Wednesday morning arrived with a package on the front porch. Sierra brought it inside while I was still drinking coffee, setting the box on the kitchen table like an offering.
"It's from the brand," she said. "They work fast."
I stared at the box. Brown cardboard, shipping label, nothing remarkable. But inside was the first product Andie would review. The first full presence post.
"Open it," Sierra encouraged.
I pulled the tape, opened the flaps, and reached inside. Tissue paper. And beneath it, fabric.
A dress.
Not a casual sundress like I'd worn before. Something more intentional. Forest green, long sleeves, a modest neckline. The fabric felt substantial—good quality, not the thin material of cheaper clothes.
"There's more," Sierra said, pointing to the box.
I reached in again. A belt, brown leather. A pair of tights, opaque and warm. A small pouch containing simple jewelry—stud earrings, a delicate chain necklace.
"The whole outfit," I said.
"The whole outfit," Sierra confirmed. "They want to see how you style it."
I held the dress up against my body. Forest green. My color, Sierra had said once. The fabric draped nicely, even just hanging there.
"When do they need the post?"
"Two weeks. Enough time to plan, shoot, edit." She took the dress from me, hung it on a hook near the door. "We'll do it right. Make it yours."
I spent the morning studying, but my focus kept drifting to the green dress hanging in the kitchen. My first full post. My face, visible. Andie, fully seen.
At noon, I drove to Silver Shores for my shift. The tennis courts were quiet—just one reservation in the afternoon. I settled into the attendant stand with my textbook.
Kelly appeared around one, towel over his shoulder, sunglasses pushed into his hair.
"Break," he announced. "Come walk with me?"
I checked the court schedule. Nothing until two. "Sure."
We walked along the path behind the courts, away from the clubhouse. Trees shaded the trail, blocking the midday sun.
"The brand sent products," I said. "A dress. Full outfit."
Kelly glanced at me. "Full as in..."
"Full as in full. Face, everything. They want to see Andie."
He was quiet for a moment. "How do you feel about that?"
"Ready. Nervous. Ready-nervous." I laughed at myself. "Sierra will help. She knows how to make things look good."
"That's not what I asked."
I knew what he was asking. Full presence meant no hiding. Andie visible to anyone who saw the post.
"I want to try," I said. "If it doesn't work, we adjust. But I want to try."
Kelly reached for my hand. "Then try. I'll be here."
We walked in comfortable silence, his hand warm in mine.
"You could come to the shoot," I said. "If you want. Sierra wouldn't mind."
Kelly considered this. "You want me there?"
"I think I do. It might help. Having someone else who knows."
"Then I'll be there. Just tell me when."
We returned to the courts. Kelly went back to the pool. I studied until my shift ended, the green dress waiting in my mind.
That evening, Sierra and I planned the shoot. Location, lighting, angles, timing. We'd use the backyard in late afternoon, when the light was soft. The garden gazebo as a backdrop. Natural, elegant, fitting the dress.
"Andie's hair?" Sierra asked.
"Down, I think. Simple."
"Makeup?"
"Natural. Like the video call."
Sierra nodded, making notes. "We'll do test shots first. Make sure everything works before the real shoot."
I agreed. The planning helped. Made it feel manageable.
Thursday afternoon, I tried on the dress for the first time. Sierra zipped me up, stepped back, and examined.
"The belt needs to sit higher," she said. "And the tights should be seamless."
I looked in the mirror. Forest green fabric falling past my knees. Long sleeves gathered at the wrists. The belt cinched at my waist, creating shape. Simple jewelry—the stud earrings, the delicate chain.
Lennox in a dress. Andie is looking back.
"Good?" I asked.
"Good," Sierra confirmed. "But we need to practice movement. Dresses move differently from skirts."
She had me walk, turn, sit, and stand. How to climb stairs without stepping on the hem. How to bend without straining the fabric. Small things I hadn't considered.
By the end of the session, I felt more comfortable. The dress was just clothes. Nice clothes, but still just clothes.
Kelly texted that evening: 'Shoot tomorrow?'
'Yes. Afternoon. Still want to come?'
'Wouldn't miss it. Want me to bring anything?'
'Just yourself.'
'Then I'll be there.'
Friday arrived with perfect weather. Sun, light clouds, soft breeze. Sierra set up in the backyard while I prepared. Makeup natural, hair down, jewelry in place. The dress fit like it had been made for me.
Kelly arrived at three. He stood near the gazebo, watching Sierra adjust lights and angles.
"You look good," he said when I walked out.
"Thanks." I touched my necklace nervously. "I feel good."
"Then that's what matters."
