Here on the island, removed from the daily grind of her routine, being alone didn’t feel quite the same as it did in the too-quiet house that had once teamed with activity and the shrieks of children. Sure, her children were present here, too, in the house they’d loved to visit each summer, but it was different. She could breathe here.

Sydney cleaned up the kitchen, poured a second glass of wine and took it to the porch to watch the sun set. Long after the sky went dark and the activity on the pond stilled for the evening, long after she finished her glass of wine and the crickets began to sing, Sydney stayed on the porch, rocking back and forth as Buddy slept at her feet.

She told herself she wasn’t waiting for Luke. He hadn’t made any promises about coming back. They’d said everything they needed to say the night before. What was left to say?

Just as she was about to head inside, she heard the unmistakable sound of his boat scraping against the beach. A smile tugged at her lips, and her heart began to beat fast with anticipation. He’d come back.

Chapter 3

All day, Luke had vowed to stay away. After their conversation the night before, he had the closure he’d longed for. He had the satisfaction of her apology, of knowing she’d suffered over what she had done to him, that she hadn’t left him behind and never thought of him again while she moved forward with another man. What more was there to say?

Apparently, a lot, he thought, laughing softly to himself as he pulled the boat onto the beach, announcing his arrival to her. Would she be waiting? When she asked him to come back, had she meant the very next night? Those were the questions that had tormented him all day as he went about his work at the marina, guiding boats, collecting payment and shooting the shit with Mac, his father, “Big Mac” McCarthy, and the other old men who hung out on the docks. Just another busy summer Sunday at McCarthy’s.

At midday, Mac had asked him if everything was okay.

Taken aback by the question, Luke had nodded, surprised to realize Mac had picked up on the disquiet that had overtaken him. Not that Luke was ever one to run on at the mouth, but Mac said he seemed distracted.

That was one way of putting it. Yes, he’d been distracted by thoughts of freckles dancing across a sunburned nose, the light timbre of her voice, the laughter he’d missed so much and the feel of her hand in his, her fragile bones and pale skin such a sharp contrast to his much larger hand.