Page 84 of What Remains of Grace

Work. There was always work.

He hauled himself out of bed, showered under water that refused to hit a stable temperature, and dressed in clean jeans and a collared shirt that didn’t quite feel like his. In the mirror, he looked almost like any other contractor getting ready to stand in front of an inspector and pretend not to care what the verdict would be.

He did not look like a man who’d had the best and worst night of his summer all at once.

* * *

By the time he pulled up in front of The Blue Cypress, the inspector’s white sedan was already there. Jenna’s car sat beside it, neat and centered, like she’d been careful to park exactly straight.

He swallowed, grabbed his folder, and then headed inside.

When he walked in, the inspector was in the middle of introducing himself, a middle-aged guy with a sunburned neck and his own clipboard. Jenna stood beside him behind the front counter, posture calm and professional.

If he hadn’t known her, Cole would’ve thought she looked perfectly composed.

Knowing her, though, he saw the tightness at the corners of her mouth. The way her fingers worried the edge of a menu just a little too much. The way her eyes skated past him once, quick and skittish, before locking onto the inspector like he was the only person in the room.

“Morning,” Cole said. His voice sounded even, and that felt like a small miracle. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“Right on time,” the inspector said briskly. “You must be Bennett. Heard good things.”

“I like it when that happens,” Cole replied. His gaze flicked to Jenna. “You ready?”

“Let’s do it,” she said.

If there was any double meaning in it, she kept it buried so deep no one but him would ever hear it.

They moved through the bakery as a unit, with the inspector in front, Cole beside him, Jenna just behind. The inspector checked outlets with a voltage meter, peered under sinks, and asked about grease traps and hood systems. Cole answered most of the questions. Sometimes Jenna did. Their words never overlapped, but they flowed, passing the responsibility back and forth like they’d been doing this together for years.

From the outside, it probably looked seamless.

Inside, his nerves hummed every time they ended up standing too close. Her shoulder near his arm. Her perfume, light, citrusy, familiar now, brushing the air between them. Their hands reaching for the same document once and jerking back like they’d touched something live.

The inspector frowned once at a GFCI outlet that didn’t trip quite as fast as he liked. Cole made a note and fixed it on the spot. Everything else passed.

“You’ve got a good thing here,” the man said at last, standing in the middle of the front room and making one last note on his sheet. “Clean work. Thoughtful layout. You won’t have any trouble with occupancy.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said. Her voice wobbled just once before she recovered. “We appreciate you coming out.”

He tore the top copy off the form and handed it to her. “You’re officially cleared. Congratulations.”

Her breath left her in a slow rush. Cole watched her stare at the paper like she was afraid it might vanish.

“Thanks,” he said. His own relief landed like a sudden drop in altitude. “We’ll have that outlet documentation uploaded by the end of the day.”

“Good,” the inspector said. He glanced between the two of them, some remote awareness of the strange tension passing across his face, but he didn’t comment. “Enjoy opening day.”

He left with a jangle of the doorbell and a sweep of hot air. Silence followed in his wake.

Jenna held the paper close, her thumb brushing the embossed seal as if anchoring herself to it.

“You did it,” Cole said. It came out softer than he intended.

“We did it,” she corrected automatically. Then, as if realizing how dangerous that sounded, she took a step back. “Thank you. For . . . all of this.”

He nodded. “You’re good to go. I’ll send the final closeout package this week.”

The opening he’d been waiting for since he arrived this morning finally appeared, quiet and fragile, just wide enough for the truth if he was brave enough to offer it. They were finally alone, and he couldn’t let it be the last time. He stepped toward it.