Page 47 of Serenity at Seagrove
"I'm not shutting down," Luna said. Her voice felt hollow, even to her own ears. "I'm being practical, professional. It's what I should have done all along."
"There's nothing practical about pretending your heart isn't breaking."
Luna paused her straightening of the room. "Well then, what would you have me do, Janine? Beg him to stay? Tell him that in the few months that I've known him, he's become essential?"
Janine said nothing for a moment, then softly replied, "Yes."
Luna turned away. "Look, he needs to make this decision without the complications of worrying about me and my feelings, without me making it harder than it probably already is."
"What about your decision and your feelings?"
"My feelings don't matter, not in this." Luna squared her shoulders, as she had done so many times in her life. "I got to follow my dreams and come here to Seagrove. I cannot ask him to give up his."
A car door slammed outside. Her first client was arriving. Luna took a deep breath.
"Luna," Janine said from the doorway, "just promise me one thing. Don't push him away before he even has a chance to make the choice for himself."
But as Luna prepared to greet her client, she knew she had to do exactly that.
If she didn't start to push him away now, she wasn't sure she would ever be strong enough to let him go when the time came.
It was the worst possible outcome, but she knew what had to be done.
* * *
Archer made it to Serenity for his usual morning visit, coffee in hand, a habit he'd developed as he got to know Luna. She always had the same coffee order, a latte with a shot of caramel syrup. But something felt different as soon as he stepped onto the porch.
Through the window, he could see Luna moving around, but she looked stiffer, more controlled—not her usual happy, go-lucky self. When she opened the door, she had a professional smile, not the one she usually gave when she saw him. This was the smile from the first time they met, but it hadn't been directed at him in weeks.
“Archer, I’m sorry, but I have a full schedule today. I won’t be able to chat. I’m sorry you wasted time getting those coffees.”
He frowned, noting the careful distance she kept between them. “I just thought after the other night?—”
“Oh, the other night was lovely,” she said, her voice very neutral. “But you know, I’ve been thinking—I really need to focus on Serenity right now, and on my clients.”
“Luna—” He stepped forward, but she moved back slightly.
“I think it’s important that we maintain appropriate boundaries,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I let things become unprofessional, and that’s totally my fault.”
“Unprofessional?” His chest tightened. “Is that what you think the other night was?”
“What I think doesn’t matter.” She finally looked at him, and there was something in her eyes that made his chest ache. “What matters is that we both have responsibilities and careers to think about.”
He felt like he was watching the most precious thing in his life slip right through his fingers. “Did I do something wrong or say something?—”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I need some space to think clearly.”
He wanted to tell her about Oakland Hills and how torn he felt, and how she had become the most important part of his day. But the words were stuck in his throat, trapped behind the fear of losing her completely.
“Right. Space. Sure.” He turned to leave and then paused. “Just tell me one thing—was any of it real, or was I just another project for you to fix?”
The hurt that flashed across her face made him regret the words immediately. But before he could apologize or take them back, she closed the door between them.
He stood on the porch for a long moment after Luna closed the door, the coffees growing cold in his hands. He could see her move to her desk, her back straight, but he caught a slight tremor in her hands as she shuffled papers. He wanted to knock again, to demand answers, to understand what had changed between them since that magical evening on the dance floor.
But her words echoed in his head—appropriate boundaries, unprofessional.
They cut like tiny knives.
