Chapter 13 - The Evening Walk Along The Battery And The Skyline Of Charleston
By seven o’clock that evening, the ""Open"" sign in the window of Nora’s Kitchen had finally been turned off.
We had sold out of every single croissant, scone, and loaf of artisan bread before three in the afternoon.
Grandma Eleanor had personally supervised the final cash count from her folding chair near the register, pocketed three complimentary lemon tarts, and demanded that I drive her back to Magnolia House before Diane tried to organize an exorcism.
Now, the sun was sinking low over Charleston harbor, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple, burning orange, and deep gold.
Nora and I were walking side by side along the historic seawall at the Battery, the cool evening breeze off the water carrying the scent of salt marsh and blooming jasmine.
She had kicked off her sensible flats and was carrying them dangling by the straps from her left hand, walking barefoot across the smooth stone pavement while I strolled beside her in my tailored trousers and rolled-up sleeves.
“Your mother hasn't called me once this afternoon,” Nora noted, her voice carrying a light, melodic note of absolute disbelief.
“She’s probably consulting three different divorce lawyers and a firm of high-priced corporate investigators to figure out who I really am,” I replied smoothly.
Nora laughed, leaning her shoulder against my arm as we walked past the grand, pastel-colored mansions that lined East Bay Street.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Tell her what? That I own a few freight terminals and a security firm?”
“That you’re basically the closest thing Charleston has to an urban legend who operates in the shadows after midnight.”
I paused, turning my head to look down at her in the fading twilight.
The amber light from a nearby gas lamp caught the sharp, lovely lines of her face, turning her dark eyes into pools of liquid gold.
“People in my line of work don't talk about themselves, Nora,” I said, my voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that made her step a little closer.
“We keep secrets. We protect assets. And occasionally, we buy a thousand dollars' worth of fake romance in a hotel café.”
Nora stopped walking.
She turned to face me, dropping her shoes to the pavement with a soft clatter, and placed both hands flat against my chest, right over my heart.
“That wasn't a fake romance, Evan,” she whispered, her voice fierce and steady against the wind off the harbor.
“Not anymore.”
I didn't say a word.
I just reached out, wrapping both arms around her waist, and pulled her hard against my chest, lifting her just an inch off the stone pavement as my mouth came down to meet hers.
The kiss wasn't a performance.
It wasn't a staged display for prying family members or arrogant billionaires in linen suits.
It was heavy, deep, and tasted like salt air, vanilla, and the absolute certainty of a war won.
When we finally broke apart, Nora was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes shining with a light that could have outshone every gas lamp on the Battery.
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“Well,” she whispered against my lips, a crooked, triumphant smile touching her mouth.
“I suppose that settles the contract.”
