He reached for her hand across the table, and Dylan let him take it, though she felt like she was holding on to something that might not be hers to keep.
"That whole performance was about her trying to remind me—and you—of what we had. But what she doesn't understand is that I don't want what we had. It wasn't real. It was me trying to be the person everyone expected me to be."
"She fits in your world," Dylan said. "I don't even know which fork to use half the time."
"I don't care about forks. I care about you. About us. About building something real."
Dylan wanted to believe him. But Victoria's perfume still lingered in the air, expensive and elegant, a reminder of everything Dylan wasn't. And the way the whole restaurant had watched their interaction—she could read their thoughts. Poor Dylan. How can she compete with that?
"Hey," Aidan said softly, squeezing her hand. "Look at me."
She did, and found his gaze steady, almost fierce.
"I moved on from Victoria seven years ago. The only reason I'm even sitting here talking about her is because she won't let the past stay buried. But you—" his voice dropped, intense, "—you're my present. You're who I choose. Please believe that."
Dylan nodded, not trusting her voice. Because she wanted to believe it. She desperately wanted to believe it.
But as they returned to their cooling dinner, making conversation that felt forced after Victoria's interruption, Dylan couldn't shake the feeling that had settled into her bones like a chill—Victoria knew how to belong in Aidan's world. And Dylan was still figuring out if she even wanted to try.
They finished dinner with the quiet unease of people who'd survived a storm only to discover the damage it left behind. As they walked home through November darkness, Main Street quiet except for the whisper of wind through bare branches, Dylan felt something fundamental shift—not in the world but in herself.
At her apartment door, Aidan pulled her close enough that she could feel his heartbeat.
Dylan's mind was still replaying the restaurant—Victoria's practiced laugh, the casual way she'd referenced dancing in the rain, Christmas at the estate, the intimate knowledge of Aidan's tells. She fits in his world. She knows how to be what he needs.
"I feel like I've wasted so much time," he whispered, inhaling the scent of her as if he were committing it to memory. "We could have been doing this for five years." He nipped at her lips and then soothed it with a kiss both soft and consuming.
The kiss scattered her thoughts like leaves in wind. For a moment, there was no Victoria, no comparisons, no doubt—just the taste of him, the warmth of his hands on her waist, the way he held her like she was something precious rather than something temporary.
Her breath was shallow and came in pants when he released her what felt like only seconds later. She didn't want him to stop.
"No regrets," she said. "The timing wasn't right."
"And now?" he asked, his green gaze intense on hers.
She swallowed hard, feeling like a coward. She'd dreamed of this for five years, but there'd been a safety in her vision. She'd never expected to stay here. To put down roots. Make this her home. And now that it looked like Laurel Valley was hers, there was a whole new weight bearing down on her of what a real relationship would mean. What if Victoria's right? What if I can't change patterns that have been ingrained my whole life? What if I'm not enough for him—not sophisticated enough, not polished enough, not permanent enough?
"And now the timing is right to see what this is," she said. "To see if it's real."
She could tell by the disappointment in his eyes that it wasn't the answer he'd wanted. But it was the only answer she could give.
He kissed her again softly and then took a step back. "Next Saturday. Eagle’s Point. We'll search for the final clue."
"The final clue," she agreed, though they both knew they were talking about more than Patrick's treasure hunt.
She unlocked her door and went inside, closing it behind her and then leaning against it. The responsibility of witnessed moments, of public claims and private promises weighed heavy. Victoria had made everything look so effortless—the belonging, the memories, the way she moved through Aidan's world like she'd been born to it. And here Dylan stood in her paint-splattered apartment, grease still under her fingernails despite scrubbing, wondering if she'd ever be more than the mechanic who got lucky.
In one week, they'd climb to the highest point on O'Hara land, find whatever Patrick had hidden there. But would it matter? Would finding some ring change the fact that she didn't know how to dance in the rain, had never hosted elegant Christmas parties, couldn't casually reference shared memories that spanned years instead of months?
But tonight she would treasure the moments—the way his mouth fit against hers, the way his kiss had silenced all her doubts, if only briefly—and not think too much about the future. She'd never had to think about the future before. She'd focus on the restoration shop and the treasure hunt, and anything else could wait.
But somewhere between fixing what was broken and finding what was hidden, she was discovering that the greatest restoration project might be her own heart—learning to trust that some things, some people, some loves were worth the risk of staying still long enough to see what grew. Even if she wasn't sure she knew how.
Chapter Ten
The week following their public dinner unfolded like a flower blooming in time-lapse—each day revealing new colors, new complications, new ways for Dylan to doubt everything while simultaneously feeling more certain than she’d ever been. Laurel Valley had absorbed Aidan’s declaration with the efficiency of a small town that treated romance like community property, and Dylan couldn’t buy coffee without someone offering relationship advice disguised as pleasantries.
Wednesday afternoon found her at the restoration shop, watching Hank’s crew install the final pieces of equipment while her mind churned through Saturday’s approaching climb to Eagle’s Point. The final clue. The ring. The end of excuses to spend time with Aidan that didn’t require admitting that there was more waiting for them.
