An image of Rebecca, very pregnant now, out at her family’s cabin, flashed across the screen in his mind. His son was growing inside her. He would be here soon. Despite this desk job, despite the long commute, despite the fact that he was gone all day five days a week, the past month was about the happiest they had ever been together.

What was Becca going to think about this?

“Luke?” Don said.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. I want it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

6:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

Queen Anne’s County, Maryland—Eastern Shore of Chesapeake Bay

“You look beautiful,” Luke said.

He had just arrived. He had ripped off his shirt and tie and changed into jeans and a T-shirt as soon as he walked in the door. Now he had a can of beer in his hand. The beer was ice cold and delicious.

The traffic was insane. It was a ninety-minute drive from DC, through Annapolis, across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and on to the Eastern Shore. But none of that mattered because he was home now.

He and Becca were staying at her family’s cabin in Queen Anne’s County. The cabin was an ancient, rustic place sitting on a small bluff right above the bay. It was two floors, wooden everything, with creaks and squeaks everywhere you stepped. There was a screened-in porch facing the water and a kitchen door that slammed shut with enthusiasm.

The living room furniture was generations old. The beds were old metal skeletons on springs; the bed in the master bedroom was almost long enough, but not quite, for Luke to sleep comfortably on it. By far the sturdiest thing in the house was the stone fireplace in the living room. It was almost as if the grand old fireplace had been there already, and someone with a sense of humor had built a clapboard shack all around it.

To hear tell of it, the house had been in the family for a hundred years. Some of Becca’s earliest memories happened in that house.

It really was a beautiful place. Luke loved it there.

They were sitting on the back patio, enjoying the late afternoon as the sun slowly went west over the vast sweep of water. It was a breezy day, and white sails were everywhere out there. Luke almost wished that time would stop and he could just sit right in this spot forever. The setting was amazing, and Becca did look beautiful. Luke wasn’t lying about that.

She was pretty as ever, and almost as petite. Their son was a basketball she was smuggling under her shirt. She had spent part of the afternoon digging a bit in her garden, and she was a little bit sweaty and flushed. She wore a big floppy sun hat and was drinking a big glass of ice water.

She smiled. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

A long pause drew out between them.