“Don’t remind me,” Emily said with a groan.
Daniel popped the cork of the champagne and poured them each a glass.
“To Mr. Kapowski.”
Emily clinked her glass against his, her lips pursed into a smile. “Mr. Kapowski.” She took a sip, letting the bubbles pop on her tongue.
“You’re still not feeling confident about the whole thing, are you?” Daniel said.
Emily shrugged, her eyes focused on the liquid in her glass. She swilled it and watched the trajectory of the bubble streams inside change, disrupted by the motion, before settling again. “I just don’t have much faith in myself,” she finally said, with a large sigh. “I’ve never really achieved anything before.”
“What about your job in New York?”
“I mean nothing I’ve ever wanted.”
Daniel wiggled his eyebrows. “What about me?”
Emily couldn’t help but smirk. “I don’t view you as an achievement as such…”
“You should,” he interjected jovially. “A stoic guy like me. It’s not like I’m the easiest guy to chat with in the whole world.”
Emily laughed, then planted a long, sumptuous kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he said once she pulled away.
“A thank-you. For this.” She nodded to the small picnic spread before them. “For being here.”
Daniel seemed to hesitate then and Emily realized why: because being here wasn’t something that Daniel would ever be able to fully commit to. Traveling was in his blood. At some point he’d have to set off.
But what about her? She hadn’t made any fixed plans to stay in Sunset Harbor, either. She’d already been here six months – a long time to be away from New York, away from her home and her friends. And yet, with the sun setting in the distance, casting orange and pink rays into the sky, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be. In this exact moment, right now, everything was perfect. She felt like she was living in paradise. Perhaps she really could make Sunset Harbor her home. Perhaps Daniel would want to settle down with her. There was no way of knowing the future; she would just have to take each day as it came. At the very least she could stay here until her money ran dry. And if she put in enough hard work, made the B&B sustainable, then that day might not come for a very long time.
“What are you thinking about?” Daniel asked.
“The future, I guess,” Emily replied.
“Ah,” Daniel replied, looking down at his lap.
“Not a good topic of conversation?” Emily queried.
Daniel shrugged. “Not always. Isn’t it better just to enjoy the moment?”
Emily wasn’t sure how to take that statement. Was it evidence of his desire to leave this place? If the future wasn’t a good topic of conversation, was that because he had visions of future heartbreak?
“I suppose,” she said quietly. “But sometimes it’s impossible not to think ahead. It’s okay to make plans too, don’t you think?” She was trying to gently nudge Daniel, to make him give up just a sliver of information, anything that might make her feel steadier within their relationship.
“Not really,” he said. “I try really hard to keep my mind in the present. Don’t worry about the future. Don’t dwell on the past.”
Emily didn’t like the idea of him worrying about their future, and had to stop herself from demanding to know what exactly there was to worry about. Instead, she asked, “Is there a lot to dwell on?”
Daniel hadn’t revealed too much about his past. She knew he had moved around a lot, that his parents divorced and his dad drank, that he credited her own father for giving him a future.
“Oh yeah,” Daniel said. “A whole lot.”
He fell silent again. Emily wanted him to give more but could tell he wasn’t able to. She wondered if he knew how much she ached to be the person he opened up to.
But with Daniel it was all about patience. He would speak when he was ready, if he was ever ready.
And if that day ever did come, she hoped she’d still be around to listen.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning Emily woke early, determined not to miss the breakfast shift again. At seven sharp she heard the sound of the guest’s bedroom door opening and closing softly, then the patter of Mr. Kapowski’s footsteps as he descended the staircase. Emily stepped out from where she’d been loitering in the corridor and stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at him.
“Good morning, Mr. Kapowski,” she said confidently, a pleasant smile on her face.
Mr. Kapowski startled.
“Oh. Good morning. You’re awake.”
“Yes,” Emily said, maintaining her confident tone, though she felt anything but. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday, for not being available to make you breakfast. Did you sleep okay?” She noted the dark rings around his eyes.
Mr. Kapowski hesitated for a moment. He nervously shoved his hands into the pockets of his crumpled suit.
“Um…no, actually,” he finally replied.
“Oh no,” Emily said, concerned. “Not because of the bedroom, I hope?”
Mr. Kapowski seemed fidgety and awkward, rubbing his neck like he had more to say but didn’t know how to.
“Actually,” he finally managed, “the pillow was quite lumpy.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Emily said, frustrated with herself for not having tested it.
“And um…the towels were scratchy.”
“They are?” Emily said, perturbed. “Why don’t you come and sit in the dining room,” she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice, “and let me know your concerns.”
She guided him into the vast dining room and opened up the curtains, letting the pale morning light filter into the room, showing off her latest display of lilies from Raj, the smell of which permeated the room. The surface of the long mahogany banquet style table glistened. Emily loved this room; it was so opulent, so fancy and ornate. It had been the perfect room to showcase some of her father’s antique crockery, and they were kept in a display case made of the same deep mahogany wood as the table.
“That’s better,” she said, her tone remaining bright and breezy. “Now, would you like to let me know about your room so we can fix it?”
Mr. Kapowski looked uncomfortable, as though he really didn’t want to speak.
“It’s nothing really. Just the pillow and towels. And also maybe the mattress was very firm and um…a bit on the thin side.”
Emily nodded, acting like his words weren’t striking a chord of anguish in her heart.
“But really, it’s fine,” Mr. Kapowski added. “I’m a light sleeper.”