We shot for two hours. Sierra directed, I posed, Kelly watched from a chair. The gazebo, the garden path, the bench near the flowers. Standing, sitting, walking, turning. The dress moved with me, fabric catching the light.
"One more," Sierra said near the end. "By the oak tree. Kelly, can you stand behind the camera? Just for presence."
Kelly moved behind the camera. I stood by the oak tree, hands at my sides.
"Look at him," Sierra said. "Not at the lens."
I looked at Kelly. His face behind the camera, watching me. Not judging. Just present.
Sierra clicked. "Perfect. That's the one."
When we finished, I changed out of the dress carefully, hanging it on a padded hanger. Kelly waited in the living room.
"That was..." he started, then paused.
"What?"
"Beautiful. Watching you like that. Comfortable. Yourself." He shook his head. "I don't have the words."
"You don't need words."
I sat next to him, let him hold my hand. The shoot was done. The photos were good. Andie existed outside my head, captured in light and fabric.
Sierra came inside, phone in hand. "I already sent selects to the brand. They responded."
I blinked. "Already?"
"They loved them. Especially the oak tree shot." She smiled. "You're a natural, Lennox."
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The green dress hung in the closet. The photos were edited, approved, scheduled for posting. Andie would be seen.
My phone buzzed. Kelly: 'Today was something special. You're something special. Goodnight, boyfriend.'
I typed back: 'Goodnight. Thank you for being there.'
'Always.'
I set down the phone, closed my eyes. The ceiling watched over me, blank and patient. Tomorrow, the post would go live. Tomorrow, Andie would be visible.
Tonight, I rested.
Saturday morning arrived with notifications. Sierra's phone buzzed constantly on the kitchen counter—likes, comments, shares from the Andie post. My own phone stayed quiet. I hadn't checked the post yet. Wasn't sure I was ready.
"Over ten thousand likes already," Sierra announced, scrolling through her phone. "Comments are positive. Overwhelmingly positive."
I poured coffee, tried to act casual. "That's good."
"That's incredible, Lennox. This is your first full post. Your face, visible. People are responding."
She handed me her phone. I looked at the screen. The oak tree photo—me looking at Kelly behind the camera, soft light filtering through leaves. Forest green dress, simple jewelry, hair loose. Andie looking back at me from the screen.
The comments blurred together. 'Beautiful dress.' 'Love this look.' 'Who is Andie?' 'Stunning.' 'More content like this please.'
No negative comments. At least, none that Sierra showed me.
"See?" she said. "People want you. Not just products. You."
I set down the phone. "I need to study."
Sierra didn't push. She knew me well enough to let me process.
I drove to the library, found my usual table, opened my textbook. The words didn't register. My mind kept returning to the comments. 'Beautiful.' 'Stunning.' Words that had never described Lennox. But Andie? Apparently.
My phone buzzed. Kelly: 'Saw the post. You look incredible. How are you feeling?'
I typed back: 'Overwhelmed. Good overwhelmed, I think.'
'Want company?'
'Can't. Studying. Or trying to.'
'Then I'll leave you to it. But I'm proud of you. Text me when you're done.'
I set down the phone and forced myself to focus. Respiratory medications. Dosage calculations. Patient assessment. The words finally stuck.
At noon, I packed up and drove to Silver Shores. My shift started at one. I wanted to see Kelly first.
I found him at the pool, sitting in his lifeguard chair. He spotted me, waved, pointed to the clock. Twenty minutes until his break. I nodded and found a table near the snack bar.
Kelly appeared twenty minutes later, towel over his shoulder.
"You came," he said.
"I wanted to see you."
He sat across from me. "How's the studying?"
"Fine. How's the pool?"
"Quiet. Too hot for tennis, I guess. Everyone's swimming."
We sat in comfortable silence. The snack bar buzzed around us—kids ordering ice cream, parents herding toddlers.
"Can I ask you something?" Kelly said.
"Sure."
"The post. Your face being visible. Does that change anything? For us?"
I thought about it. "I don't think so. People already know Andie is Sierra's niece. They don't know Andie is also Lennox. That's still ours."
Kelly nodded slowly. "And if someone figures it out? Someone from the club, maybe?"
"I don't know." I looked at him. "Would that bother you?"
He reached across the table, took my hand. "Nothing about you bothers me, Lennox. I just want to know how to support you."
I squeezed his hand. "Then just keep being you. That's enough."
His break ended. He kissed my forehead and returned to the pool. I walked to the tennis courts for my shift.
The afternoon passed quietly. A few reservations, lots of studying. Around four, Tara stopped by.
"Saw the post," she said. "The green dress one."
I tensed. "Oh?"
"You look good. Sierra knows what she's doing." She leaned against the counter. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just keep being good at your job." She smiled and walked away.
