Lily nodded. “He always was. It just took me a long time to figure it out.” So long, she thought now. Through all the years alone with Rose up in Cape Hawk. Liam had always been there, waiting and helping. He had loved them every step of the way, and Lily had finally felt brave enough to love him back. Trusting a man after what had happened with Edward was no small feat. But now, with Liam, it seemed as easy and lovely as swimming on a summer night.

“We're so happy for you, Lily,” Bay said. “We thought we'd lost you forever. Now that we have you back, it's going to be so hard to let you go. . . .”

“I thought you were the one who didn't want to talk about it,” Tara said.

“You were right,” Bay said to Tara as she joined hands with both friends. “We'd better face the truth tonight, or we won't be ready when she leaves again tomorrow.”

“This time you know I'll be back,” Lily said.

“Promise?” Tara asked.

“I promise,” Lily said, and she had never meant a promise more.

Patrick stood with Marisa, listening to the music. The party swirled around them, and Patrick realized that he was standing in the place where it had all begun—Maeve's garden.

“What are you thinking?” Marisa asked.

“Right there,” he said, pointing toward the wishing well. “That's where I found her watering can and yellow boots. Lily walked out of her life nine years ago, and I walked in.”

“Thank God you did,” Marisa said.

Patrick felt himself redden. “For all the good I did,” he said. “I never found her, in all that time.”

“You found me,” Marisa whispered, holding him.

“I didn't even know I was looking for you,” he said, staring into her green eyes.

“I know,” she said. “Out of something so terrible has come more than I've ever imagined.”

Patrick followed her gaze across the rose garden, to Sam, Jessica, and Rose, playing with Flora. He thought of Tally, and held Marisa a little tighter.

He thought of the cases he had worked on, the crimes he had tried to solve. He thought of Edward Hunter's smug face, and he gazed into Marisa's luminous eyes.

“Sometimes you have to look at what's really bad,” he said, “to see what's really good.”

She reached up, touched his cheek. Her smile was still sad, just a little, so much less so than when he'd first met her.

“I'm looking,” she said, fixed on his eyes, “at what's really good, right now.”

“So am I,” he said.

“The best,” she whispered, standing on tiptoes to kiss him as the music played on in Maeve's rose garden.