She’d clicked on article after article, and when she’d finally shut down, hours later, her cheeks had been wet from all the tears she’d shed.

He’d told her he wasn’t afraid of emotion, and that was backed up by everything she’d read. His writing was full of emotion. He didn’t just report the facts, he reported the effect on those who were suffering until the reader ceased to be an outside observer and slid into the story. She’d felt the heat, tasted the dust, cried with the mother who had lost a child to a roadside bomb. And she’d read the reports written by others on the accident that had wounded him and killed his friend. And they were glowing reports. As a journalist he’d been respected both by his own profession and the military.

The explosion had been global news.

Exhausted, she’d taken herself to bed and lain awake for hours, thinking about how hard his recovery must have been. Clues to just how hard had been in everything he hadn’t said.

But he’d built a new life. The life he and his friend had planned together.

And that life didn’t include children. It was a responsibility he’d made it clear he didn’t want.

He’d helped her because he owed Brittany. There was nothing more to it than that, and she wasn’t going to do that horribly needy thing of looking for more. A few steamy kisses didn’t mean anything to a man like him. Even without knowing his background, there was a raw physicality to him that told her that a simple sexual relationship was familiar territory to him. And no doubt none of those relationships had included sex with the lights out.

She needed to move on.

Pushing it out of her mind, she dragged herself back to the present.

“How about ice cream?” Trying to do something that would reduce the likelihood of bumping into Ryan, she made an alternative suggestion. “Let’s go to Summer Scoop.”

Visiting the shop had become a routine, and not just because Lizzy loved the ice cream. Emily was keen to support the struggling business. She liked Lisa and sympathized with her situation.

“Chocolate is still my favorite.” Five minutes later Lizzy was licking her cone, the ice cream sliding down her chin. “Can we live in a place that sells ice cream?”

Lisa handed her a napkin. “It’s not the dream it seems, sugar.”

Because it was Saturday, both the twins were hovering. They alternated between “helping” in the store and reading, playing or watching a DVD in the little cottage attached to the business premises while Lisa supervised through an open door.

Knowing how hard it was to keep Lizzy entertained, Emily wondered how she managed it. “It must be hard work.”