His visits were always light, friendly, supportive and without pressure. His emails were the same, but they always included news about the land he loves here. The animals he owns, the local people, and over time, I longed to be here with him.

I wanted to walk the verdant landscape with him. To ride a horse across the fields. To see the mountains in the distance.

Once my time in the rehab center was up, I had a choice to make. Go back to work. Take a sabbatical and go stay with my parents at their country estate. Or … come here, to be with Samuel.

It was a no-brainer.

Montana called to me, and so I booked my ticket and flew out the day after I left the clinic.

You might say I’ve fallen in love twice now. Once with a man, and once with a place.

“You okay?” he says as he pulls the horse to a walk and then a stop, sliding off her in a practiced way that speaks of many hours in the saddle.

“Got some news,” I say.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Lexy has been charged with fraud and harassment in France, and she’s agreed to a stay in a psychiatric facility. Nine months to be exact, instead of two years prison time.”

“How do you feel about that?” he asks.

“I’m glad she’s getting help and glad it’s over. I feel as if now, I can really focus on the future.”

He takes my hand in his as we walk toward the house, the horse clip-clopping behind us.

“Listen, are you going to make up with Marcus?” I ask him.

“We aren’t kids, Carolina. He fucked up, and I know he did. Not sure what you mean by make up with him.”

“I need you to call him,” I say.

He pauses walking and frowns at me. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jade.” I sigh. My friend had been having a lot of problems with an ex of hers. But it seemed to die down, and we both believed he’d moved on. I heard he had a new girlfriend and his harassment of Jade stopped. She came to see me a few times during my rehab, and we were both relieved that she was free of his crap.

“What about her?” Sam asks.

“She left for work a week ago, and there were flowers on the bonnet of her car just like before. More the next day. Then some at her work, on her desk. Yesterday, she got home, and she says she is sure her ex has been in her flat. The whole place stank of his aftershave.”

“Holy shit,” Sam says.

“Yeah. Holy shit, indeed. So … do you think you can call Marcus? She wants a bodyguard, and I think he’d be the perfect person to look after her.”