Page 65 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

At the sound of someone’s incredulous, angry, and disgusted proclamation, Ethan wrenched away from Emily, only to feel his stomach drop. Julia was there, looking at both of them with a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Ethan—” Emily began, as if knowing her time was significantly limited with him, and anything she wanted to say, she would have to get in right then and there or it would never be heard at all.

But Ethan was past listening. Not for the job, not for anyone. All he cared about was Gem and doing anything he could to take that expression away from her, one that was all too familiar. One that also turned his stomach and filled his chest with regret.

Pushing past Emily and hardly sparing her a glance, he stepped toward Gem just as she turned on her heel and walked away, moving quickly along the hall in the direction she’d just come from. Ethan picked up the pace, realizing she was walking faster than he’d originally anticipated and he was losing ground.

He did a double take as he passed Noah, who was standingnow in the dining area, along with Maggie, Katy, and Norman, all of them watching in wide-eyed bemusement as things unfolded.

Ethan didn’t even bother to explain. He followed Julia down the stairs toward what he thought was going to be her bedroom, but she veered in the opposite direction, through the kitchen and toward the glass doors that led to the walk-out.

“Julia!” he called, but she had already pushed them open.

Rain filled the small space, spattering against the tiles as she stalked through the doors and went out into the yard.

Biting out a curse, Ethan hesitated for only a second before following her out.

The beautiful day that they had experienced just this morning had turned into a storm, the sky gray and the rain coming down hard enough for him to feel a gradual soaking-through, but not immediate and torrential like it had been the other day. He made sure to close the doors behind him, and then he looked to see where she had gone.

Since the walk-out was a part of the stone foundation that gave way to a separate entrance to the house, it had always seemed to him like the house’s secret heart. A cool spot in the warmth of summer, a dim reprieve on sunny afternoons, filled with the scent of stone and lake air. In his parents’ day, it had been an entrance to the bottom level of the house, a place for storage and old furniture. Julia had transformed it into something magical—an opening into the kitchen, where he could imagine the natural light streaming in every morning, a backdrop to her sunrise baking habits, a beacon that shone through the sweet scents suspended in the air. He was distracted momentarily by his nostalgia and imagination, but now he cameback to the present moment, stepping into the rain and finding himself face-to-face with Julia, breathing heavily, eyes blazing, the rain pelting down on her in steady rivulets.

“What do youwant?” she cried.

“I just want to talk!” he yelled back, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the rain pattering against the gravel pathway that curved around the back.

“You had eight years to talk, Ethan!” She wiped at her face, and he didn’t know if she was swiping at the rain or wiping away tears. “Eightfuckingyears, and instead you chose to ignore me completely, to let me do everything”—her voice cracked—“everythingon my own. And for what? Was it worth it? Was what I did so terrible that you had to fucking ghost me for almost a decade until you needed me for something?” She shook her head, and now he knew that thoseweretears running down her face. “That’s why things will never be the same between us. We can pretend like we get along, we can reminisce about old times, we can even fucking kiss. But we’ll never be what we were before.”

Her words cut him in a place so deep, he felt winded. The worst part was, she wasn’t wrong. Even if he’d pretended otherwise, believing that one day he could reach out and they’d pick up where they left off, some quiet part of him had always known the truth. Known that he had fucked up irrevocably and that there would be no coming back from it.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could think to say, as weak and ineffectual as it was. “I’m just so damn sorry.”

And he was, for all of it. Not just for the eight years, but for the very moment when he’d known things were going to change for them and he’d felt powerless to stop it. Like a forceout of his control was driving him, pushing him toward making the biggest mistake of his life.

But he’d been stupid. And immature. And he had held a good thing, a perfect thing, in his hands, and then he’d gotten scared that he was going to break it. So he’d let it go.

He stared at her now as she absorbed his apology, probably about to reject it, standing drenched and shivering in the autumn rain. The trees around them in the forest were a brilliant auburn and orange, slowly starting to fade to brown as the season wore on and the rainy, windy days came more frequently. The sun was fading quickly, and it cast its rays sporadically through the dark clouds, a single beam here and there, illuminating the golden leaves like spotlights. One shone directly behind her, and her hair glowed like a halo, frizzy and waterlogged, with a slight wave to it from the rain.

She was so fucking beautiful. He had always known it, just like everything else he’d always known but never acted on. He’d still screwed up somehow, but seeing her in this moment in the rain, on the verge of losing her for the second time, losing her again even though he’d never really had her—it took his breath away how beautiful she was. She was everything familiar to him, all the comfort and nostalgia of a home he’d never experienced. Because all his life, it had been her.

Shehad been home.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being so close to her without touching her for another second. She might reject him, slap him, or shove him away, but he had to try. He had to reach out and hold her and promise that, if she wanted, he wouldn’t let her go again.

In two strides he was there, gathering her in his arms, her body, drenched now and trembling, drawn into his. To hiseverlasting relief, she didn’t pull away and instead allowed him to shape her body to his, pressing her into his chest and holding her tightly. He tilted his head back slightly to look at her, and she did the same. He would never know who made the first move, but before he realized it, their lips collided and they were kissing.

It was just as good as the one before it, if not better. Gem’s lips on his, Gem’s body in his arms—this was what felt right. This was how it was supposed to be.

The rain had begun in earnest, harder than before, any trace of sun gone as the gray clouds turned darker by the minute. Ethan pulled away reluctantly and looked up, rain pelting his face with stinging drops.

“Should we go back inside?” he said, pressing his lips to her cheekbone, right by her ear.

She shook her ahead against him and nodded to somewhere behind him. He turned, and there, in his line of sight, was a medium-size shed, blue with white trim. It must have been another new addition to the landscape, since it didn’t resemble anything similar to the beaten-down wooden shack that had housed Ethan’s father’s tools and lawn equipment.

“There!” she said loudly to be heard over the storm. “Go there!”

He nodded, not interested in questioning her in the heavy downpour, and grabbed her hand before making a run for it across the grass. She kept up well enough, and soon they were in the dry space, the only evidence of rain the slapping of raindrops on the tin roof. Once they were inside, she pressed herself against him again, and he didn’t think; he folded her into his arms and kissed her once more, pressing his lips to her warm, soft, plush mouth over and over.

“Why are we here?” he asked between kisses, showering them over her cheeks, her nose, her jaw.