Fear, that was what she felt. Sharp and distinct, something about this was making her want to run, making her wish she was anywhere else but right here, right now. He was waiting for her to say yes, but her mouth felt like paste. Her head was a confusing swirl of pressure. He was looking at her, waiting—and she was taking too long to answer. She could see the slight shift in his expression, the way he held the box before her was flagging. This wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting. This wasn’t exactly how he imagined she’d respond.

She wasn’t ready for this.

But she was going to lose him.

“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Chapter 13

Eileen

The cold woke her up. Frigid air chilled her bare skin, raised goose bumps across her arms and back. The cold, and the sound of a fan? No, was it water? Not steady like from their faucet, a rhythmic rush that came and went. She felt for the blankets with her feet, expecting them to be at the bottom of their bed, but all her toes found was more cold mattress.

“Eric?” she asked, rolling over and dragging open scratchy lids against her dry eyes. She reached for him with her hand. More cold, empty mattress.

This wasn’t their bedroom.

Eileen propped herself up sideways on her elbow and tried to focus her eyes on the bright white– and soft gray–colored room. One by one, the horrible realizations returned to her. This was Clare’s spare bedroom she was sleeping in—alone. The dread and hurt she had managed to escape while asleep came sweeping back like a tidal wave. She let herself fall back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling over her head.

It hurt to breathe.

She rolled onto her side and scanned the wood floor; all the blankets and top sheet were in a heap next to the bed. She must have kicked them off in the middle of the night. She leaned over the edge and grabbed hold, pulling the cold, downy pile back up and around her shoulders as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She’d left the sliding doors to the deck open last night. That was why the room was so cold this morning. The rushing water was the crash of the ocean against the cliffs below her room.

The light drew her eye, the soft, pale blue of the clear early morning sky stretching out over the Pacific. Eileen forced a deep lungful of the salt air in and stood up. With the down comforter as her robe, she grabbed a pair of socks from the tumble of clothes spilling out of her open suitcase on the floor and her camera.