Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Praise For Fiona Lowe
- Join My Newsletter
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Also by Fiona Lowe
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Book Club Questions
Libby didn’t understand. They’d taken the girls out on Freedom plenty of times when they were babies. “But you just said it’s a divine evening and smooth sailing. We’ll stick Leo in a lifejacket and put the girls’ old harness on him. He’ll be fine.”
Nick’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, read the text, then swore. “Looks like it’s a moot point anyway. I have to go back to work.”
Libby didn’t ask why—she didn’t need to. Whatever the minute details, the big picture was always the same: it involved a tourist. It was a common occurrence for them both in January. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
He nodded, gave her a distracted kiss and grabbed his keys.
“Nick.”
“Yeah?”
“The next perfect sailing Wednesday, I promise it’s a family date. Or better yet, we can get Alice or Jess to mind the girls and go to Bunga Arm alone.”
“Sure.”
But the light in his eyes had extinguished and Libby got a sense of having literally missed the boat.
Chapter Two
Jess filled Libby’s wine glass. “Here’s to my favorite time of day: when our children are fast asleep.”
Libby clinked her glass against Jess’s. “Amen to that but don’t get too comfortable. The kitchen’s a disaster.”
Jess sat back on Libby’s generously wide couch, settling comfortably into her usual spot with Monty the Jack Russell curled up next to her. She’d cooked the barbecue and made the salads so the last thing she wanted to do was rouse herself to do the dishes. “Won’t Nick weave his usual magic when he gets back, you spoilt and pampered woman?”
Libby rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I never wash up.”
“I don’t see you do it very often.”
“That’s because whenever you’re over Nick treats us.”
“Well, I’m over, so problem solved.”
“He got called back to work tonight so it’s not fair to expect him to do the dishes.”
Jess wasn’t certain Libby really knew all that much about fair. “Work? You’re always saying Nick gets paid to do what he loves most, which is mucking about in boats. It’s us who’ve been wrangling hot and tired kids.”
“And Nick’s dealing with a disgruntled customer who can easily have a tanty on TripAdvisor. Those sorts of reviews hurt the business.”