Page 48 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
He grins, that boyish sparkle tugging at his mouth. “Yeah. Looks like things are about to get interesting.”
Interesting doesn’t even begin to cover it. We survived this campaign rollercoaster together, and instead of crashing, we came out grinning. Who would’ve guessed?
"I’ve got to tell you, Ethan," I say, bumping shoulders with him. "We make a pretty killer team."
He chuckles, that grin of his stretching wider. “You’re a terrific teammate, Ami. We didn’t win, but we definitely made a splash.”A splash? Please. More like a tidal wave. And the best part about a tidal wave is seeing what the aftermath changes forever.
As we stroll through the town square, people nod and wave at us, pride sparking in their eyes. My chest swells—yeah, maybe we weren’t crowned the champions, but we started something, something people are talking about. That deserves a celebration.
“How about ice cream?” I suggest, pointing toward the corner shop with its neon sign promising “The Creamiest Scoops in Town.”
Ethan’s eyes light up. A minute later, we’re strutting down the street like a pair of small-town superheroes who just saved the day. And in a way, maybe we did. We claim a bench overlooking the ocean, cones in hand, the sunset painting the sky in wild streaks of pink and gold. It’s the kind of moment that belongs in a cheesy romance novel—and for once, I don’t even want to rollmy eyes at it. I kind of want to lean in and live it. And maybe something sweeter too—because sitting here with him, sunset at our backs, I’m starting to think the real win isn’t about the election at all.
“Cheers to us,” I say, raising my cone like a champagne glass.
Ethan chuckles, tapping his against mine. “To us.”
We each take a big bite, grinning like fools as the sweet cream melts on our tongues. The waves crash below us, the town buzzes behind us, and for the first time, I can taste the victory in losing.
“I never thought campaigning could be… fun,” Ethan admits, licking a rogue drip from his cone. I grin, chasing raspberry drizzle with my thumb. “Who knew politics came with sprinkles? Maybe we missed our true calling.”
Ethan laughs, the sound rolling with the tide. “Well, if the campaign thing doesn’t pan out, we could always open a detective agency.” I nearly snort ice cream out my nose. “Right, because Seabrook is dying for a couple of drama-loving sleuths.”
We’re still laughing when Ethan leans just a little closer, the sunset throwing gold across his face. My laughter catches in my throat as his hand brushes mine on the bench. It’s subtle—hesitant—but it’s enough to set my pulse racing again.
And then, just like that, he kisses me. Soft at first, tentative, like he’s asking permission. My heart flips, my ice cream forgotten as I lean in. The ocean roars, the sun blazes, and for one perfect moment, the whole town disappears. When he finally pulls back, both of us a little breathless, he murmurs, “Guess we make a pretty great team after all.”
“Best team,” I manage, though my voice comes out in more of a dreamy sigh.
We laugh again, lighter this time, the kiss hanging between us like a promise of what’s next. And in that moment—with seaair in my hair, sugar on my lips, and Ethan’s kiss still warm on mine, I wouldn’t trade this for the world.
As the last light dips below the horizon, Ethan’s voice softens. “So… what’s next for us, Ami?”
I grin, trying to play it cool even though my heart is still racing from that kiss. “Who knows? But whatever it is—it’s going to be epic.”What I don’t say is that part of me is already wondering if we are the next big thing. My lips are still tingling, my pulse still skipping, and suddenly “epic” doesn’t just mean Seabrook’s future. It meansours.
The night settles around us, the square buzzing with laughter and fireworks of celebration in the distance. Eventually, we wander back, hand in hand, letting the town’s energy fade behind us. The campaign, the tension, the what-ifs—they’re still there, but quieter now, softened by the glow of what we’ve just shared.
***
Later, I’m curled up in Aunt Maggie’s living room, the cozy glow of candlelight replacing the neon chaos of the day. A steaming mug of tea warms my palms. The campaign tension feels like a ghost that’s finally left the building. And if I catch myself smiling into my tea, or brushing my fingers across my lips like I can still feel that kiss. Well, that’s between me and the candlelight.
Aunt Maggie sits across from me, her posture softer than I’ve seen in weeks. Her voice carries both weight and warmth when she says, “Ami, I owe you an apology.”
Whoa. Plot twist.
I sip my tea, letting the words settle. It's not every day that Aunt Maggie admits she's wrong, so this is new territory. “It’s okay, Aunt Maggie. We didn’t always agree, but my intentions were always to do right by Seabrook."
Aunt Maggie nods, her eyes reflecting a newfound understanding. "And you know what, Ami? I think you were onto something. Maybe I was too set in my ways, too caught up in preserving the past instead of looking towards the future." I reach out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "We all make mistakes, Aunt Maggie. What's important is that we learn from them and move forward together."
There's a moment of quiet reflection between us, the weight of past disagreements hanging in the air like a fog. But in that silence, there's also a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we can find common ground. "I just want you to know, Ami, how proud I am of you," Aunt Maggie says, her voice thick with emotion. "You may have sided against me in the campaign, but I can see now that your intentions were pure. You truly care about the future of this town, and for that, I am grateful."
Her words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for what to say. But then, with a deep breath, I find my voice. "Aunt Maggie, I..." I start, but the words get stuck in my throat. How do I explain to her that my actions were never meant to hurt her, but to fight for what I believed in?
Her gaze softens as she waits patiently for me to continue. "I want you to know that I never meant to undermine your efforts," I say, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my belly. "But when I learned about the true history of Seabrook, I couldn't just sit back and ignore it. I had to fight for what I believed was right."
Aunt Maggie nods, a small smile playing at her lips. "I understand, dear,” she says gently. "And I respect your passion and dedication to preserving our town's history. Perhaps I was too focused on holding onto the past that I failed to see the potential for positive change." Her words wash over me like a wave of relief, and I feel a weight being lifted from my shoulders.Her willingness to listen and understand means more to me than I can express.
"I am sorry, Aunt Maggie," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I am sorry if my actions caused you any pain or disappointment. That was never my intention. I only wanted to do what I believed was best for Seabrook." She reaches across the space between us, taking my hand in hers. "There's no need to apologize anymore, Ami," she says, her voice warm with affection. "If anything, I owe you the apology for not being more open-minded and receptive to your ideas. You've proven yourself to be a true advocate for our town's future, and I couldn't be prouder of you."
