“Nothing says you have to move back to Boston. There are jobs up there, aren’t there? You could get a fresh start, and you have a house. Obviously I’d miss my free babysitter, but you weren’t available much anyway, and you’re only three hours away.”

Her ears rang. She wanted to chuck her phone across the room and watch it shatter against the stone fireplace, and she wanted Anna Maria to continue putting into words the idea she’d been tiptoeing around for weeks.

“You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Looked like you froze.”

“I—” She broke off. “I have to go.”

She hung up and stared at the living room walls. Half of her felt even more confused than she had in months, while the other half felt closer to clarity than she had in years.

The clarity scared her a hell of a lot more.

Could she actually stay here? Was that crazy? Or was she so out of touch with normality that she couldn’t tell the difference? She tried to picture it: living in her father’s house—her house—year-round. Mulled wine by the fire in the winter. Sailing in the summer. Her new friends.

Morgan.

And if things don’t work out with Morgan? she asked herself. Then you lose those new friends and you’re back to square one.

Except that wasn’t entirely true. She could always sell the house later, and what did she have waiting for her back in Boston besides family anyway? The wildflowers she’d picked earlier that day stood in a vase on the coffee table, glinting as they caught the sunlight.

Could this still be a place where she could be happy even if things fell through with Morgan?

•   •   •

Does she know you’re in love with her?

Shannon Donovan could have dropped a live grenade in her daughter’s bedroom and had less impact than that sentence.

Once upon a time, falling in love had felt like discovering magic. Now it felt like a boulder sealing the mouth of her tomb. It had happened again: she’d fallen for someone who wouldn’t stick around. Yes, she told herself she had known that was a risk. That didn’t diminish the urge to point her boat straight out to sea and stop only when she ran out of gas or reached a distant shore. She couldn’t go through another heartbreak. Not so soon.

“Have you heard anything I just said?” Stevie asked on their drive home from their last appointment.

“No.” She didn’t bother lying.

“Love you too, buddy.”

“Were you talking about Game of Thrones again?”

“It ended, dipshit. Doesn’t matter. I thought you said dinner with your folks went fine?”

“It did.”

“Why are you pissed off, then?”

“I’m not pissed off.”

“Sure.”

“Fine. You’re pissing me off as of right now,” said Morgan.