Page 21 of Widow’s Walk

Sully’s jaw tightened as he watched Mason slide the papers into his leather portfolio.

“Well,” Mason said, turning to Amy with that same over-the-top smile. “I’d better get going. My team will be in touch to coordinate the next steps. And if you need anything—anything—don’t hesitate to reach out. Nice meeting you, Sully.”

Sully didn’t respond. He kept his gaze steady until Mason finally turned and left. The starting of his SUV’s engine broke the silence, and Sully turned back to the window, watching as it disappeared down the driveway.

Amy let out a long sigh, sinking into her chair. “Well,” she said softly. “That’s done.”

Sully said nothing at first. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, his gaze focused on the empty driveway. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm. “I hope this works out the way you want it to.”

Amy looked up at him with wide, ice-blue eyes and full lips. His mind immediately went to the taste of those lips. “Me too,” she replied.

“Okay then,” Sully said simply. He turned toward the door, pausing for a moment before adding, “Let me know when they’re going to show up. I’ll make sure we’re ready.”

He walked out of the office without another word.

Amy strolled across the lawn, Ollie trotted ahead with his little white tail wagging as he sniffed at tufts of grass. The afternoon sun caught on the intricate woodwork of the eaves and the cracked panes of the upper windows and spilled golden light over the mansion’s crumbling façade. The building’s shadows stretched long across the yard like a sleeping giant’s.

She tugged her cardigan tighter around herself against the salty breeze. Ollie barked, startling her from her thoughts. “It’s just the wind,” she murmured, though her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

The silence on the grounds felt heavier than usual, as if the house itself had absorbed their tension. A deep pull, like a subconscious desire to be close to the mansion, was subtly pulsing in the background of her mind.

Mason Stark’s visit left behind an unsettling mix of relief and regret. She’d made the decision, it was done. The contract was signed, so the TV crew would be coming.

But the quiet that followed gave her too much space to think.

Amy glanced back at the mansion. The widow’s walk perched at the top like a crown, rusted and weathered by time. She could almost hear Truman Costigan’s voice, that deep, steady encouragement he’d always offered. “You’ll make it work, Amy. You’ll find a way.”

But would she?

Her chest tightened as the familiar doubts crept in, uninvited but relentless. She again told herself this time would be different. This project wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t the same impulsive dreamer who’d maxed out her credit cards trying to open a boutique in Portland, or the one who’d sunk her savings into a short-lived art gallery that never made it past its first winter.

The memories of those failures clung to her like old scars. She could feel them now, sharp and raw, whispering that she was doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

Ollie barked again, darting toward the shadow of the house. Her gaze drifted upward, toward the second floor, and she froze.

There, framed by one of the tall, grimy windows, stood Sully.

He was leaning slightly against the windowpane, his broad shoulders and square jaw unmistakable even in the dim light of the interior. His work shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and his hair was mussed, as though he’d been running his hands through it all day. For a moment, she thought he might wave or call down to her, but instead, he just… stood there, watching.

Amy couldn’t read his expression from this distance, but his presence was enough to make her heart skip.

Apparently realizing she’d seen him, Sully stepped back from the window and disappeared into the shadows of the room beyond.

Amy stared at the empty space where he’d been.

What was he thinking? She wondered. About the kiss? About the contract? Does he think I’ve completely lost my mind?

Amy sighed, her steps slowing as Ollie darted ahead. The men she’d dated always seemed to start the same way: exciting, full of promise, a spark of something real. But it never lasted. Her last boyfriend had been charming but unreliable, his easy smiles masking a lack of commitment that left her feeling hollow. Before him, there’d been the artist who claimed to “admire her ambition” but couldn’t handle being with someone who wanted more than he did.

And now… she had admitted to herself she was attracted to Sully.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of him. They hadn’t spoken about the kiss. Neither of them had brought it up, and maybe that was for the best.

It had been a moment of weakness. Hers, not his. He was practical, steady, and annoyingly blunt. She didn’t doubt for a second that if she let herself get swept up in whatever strange pull lay between them, it would end in disaster. Just like it always did.

She couldn’t afford another disaster. Not now, with all that was at risk.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to keep walking.