“It’s more like me than you think.” He’d been drinking way too much lately, and he knew it. But he had to so something, anything, to numb the pain.

“Come on, pal. Let’s go home and get some sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

Because he couldn’t think of a better plan, Grant allowed his father to propel him to the truck, which was parked on the street.

“I forgot to get the keys to the bike from Chelsea,” Grant muttered as they went past Mac’s motorcycle in the parking lot.

“I got ’em.” Big Mac held the truck’s passenger door for Grant and then walked around the front to the driver’s side.

Grant tipped his head back, hoping he could make it home without puking. That would be the perfect end to a perfect day. When his father reached across him to buckle his seat belt, Grant felt like a total moron. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t no big thing.”

The sound of laughter outside the truck caught their attention.

Big Mac gasped. “What the. . .”

Grant and his father stared at the duo walking past—Ned, arm in arm with a woman, totally oblivious to anyone watching them as they were deep in conversation peppered with frequent laughter. Grant had never seen his father’s best friend looking so animated.

“Is that Maddie’s mother?” Grant whispered, as if they might hear him.

“Sure is. Well, I’ll be damned.”

After Ned and Francine were past the truck, Grant glanced over at his father, who looked like he’d been struck by lightning.

“What’s going on with them?” Grant asked.

“I have no earthly idea.” Big Mac snapped out of his stupor to start the truck. “But let me tell you, if he’s somehow managed to work things out with her, there’s certainly hope for you, boyo.”

The comment struck Grant’s funny bone, and before long, his father joined in. A good laugh with his dad was exactly what Grant needed.

Ned had never been happier than he was during the evening with Francine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The last time he’d been this happy was the last time he’d been with her. She just did it for him, and she always had. It was that simple.

He’d taken her for a fancy dinner at Domenic’s and let her fuss over the prices as he plied her with seafood and wine. Afterward, they came back to town and took a walk along the waterfront. They’d talked about everything—except the one thing Ned most wanted to know. How had Bobby Chester managed to make her forget all about him during the course of one weekend?

He couldn’t exactly blurt out the question over clams and white wine. And after such a wonderful evening, he was terrified of scaring her off by reopening an old wound.