I felt my eyes crinkle when my smile widened. I couldn’t keep the silly grin off my face. Convinced I was sporting a pretty Joker-esque expression, I tried to downplay it. Was this how everyone felt when they were with someone who made their heart beat faster? When they didn’t have to hold back and keep each other a secret? When they could be unashamedly, unreservedly happy? I couldn’t believe I’d gone without it for years.

“You look happy,” Lucy said, reaching for the tip jar. “It’s a good look on you,” she said with a soft smile.

I ducked my head, blushing. “Yeah? I feel like the whole town has seen our PDA, but I don’t even care. This feels—I’ve never—” I couldn’t even articulate it. “God, I’ve lost the ability to word.”

“A known side effect,” she said with a wicked smirk. “In the book of Babe and Levi: A Love Story, make sure I get all the credit!”

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s lo—” I stopped. She’d already dumped the tip jar upside down and was busy counting out the coins.

Before she noticed the pause, I started the dishwasher, unplugged all our appliances, and turned the air-conditioning down. By the time the dishwasher was halfway through the rinse cycle, Busy’s was empty.

“Divided up the tips,” said Lucy, pointing to two small piles on the counter. “I know you have a date tonight, so I can close up here, if you want.”

I shot her a grateful smile. “I owe you one.”

My bike made it up to the lighthouse in ten minutes. When I turned around, right at the crest of the hill, I could see Busy’s below, warm and lit from within with a rosy glow. A second later, the lights flickered off, and I knew that Lucy would be heading home.

Hunching my shoulders against the cool night air, I headed inside.

The faintest whisper of vanilla lingered in the air, a remnant of last night’s candle, along with the morning’s slow-cooker seafood chowder. I had half a loaf of rustic bread on the counter, and in the fridge, a wedge of cheese, a plump handful of grapes, and some crisp romaine lettuce leaves.

I lifted the lid of the slow cooker and inhaled. The savory scent of potato, carrot, and onion cooked in broth wafted upward, along with the coastal freshness of clam and shrimp. I sprinkled in a touch of pepper, putting the pepper grinder down just as the door shut.

“Hey.”

I glanced up to see a pink-cheeked Levi in front of me, tugging off his shoes. “The door was open,” he said.

I turned around to grab bowls and spoons. “Can you give me a hand with the salad?”

“Of course.” He began mixing in shredded cheese and baby tomatoes.