She expected the door to open any second and for Maggie or Alyssa to walk back in, but whoever had knocked wasn’t making a move for the doorknob.

She reached the door and opened it, unable to stop the gasp that escaped when she saw Cody Boggs standing on her porch wearing navy-blue pants, a short-sleeved blue button-down, and a hat that cast a shadow over his beautiful face.

He took the hat off and tucked it under his arm, then trained his gaze on her. “Should you be answering the door?”

“Should you be knocking on it?”

“I thought maybe someone else would be here.”

She leaned against the door, partly because her knees had gone weak, and gazed up at him. She easily remembered the first time he’d kissed her. All she could think was I’d do a better job kissing back now that I’m older.

“Nope. Just me.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might’ve glanced down at her left hand. Did she dare hope he cared whether or not she was still single?

Eric’s face popped into her mind. He’d been handsome in a pretty, preppy way. She hoped Cody never found out about Eric. She’d been such a fool. He’d think so much less of her if he knew how she’d changed herself to become the woman she thought Eric wanted her to be.

“Did you want to come in?” she asked.

He shifted, an uncomfortable expression behind his eyes, and only then did she remember where they were standing.

“Oh, wow, Cody, I’m sorry—”

He held up a hand. “I’ll come in for a minute.”

Her house on North Road—her sweet, adorable, charming cottage—had once belonged to Daniel and Marissa. She hadn’t forgotten, of course—it was why she’d bought the place. That was why she’d named it Seaside again and had a new quarter board made so everyone else knew it too. It just hadn’t occurred to her in that moment, given her weak knees and shortness of breath.

As stifling and difficult as her memories of this morning were, she’d relive them a thousand times over if it meant Cody could go without reliving the memory of the night his dad drowned.

Should she tell him so?

He’d stepped into the entryway, and she closed the door behind him. Now what? Did she give him the tour? Did she tell him she’d made his old room hers and turned the master into a guest room—because I like sleeping in the same place you used to sleep and because I couldn’t bear to take your parents’ bedroom?

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked.

“I want you to lie down.” He motioned toward the couch.

“I really am fine.”