse with a soft push, and I feel my heart race a little as the gentle waves rock us. But Chloe’s movements are steady and confident, and slowly—much to my surprise—I relax.

“See?” Chloe says proudly. “You’re not gonna puke or anything, are you?”

I laugh, more at myself than anything else. “No. I think I’m okay.”

She grins and dips the oars into the water, finding a rhythm that sends us gliding towards the buoy.

I let myself relax a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as the boat rocks gently under us.

There’s something peaceful about it—something calming that I didn’t expect.

Maybe it’s Chloe’s confidence. Or maybe it’s just that being out here feels like a break from reality—a bubble of calm away from all the mess I’ve made.

Chloe looks at me, her face thoughtful. “You’re good at this,” she says.

I arch a brow. “Good at what? Sitting still and not freaking out?”

She giggles. “No, just… going along with things. Not everybody does that. Some people just say no right away without even trying.”

Her words hit a little deeper than I expect, and I wonder if that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life—saying no to anything that seemed risky or uncomfortable. Always playing it safe. Always doing the sensible thing. Maybe I’ve missed out on a lot because of that.

“Yeah,” I say softly, more to myself than to her. “I guess it’s about time I learned to just… go with it.”

Chloe smiles, satisfied, and dips the oars again, steering us smoothly forward. I close my eyes for a moment, just breathing in the fresh air and letting the sound of the river fill my ears.

The rhythm of the oars cutting through the water becomes almost soothing, and I allow myself to just…

be. The river stretches out around us, calm and quiet, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I can actually slow down.

No deadlines. No pitches. No pressure to prove myself. Just… being here.

As the boat glides further from the shore, Chloe hums to herself—a melody I don’t recognize, but it’s soft and sweet, and it suits the mood perfectly.

“You know,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “you’re pretty brave, taking me out on a boat when I’m totally useless at this.”

Chloe giggles again. “You’re not useless. You just needed a little push. Besides, you didn’t freak out, so that’s pretty cool.”

I smile at that. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve spent so long convincing myself I couldn’t handle certain things that I never bothered to actually try.

“Next time,” I say, glancing around at the stillness of the water, “I’ll take the oars. Deal?”

Chloe smirks. “Why not start now?”

“What?”

“Take this,” she says, handing me an oar. “It’s just like riding a bike. Well, a bike on water.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think,” I mutter, but I take the oar, trying to mimic Chloe’s grip.

She shows me the basics—how to row, how to steer, how to work with the current instead of against it. To my surprise, I catch on quickly, the motions feeling natural and fluid.

As we approach the buoy, the rhythmic splashing of the oars and the gentle rocking of the boat lull me into a sense of tranquility. My fears start to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of exhilaration.

“You’re a natural!” Chloe exclaims, as I manage to turn the boat at will with a deft twist of my oar.

I feel a flush of pride at her praise. Out here, with the vastness of the water around us and the fresh breeze on my face, I feel a lightness I haven’t known in years. It’s as if the weight of my responsibilities, my guilt, my self-doubt—it all stays on shore, leaving me free and unburdened.

“This is amazing,” I say, tilting my head back. “I feel like I could row forever.”

“I knew you’d love it! Just wait until you see where we’re going.”

She points ahead, and I follow her gaze to a distant structure perched on a rocky outcrop on the other side of the river.

“Wait. Hold on. We agreed to the buoy and back. That was the deal.”

“It’s just a little further.” She points. “In fact, it’s less distance than going back to the house.”

I turn and realize she’s right, we’re more than halfway across the river already. What’s a little further now that we’re here?

“What’s there?”

“You’ll see.” She grins.

As we draw closer, I make out the distinctive shape of a small lighthouse, the white paint long peeled off, and the structure now covered in creepers.

“That’s the old lighthouse,” Chloe explains, a wistful note entering her voice. “Mom and I used to row out here all the time. It was our special place.”

My heart clenches every time Chloe mentions her mom. I can’t begin to imagine the hole her loss has left in her life—in Dan’s life.

As we approach the base of the lighthouse, Chloe guides me towards a small, rocky beach.

As soon as the bow of the boat hits the sand, Chloe hops out, and then turns, offering me her hand as I step over the bow and back onto terra firma.

We pull the boat onto the shore, and make our way up a winding path to the lighthouse door.

Chloe produces a key from her pocket and unlocks the door. “Dad still keeps it maintained,” she says softly. “For Mom.”

Inside, the musty smell of old stone and sea air envelops us. We climb the spiral stairs, our footsteps echoing in the narrow space, until we emerge onto the gallery deck at the top.

The view is incredible. From this vantage point, the river stretches out in both directions, melting into the horizon. The breeze is stronger up here, whipping my hair around my face.

Chloe leans against the railing, her eyes distant. “Sometimes, when I miss her, I come out here with Dad and I feel closer to her somehow. Like she’s still here with me.”

Impulsively, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “She is, Chloe. She’s always with you.”

We stand there for a long moment, watching the sunlight dance on the swell, each lost in our own thoughts.

“We should probably head back,” I say reluctantly, glancing at my watch. “Your dad will be finished with work soon.”

Chloe nods, her wistful expression morphing into a mischievous grin. “Race you to the boat!”

She takes off down the stairs, her laughter echoing behind her. I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips, and follow at a more sedate pace. By the time I reach the bottom, she’s already pushed the boat back into the water.

I settle into my seat, grasping the oars. The wood is warm and smooth beneath my hands, the movements already feeling more natural, more instinctive. We glide out into the river, the lighthouse receding behind us.

Chloe trails her fingers in the water, creating tiny ripples that spread out in our wake. “I wish we could stay out here forever,” she sighs.

“Me too,” I admit, surprising myself with the truth of it. Out here, with the sun on my face and the breeze in my hair, the stresses and pressures of my life in Chicago feel a million miles away.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice Chloe’s hand sneaking toward the surface of the river until it’s too late. She scoops up a handful of water, flinging it toward me with a gleeful laugh.

“Oh, it’s on!” I sputter, retaliating with a splash of my own.

Our laughter mingles with the sound of the swell lapping against the prow as we engage in an all-out water fight, the boat rocking gently beneath us. For a precious few minutes, we’re just two friends, playing and joking, without a care in the world.

But the moment is shattered by a sudden, sickening crunch. I freeze, my heart lodging in my throat, as I see water beginning to seep through a jagged crack in the hull.

“Rachel?” Chloe’s voice is small and scared. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!”