“Fuck, angel.” Roane let go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me into his side. He kissed my temple as I curled my arm around his waist. “You deserve so much better than that shit.”

“Well, in between those three relationships there was a lot of first and second dates, a few third dates, and not much else beyond that. When I hit thirty, most of my friends were in love, married, and some were even popping out kids. I was exhausted and I took a break for a couple of years until Greer convinced me to get back on the horse. That led to Aaron, the online guy, and my renewed sense of ‘this might not happen for me.’” I squeezed his waist. “Then I came here.”

His hold on me tightened as we strolled, and as I thought about my dating life over the years, I realized that I’d never actually believed I’d meet the love of my life. Deep down, I thought it was a fairy tale that other people got to live.

It made me breathless to realize I’d been wrong.

I found him.

I found my one.

As I sighed happily, my gaze wandered across the water and the beach ahead, and I thought how lucky I was that I found my person in beautiful England.

As my eyes caressed the water and followed the gentle ripples back to shore, I saw two figures ahead of us.

Something about them caught my attention.

Perhaps it was the way the tall male figure was looming over the small feminine one . . . or perhaps it was because there was something familiar about them. As we drew closer, the woman gestured dramatically with her hands, and the guy bent his head to her, his lips almost brushing hers as he responded.

“Evie, I need to tell—”

“Is that Viola?” I cut Roane off, squinting at the couple. Realization dawned. “And Lucas?”

“What?” Roane snapped his head forward and narrowed his gaze. He tensed against me. “Aye, it is.”

“Maybe we should stop.” The words had barely left my mouth when Viola began striding away from Lucas toward us. Lucas watched her go, but I couldn’t see his expression clearly from this far away.

Viola, however, didn’t react to the sight of us. Her features were tight with pain, and suddenly I felt like an ass for pushing those two together. She drew to a halt in front of us. Without preamble she said, “I didn’t bring my car. Can I get a lift from you?”

“Of course,” Roane replied. “You okay?”

“Can we not talk about it? Ever.”

We nodded solemnly and turned around to walk back the way we came. The walk was silent and tense, the atmosphere staying that way until we parked at the bookstore and watched Viola walk up toward the pub.

I turned to Roane, contrite. “Maybe I fucked up.”