That evening, Sierra and I made dinner together. She asked about my day, about Kelly, and about studying. Normal conversation. But I could tell she was waiting for something.
"What?" I finally asked.
"Nothing. Just... are you okay? With the post, the attention, all of it?"
I stirred the vegetables in the pan. "I think so. It's strange, people seeing Andie and responding positively. I didn't expect that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm still figuring out who Andie is. If other people see something I don't, that's... a lot."
Sierra touched my shoulder. "Other people see what you show them. You showed them someone comfortable in her own skin. That's what they responded to."
Her words settled somewhere in my chest.
After dinner, I sat on the back porch, watching fireflies. My phone buzzed. Kelly: 'Goodnight, boyfriend. Today was a good day. You made it good.'
I typed back: 'You too. Goodnight.'
The fireflies blinked in the darkness. The green dress hung in my closet. The post had thousands of likes. People thought Andie was beautiful.
For once, I let myself believe them.
Sunday morning brought a different kind of notification. Sierra shook me awake before eight, her phone in hand, expression unreadable.
"Get up. You need to see this."
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "What is it?"
She handed me the phone. A message from Diana at the brand. Not an email. A text, sent late Saturday night.
'Andie, the post exceeded all expectations. Engagement is up 300% from our average. We'd like to discuss extending the collaboration. Six months instead of three. More products, more posts, more creative freedom. Call me Monday.'
I read the message twice. Then a third time.
"Six months," I said.
"Six months," Sierra confirmed. "That takes us through the end of the year. Past summer. Past when you were supposed to leave."
Leave. The word hung in the air. My plan had always been to return to Chicago after passing the boards. Find a job. Start my life. But Cedar Cove had become something I hadn't expected.
"I don't know what to say."
Sierra sat on the edge of my bed. "You don't have to decide anything today. But you should think about what you want. Not what you planned. What you actually want."
I spent the morning thinking. Kelly texted around ten: 'Coffee? My place?'
I drove to his apartment, still processing. He opened the door with two mugs already poured.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said.
"The brand wants to extend the collaboration. Six months."
Kelly handed me a mug. "That's good, right?"
"It means staying here. Past summer. Past when I was supposed to leave." I sat on his couch. "I don't know if I can do that."
"Why not?"
"Because my life is in Chicago. Or it was supposed to be."
Kelly sat next to me. "Lennox, your life is wherever you are. Right now, you're here. You have a job, a boyfriend, a growing presence as Andie. Chicago is a plan. This is real."
I let his words settle. Chicago was a plan. But plans could change.
"I need to think," I said.
"Then think. I'm not going anywhere."
We drank coffee in comfortable silence. After a while, Kelly put on music—something quiet with pianos. I leaned against him, let myself just be.
Around noon, I drove home. Sierra was in the living room, sorting through product boxes.
"Any decision?" she asked.
"Not yet. But I'm thinking about what you said. What I actually want."
She nodded. "That's all I ask."
Monday morning, I called Diana. Sierra sat next to me, ready to chime in if needed.
"Andie! So glad you called." Diana's voice held genuine warmth. "Have you considered the extension?"
"I have. I have questions first."
"Of course."
We talked for twenty minutes. Creative control, compensation, timeline. Diana answered everything directly, no evasions. The brand wanted Andie, not just a product spokesperson. They were willing to give her space to grow.
"I'll send over the new contract today," Diana said. "Take your time reviewing it. No pressure."
When I hung up, Sierra was smiling.
"You handled that like a professional."
"I'm learning from the best."
The contract arrived that afternoon. I read it carefully, then read it again. Six months. Ten posts. More money than I'd made in my entire life.
I texted Kelly: 'They sent the contract. Six months. I'm scared.'
His response came fast: 'Scared is normal. What does your gut say?'
I thought about it. My gut said yes. My head said yes. Only my fear said no.
'My gut says yes.'
'Then trust it. You've made it this far.'
That evening, I signed the contract. Sierra witnessed again. The document went back to Diana within the hour.
I sat on the back porch, watching the sun set. My phone buzzed. Kelly: 'Signed?'
'Signed.'
'Proud of you. Celebrate this weekend? Just us?'
'Yes. Please.'
The sky turned orange, then purple, then dark. The first stars appeared. Six months. Cedar Cove. Andie. Kelly.
My plan had changed. But maybe that was okay.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. No answers tonight. Just acceptance. The ceiling didn't need to hold answers. It just needed to be there while I figured things out.
My phone buzzed one last time. Kelly: 'Goodnight, boyfriend. Six months. I'm glad you're staying.'
I typed back: 'Me too. Goodnight.'
I set down the phone and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New posts. New questions. But tonight, I rested. I had earned it.