The sunset painted the white walls honey-gold. I stood on my toes, hanging a "Closed" sign on the café's glass door. Sea breeze slipped through, lifting strands of my hair, now long and loosely pinned up, baring my neck.
"Blueberry cheesecake sold out," Oliver called from the kitchen, flour dusting his golden hair. "That lady said it's the best dessert she's had in Shaloria."
I smiled faintly, settling at a window table where an unfinished painting waited—sea blues and whites blending, but something was missing.
"Spacing out again?" Oliver wrapped his arms around me from behind, smelling of cinnamon and coffee. He tapped the canvas. "Needs a boat."
"A boat?"
"Yup, one carrying runaway lovers." His blue eyes sparkled in the dusk. "Like us."
I elbowed him lightly, but he caught my wris
