“Well, things aren’t like you left them,” Ruth had said.

“They were pretty bad when I last saw her.”

“Well, there’s more.”

“What do you mean?” Ivy huddled in the corner of the tiny room she rented on Staten Island. Outside, traffic horns and police sirens wailed. A yellow neon BAIL BONDS sign blinked outside her window.

“Dani and Matthew. They got married.”

“What?”

“She’s pregnant.”

Ivy quickly counted backward. “How pregnant?”

“Two months.”

Tears clogged her throat. “Did they even wait for me to clear the North Carolina state line before they hooked up?”

“You’d been in New York at least two months,” Ruth said dryly. “It wasn’t like they betrayed you. You left them.”

The truth of Ruth’s words didn’t ease the sting. “Isn’t there a code prohibiting ex-boyfriends and friends from hooking up?” She was fairly certain the universe required at least five, maybe six years before exes could move on.

“Life never stops, kid, whether you like it or not. Your leaving created a hole in their lives, and they filled it.”

“They were my backup plan,” she said, more to herself.

“You were their plan,” Ruth said. “The funding for Matthew’s restaurant fell through without you. And Dani’s back working for her dad.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” she said.

“I know. But you did.”

And now, just like that, it was twelve years later.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Dani asked.

Ivy stepped aside. “Dani, you look great.”

As Dani moved past Ivy, her gaze wantonly roamed the cottage’s interior. Her smile always widened when she was nervous or mad. “I haven’t been here since Ruth passed. I’d forgotten how determined Ruth was to save what she could.”

No one had seen Ruth’s heart attack coming. “She told me you two talked a lot.”

“We single mothers stick together.” Dani held out the wine bottles. “You didn’t drink wine in high school, but I figured you acquired a taste while in New York.”

Ivy accepted the bottles, read the labels, and was impressed. Both cabernets came with a hundred-dollar-plus price tag, and as far as peace offerings or welcome-home gifts went, they were extravagant. Dani wasn’t showing off her money, but as with her brother, money had never been a problem, except for the few years Dani was supposed to attend art school. “Thank you.”

“The Manchesters can do better than a construction dumpster. Though now that I’m here, Dalton might be onto something.”

“Both are welcome.” Ivy set the bottles on the kitchen counter. “How is Bella?”

Dani’s grin widened. “She’s great. Would you like to see a picture?”

“Sure.”

She scrolled through the images on her phone and picked one that looked recent. “I took this yesterday.”

Ivy studied the image of the young girl with her father’s dark hair, her mother’s blue eyes, and an enviable peaches-and-cream complexion. If she’d stayed in Nags Head, would Matthew and she have really married and had children? Would their child be as lovely as Bella? “She looks like both you and Matthew.”