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Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR Her Last Holiday
  3. PRAISE FOR C.L. TAYLOR
  4. See what readers are saying about Her Last Holiday …
  5. See what bloggers are saying about C.L. TAYLOR …
  6. Dedication
  7. Chapter 1
  8. Chapter 2
  9. Chapter 3
  10. Chapter 4
  11. Chapter 5
  12. Chapter 6
  13. Chapter 7
  14. Chapter 8
  15. Chapter 9
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Chapter 12
  19. Chapter 13
  20. Chapter 14
  21. Chapter 15
  22. Chapter 16
  23. Chapter 17
  24. Chapter 18
  25. Chapter 19
  26. Chapter 20
  27. Chapter 21
  28. Chapter 22
  29. Chapter 23
  30. Chapter 24
  31. Chapter 25
  32. Chapter 26
  33. Chapter 27
  34. Chapter 28
  35. Chapter 29
  36. Chapter 30
  37. Chapter 31
  38. Chapter 32
  39. Chapter 33
  40. Chapter 34
  41. Chapter 35
  42. Chapter 36
  43. Chapter 37
  44. Chapter 38
  45. Chapter 39
  46. Chapter 40
  47. Chapter 41
  48. Chapter 42
  49. Chapter 43
  50. Chapter 44
  51. Chapter 45
  52. Chapter 46
  53. Chapter 47
  54. Chapter 48
  55. Chapter 49
  56. Chapter 50
  57. Chapter 51
  58. Chapter 52
  59. Chapter 53
  60. Chapter 54
  61. Chapter 55
  62. Chapter 56
  63. Acknowledgements
  64. Her Last Holiday Book Club Questions
  65. Keep Reading …
  66. About the Author
  67. By the same author:
  68. About the Publisher

Now, Kate takes another sip of wine. 215,000 followers. Two years ago, Tom had nearer 600,000. But 215,000 is still a huge number. For whatever reason, those people chose not to unfollow him. Some probably follow so many people they’ve forgotten all about SoulShrink. Others might have inactive accounts. But some of them will want to hear from Tom again – certainly the ones who tried to balance out the slew of hateful tweets with compassion and understanding. She opens a new tab in her browser and types, ‘Tom Wade released from prison’ into Google. Dozens of news articles fill the page but Kate doesn’t read them. Instead she clicks on the ‘Images’ link and scans through the pictures. She spots one of her, looking focused and pale, leaning over the steering wheel of her car. Another of her and Tom sprinting across the car park towards each other, arms spread wide. It’s a powerful image, but it’s not right. She continues to scroll through the photographs then lifts her finger from the mouse wheel as a close up of Tom appears on the screen. It’s from when they were hugging; she can see strands of her straight dark hair behind his head. But that’s not what caught her attention. It’s Tom’s face, crumpled with emotion, his eyes screwed shut. She clicks on the image, to see a larger version, and that’s when she sees the tear. One single tear, rolling down his cheek.