Marnie beams when she sees us. “What a good-looking couple you two are.”

Gray smiles as he shakes the man’s hand. “Good to see you, Scott.”

Scott claps Gray on the back. “I’m so glad you came, son. Means a lot to us.”

Both of their expressions turn grim for a moment before the heaviness disappears.

“This is Evie.”

Scott turns to me. He has the same genuine friendliness as his wife does—it simply exudes without saying a word. His tan, wrinkled skin suggests he spends plenty of time outdoors. “It’s lovely to meet you, Evie.”

“You too, Scott. Thank you for hosting us.”

He shakes my hand with a weathered palm. “Our pleasure.”

The walk from the bed-and-breakfast to the restaurant is only a few blocks. Gray and Marnie walk ahead. Scott and I amble behind. I ask him a few questions about the bed-and-breakfast. His descriptions of the family history behind the business and the upkeep he takes care of on the grounds last the whole walk. He’s still talking about the magnolias he’s cultivating when we’re led to a four-person table overlooking the water. His enthusiasm reminds me of Henry’s love for his garden. That’s the only similarity I can find between the two men Gray seems to have paternal relationships with.

“Scott!” Marnie scolds as we sit down. “That’s enough. The poor girl doesn’t want to hear about pruning and mulching.”

Scott holds his hands up in acquiescence and leans back in the wicker chair.

“It was interesting,” I insist.

Marnie’s bracelets jingle as she waves my words away. “No need to be polite, dear. I zone out every time.”

I smile at that.

“Now, how did you two meet?” Marnie takes a slice of bread from the basket on the table and spreads butter on it, waiting expectantly.

I glance at Gray, letting him take the lead.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he answers. “Evie grew up next door to me.”

“My goodness, isn’t that sweet?” Marnie smiles as she looks between the two of us. “You just started dating recently?”

“Yep.” Gray takes a sip of his water.

“There was always a spark, though?”

“I guess.” Another sip.

Marnie doesn’t take the hint that this isn’t Gray’s first choice of conversation topics. “There must have been a moment, right? When you realized there was something there?”

Gray gives me a look that could be loosely translated to, A little help here?

I avert my eyes and grab a roll for myself, buttering with slow, deliberate strokes. Not only am I terrible about coming up with lies on short notice, but anything I might say along the lines of love at first sight would also hit embarrassingly close to home.

“Uh, yeah. Probably.”

A romantic, Gray is not.

Marnie disagrees.

“How special.” She demonstrates an accurate impression of a Victorian era swoon.