The air was heavy, like the whole town was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen.
The café was quieter than usual. There had been a few tourists wandering through for coffee and pastries, but no one stayed long. They were just passing through, like a faint breeze that didn't linger.
Emery sat by the window, watching the street outside. The autumn leaves had begun to gather in little whirlwinds along the curb, like they had nowhere better to be.
Cal was at the counter, sorting through the boxes of old photographs that had been gathering dust for weeks. He was lost in the task, his fingers brushing over faded faces and places they'd once visited. It wasn't so much the photographs that kept his attention; it was the spaces between them—the moments he couldn't hold onto anymore, the years he couldn't get back.
She knew he wasn't really looking at the pictures. She knew because she'd seen that look on his face too many times before. It was the same look he had when he thought no one was watching, the look that told her he was somewhere far, far away, chasing ghosts.
Finally, she stood up, stretching the stiffness from her arms. She crossed the room and sat across from him, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had gone lukewarm.
"You're avoiding me," she said softly.
He glanced up, as if surprised she'd spoken at all. "Not avoiding," he replied, setting the photo down and meeting her gaze. "Just… thinking."
"About what?"
He let out a quiet breath, his fingers tracing the edge of the wooden table. "Everything."
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching him closely. "That's not a good enough answer, Cal."
He gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. It's not. I'm just… trying to figure out if I'm allowed to be here. With you. After all this time. After everything."
Emery's heart ached for him. And for herself.
"You are," she said, her voice steady. "You don't have to earn your place here, Cal. You've already done that by showing up. That's more than enough."
"But it doesn't feel like enough," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I left without a word, Em. I left you with nothing. Not even a goodbye."
"I know," she said quietly. "And it hurt."
She didn't need to say more. He could hear it in her voice, in the space between her words. He could feel the weight of that hurt now, like it was a part of the air in the room, thick and suffocating.
"But I'm here now," he added, the words coming out slower, like he was testing them. "And I'm not leaving again. Not unless you tell me to."
Emery studied him, her eyes tracing the lines of his face—so familiar, so close, but still so far away in a way that she couldn't quite explain. She'd spent so many years building her life without him, without the possibility of him returning. And now, here he was, sitting across from her, asking for a chance. And she wanted to give it to him. But something still held her back.
"I don't know how to be the person you want me to be," she confessed. "I don't know how to go back to the way things were."
"Neither do I," he admitted. "But I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking if we can try something new. Something real."
Her breath caught in her chest. Something real. The words echoed in her mind, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the past didn't seem so unbearable. Maybe… just maybe… they could build something new together. Something that wasn't based on the ghosts of who they used to be, but on the people they were now.
Emery closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet settle in around them. The hum of the café, the soft patter of the rain outside, the distant calls of the gulls. It felt like a stillness between storms—a moment suspended in time, where nothing had to be decided yet.
But the moment wasn't endless. It never was.
"I don't want to rush this," she said softly, finally opening her eyes to meet his. "I need time to figure out who we are now. To figure out who I am now."
Cal nodded, a small but understanding smile on his lips. "I can wait. I'll wait as long as it takes. For you. For us."
And for the first time in a long time, Emery felt something stir inside her—a warmth, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a storm. It wasn't an answer. Not yet. But it was a start.
The door to the café creaked open, and the bell above it jingled. The moment was over, but it wasn't lost.
Emery stood up, breaking the silence. "Guess we better get to work. We've got a town to feed."
Cal chuckled, pushing back from the table. "Always. I'm still not sure how you do it all."
She gave him a small smile, the weight of their conversation hanging between them, but lighter now.
"I'm just good at pretending," she said, tapping her temple. "And baking a mean scone."
Cal shook his head, but his smile was real this time. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd miss those damn scones."
"You have no idea what you've been missing."
They moved to the counter together, side by side, and for a moment, the quiet wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... theirs.