He was rambling, and Stella realized all at once why. He had said before he didn’t have any ideas, but now it seemed like he had at least one: Sam wanted to take her out on a date.
A large part of her wanted to say yes. Sam was charming and kind, and he was handsome in a rugged way that made Stella feel safe with him.
The problem was, she was only going to be in Willow Beach for a few days, and there was no reason to make things more complicated than they needed to be. It would be better for both of them if they didn’t get too attached.
Stella clutched Sam’s hands in both of hers and smiled. “You are so sweet, but you don’t need to do that for me. You’ve helped me enough already, and I couldn’t possibly steal any more of your time. Thank you for the dance, though.”
Before he could respond, Stella slipped away and went back to the bar. Georgia and Alma made eyes at one another and asked too many leading questions about Sam, forcing Stella to admit he was a tremendous dancer and easy on the eyes, as well, but when Stella told them she was tired for a second time, neither of them fought her on it.
Drew offered to drive Stella back up to the inn. When she got to her room, she changed into pajamas and fell immediately into bed. Today had been the longest day she’d had in months, if not years. So, despite her racing thoughts, Stella fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
6
Stella smelled pancakes before she even opened her eyes.
The smell was familiar and comforting, and she smiled, pulling the blankets under her chin and snuggling further into the mattress.
She and Jace had eaten pancakes every Saturday morning for as long as Stella could remember. When he was little, she sliced fruit on top to look like eyes and a nose and a beard. As he got older, she invested in expensive jams and syrups from a specialty market down the street from her office building.
The first weekend after he left for college, Stella woke up and made pancakes, but she made more than she’d ever be able to eat on her own, and the whole routine made her sad. What was the point of the tradition if she didn’t have anyone to share it with? Every Saturday since then, she’d opted for coffee, half a grapefruit, and a slice of buttered toast. A new routine, not nearly as cute as the old one.
She slipped back into sleep, but when she woke up a bit later, the smell of pancakes hit her again. Only this time, she sat bolt upright in bed.
The bedroom was bright and tidy…and unfamiliar.
It took a few seconds for Stella to remember where she was and why. Then, she heard the distant, muffled sounds of other people moving around the inn. She heard the seagulls squawking nearby, and the sound of water lapping at the shore.
The day before had been such a bizarre whirlwind that Stella almost wrote it all off as a dream. But no, she was really here, at the Willow Beach Inn. And according to Sam, she was going to be here for at least one more day and night, so she might as well get out of bed and start her day.
She dug some clothes out of her suitcase and padded into the bathroom adjoining her room for a shower. As she’d gotten older, Stella had noticed her hair being less oily than it used to. She used to wash her hair every day, but now she only washed it a couple times per week. After the day she had yesterday, today was most certainly going to be one of those days.
The shampoo in the shower was much better than the typical hotel soap. It lathered luxuriously, and Stella spent more time than necessary running her fingers through her hair and scrubbing every single strand with the lavender scent.
When she was done, she pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and a loose linen blouse and headed downstairs for the breakfast Drew had raved about the day before.
Stella expected to find the rest of the inn’s guests at the small tables just off the kitchen. She expected to hear chatter and the clanking of silverware. Instead, as she came down the main staircase, all was quiet. And when she turned into the dining room, the tables were empty.
She turned in a circle, looking for a sign of anyone, and that was when she noticed the clock hanging on the wall. And the time.
“Ten thirty?” She was so surprised she said it out loud. How could it be ten thirty? Stella hadn’t slept in past eight in the morning in eighteen years.
Being a person who liked routines came very naturally to Stella. Even when she didn’t try, her body clung to routines such as her wake-up time. Stella never set an alarm because she didn’t have to. On weekdays, she woke up at six thirty in the morning, and on weekends, she woke up at eight. Give or take a few minutes, of course, but no more than a few.
It wasn’t as if Stella’s nights were perfect and peaceful, either. Jace didn’t sleep through the night until he was eleven. After they got through sleep training and regressions, bed-wetting, and monsters under the bed, he started having night terrors. He had one per night like clockwork every night until sixth grade. Stella couldn’t do anything to help him aside from sit and talk with him until he came fully back to consciousness. When he
