“Then don’t date. Just have fun. You’re in Hawaii, for heaven’s sake!”

“I’m fine. Having fun.”

“Okay then,” Anne says, relenting. “Just promise me you’re not sitting around the hotel room by yourself, because I’ll feel terrible then.”

“I’m not sitting around my room.”

“And you’re going to go out? Do things?”

“I’ll do things.”

“And take pictures? Because I want to see all the photos when you get back.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be such a mom.”

“I am a mom.”

I know. So am I. And maybe this is the problem.

Chapter Four

Four

After saying good-bye to Anne, I make that call to Daniel, and he doesn’t answer, and I go to voice mail. I leave a brief message, letting him know I’ve arrived safely and to give the kids my love. I don’t mention that Anne hasn’t come. I don’t know why. Is it because I don’t want him to worry—or I don’t want his censure? Even though we’ve been divorced a year, I still feel the bonds of marriage—responsibility—duty. I still hear his voice in my head, still anticipate his criticism and disappointment.

Isn’t that sad? He was my husband for nearly twelve years, in my life for fifteen, and all I can feel is failure.

Failure.

It doesn’t matter that I did my best, tried so hard, nurtured us. It doesn’t matter, when the divorce negates everything we were… everything we believed.

I don’t like the restlessness inside me, don’t want to be alone with thoughts like these, so I shower, change, blow-dry my hair, and dress in a slim black skirt and a simple black blouse that ties at my waist. I apply a little makeup, add gold bangles to my wrist, then leave my room in search of a glass of wine and maybe dinner.

The concierge sends me to the hotel’s restaurant, an elegant dining room fronting the ocean, and I’m seated just as the sun begins to set.

Catamarans pull from the shore and surfers walk away from the beach, boards on their shoulders and heads, even as the fading sun streaks the horizon purple and reddish gold.

I see a couple standing on the beach, arms around each other, watching the sunset. Their heads are tipped close together, and as the sun sinks, disappearing into the sea, he turns and kisses her. I feel a pang—deep, sharp, hard. What did I do wrong? Where did I lose Daniel?

Blinking back tears, I smile up at the waiter as my first course is served.

“Having a good time?” he asks, putting the crab cakes in front of me.

I nod, reach up, wipe away a tear. “Yes.”

“Beautiful sunset.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

I shake my head. “No. This is perfect.”