Still he didn’t move. Instead of looking at her, he looked at Toby. Then he began walking slowly. But he didn’t make it all the way to the back steps. Instead he stopped halfway. “Toby, I love Bree.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’d like your permission to marry her.”

Bree gasped. “Hold it! I’m—I’m glad you love me, but it’s way too soon—”

“Really?” Toby exclaimed. “Really? I say yes!”

She couldn’t believe the leap of faith Mike was making, the courage he displayed in offering his heart to someone he had no right to trust. But it was three o’clock in the morning, and they were exhausted. It was too early to talk about the future. She needed to set him straight. Except in order to do that, she first had to stop smiling, and she couldn’t seem to manage that.

As Mike gazed into her eyes, she pressed her cheek against the top of Toby’s soft head. “I love you, too. With all my heart. But for now, I’m only interested in pancakes.”

Mike cleared his throat, which didn’t stop the swell of emotion in his voice. “How about I make them? I’m really good at it.”

She looked down at Toby. Toby looked up at her. “I say yes,” he whispered.

She had Toby in her arms, but her eyes found Mike’s. “I guess I’ll have to say yes, too, then.”

His blazing smile cut through all the darkness left inside her. She held out her hand. He took it. And the three of them went inside.

LUCY COULDN’T GO BACK TO the cottage tonight. Whatever was transpiring there needed to unfold without an outsider looking on. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m going to bunk down in the boat for what’s left of the night.”

Panda stood by the picnic table, one foot on the bench. “You can stay in the house.”

“The boat’ll be fine.” But before she went anywhere, she had to clean up. Not just from the dirt and honey but from the tiny slivers of glass cutting her. Even though the outside shower only had cold water and she had nothing to change into, she didn’t want to go in the house. She’d wrap up in one of the beach towels and change at the cottage in the morning.

She walked past him toward the shower, hating this stilted awkwardness, hating him for causing it, hating herself for being so hurt by it. “The shower’s not working,” he said from behind her. “The pipe broke last week. Use your old bathroom. I never got around to moving back downstairs.”