Page 51 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

“No, the website!” Maggie said with her tinkling laugh. “We just never get around to updating it. We figured, as long as the booking works, and there’s word of mouth, that should get us by for now. Some people have posted nice pictures on Tripadvisor!” she added, her enthusiasm present, though perhaps a bit misplaced.

Ethan should have been paying more attention to what Maggie was saying—Julia needed an updated website; people could barely do online booking—but something else she had said before was poking at his mind, like when you suck air into a cavity just to feel it hurt.

“You said you live just down the way?” he asked carefully. “Whereabouts?”

“Oh, it’s such a funny story. I actually live in the cottage that Julia’s family used to own!”

Ethan felt like the floor was falling out from underneath him. Maggie—Julia’s housekeeper—herfamily had been the one to buy the old Schaeffer cottage?

Ethan remembered when it had finally sold. Julia’s dad had held on to it for so long, Ethan’s family had thought it would eventually just go to rot. But then a family had moved in,locals, his parents had said, looking for a bigger place closer to the water. He had never thought too much about them, nor had anyone bothered to go see them. The trees had grown thick between the two cottages at that point, the path overgrown, the dock on that end dismantled. There was no reason to go visit, to see strangers there, from some misguided sense of loyalty or nostalgia. To think, things had come full circle, and now the new owners’ daughter was here, working with Julia, athisparents’—

“Julia’s family owned a cottage here? Why wouldn’t she use that one for the bed-and-breakfast?” Seemingly realizing what he had asked, and how it would leave Maggie and her family out of the picture, Noah tried to backtrack. “I mean, if circumstances, you know—thankfully things worked out the way—”

Maggie giggled and waved her hand, as if to sayno harm done. “It’s a valid question. But no, apparently Julia’s dad hadn’t wanted to keep their cottage in the family and was looking to sell—and this place belonged to family friends, who wanted to see it go into good hands, so Julia was the perfect candidate to purchase it!”

Go into good hands.

Ethan couldn’t hear Noah’s response over the ringing in his ears. Is that what Julia told people? That his family had sold it to her so someone could finally take care of the place? Since their only flesh-and-blood son couldn’t be trusted to do it himself? Meanwhile, the history of that fucking cottage was still knotted up so tight inside him, it felt impossible to separate it from everything he’d lost.

Above the roar in his head, there was only one prevailing thought.

I need to go find Julia.

To do what? Fight? Set the record straight? If that was the story she was telling, he felt like he needed to step in and defend himself, not allow her to always paint him as the problem child and her as the savior.

The thought stung. And it made him want to talk to her even more. His grandiose plan began and ended with his desire to seek her out, to see her face. He knew that whatever came out the moment he did, right or wrong, he’d be willing to dealwith. But the first step had to happen—and it had to happennow.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, standing up so fast, his chair screeched as it slid across the floor behind him.

All three people at the table looked up at him from their chocolate cakes, nonplussed.

“I have to, uh…” His mind scrambled for an excuse, since he didn’t want to leave it at an incredibly mawkishI must find Gem!Instead, he fell back on a timeless excuse that no one could refute: “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Six eyes blinked simultaneously. After a beat in which nobody moved a muscle, including Ethan, who was supposedly desperate for a toilet, Maggie hesitantly gestured toward the door. “By all means…?”

Barely offering a curt nod, Ethan took his leave. With long strides, he turned himself in the direction of the stairs leading to the kitchen, taking them two at a time before forcing himself to slow down so he didn’t literally bombard her while she was…tidying up? Having some peaceful quiet time to herself? Reading? Sleeping?

He realized he wasn’t even sure if she had gone to her room. He’d just assumed. Perhaps she’d gone outside. Maybe she’d walked (hobbled?) to the lake for a respite?

All those were valid options, but it felt like the first place he should look would also be the most obvious.

Purposely moderating his pace so as not to come across as a rampaging elephant, he quickly glanced around the kitchen first to see if she was in there.

It was perfectly logical for him not to be able to find her. She could be literally anywhere—it was her home, after all. Still,alarm bells started to go off, and he wondered if maybe she was hurt or in some kind of trouble.

It felt ludicrous—the idea that she, a grown woman, had done something to injure herself in such a short period of time. But it was possible and even likely at times. So he followed his intuition an extra few steps into the hallway, all the way to her bedroom door. Touched it lightly, until it was open more than its initial crack. Cautiously, he peered in. A quick inventory of the room, however—bed, carpet, desk—showed that it was empty.

Contemplating whether he wanted to check outside or upstairs first, Ethan was about to turn around and leave when he heard a clattering sound coming from the bathroom.

He paused, tilting his head closer. Normally, barging in on someone in the bathroom would be his limit. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Moving closer to the bathroom door, just to check, while acknowledging the absurdity of it all, he heard it again—a rhythmic sound, like a repeated gasp, someone breathing in and out in a heavy, rapid pant.

Hyperventilating.

The word came to him swiftly even as he rejected it.It can’t be.Why would it be? He leaned even closer. It was unmistakable now. Quiet gasps. She could be muffling sobs. She could be choking.

Whatever anger or hurt he had felt before melted away from him, disappearing into the floorboards as if it had never been there at all. The only thing that existed for him now was deep-seated concern for whatever the hell was going on with her.

“Ge— Julia?” The sound of his voice, seemingly so loud inthe small room, surprised him almost as much as it was likely surprising her. “Julia?”