Now I understood that the crux of the situation wasn’t even really about babies. I had been too self-centered to realize that Amelia still worried about being in Greer’s shadow. I had done everything I could to let her know that she was the one I wanted. But maybe I hadn’t done a good enough job. Or maybe there was no use trying to hide something so huge from someone who knows you so well.

I should have been more honest with her. Was I even capable of making the right choice anymore?

That was when I turned the boat around. When I looked down at my phone, I saw I was still too far offshore to get service. But as soon as I did, I texted Amelia immediately. Babe, I don’t know why I got on this boat when all I want is you. I’m sorry. I swear.

Nothing. No dots. She could be asleep. But if she was asleep, then she wasn’t as worried about all this as I was. I looked down again. No dots.

I pushed the throttle forward, tired and distracted and unable to keep my eyes off the phone screen, searching for a response that wasn’t coming.

About the time the house came back into view, the phone rang. It was exactly five a.m. I pulled the throttle to slow the boat and answered frantically, “Hello!”

“Parker, my boy,” George said, not frantically at all. George. Not Amelia. “I just sent you a prospectus. Southern Coast has gone under. It’s being dismantled for parts. We might not want it, but we could pick it up for nothing, headquarter it wherever.”

Southern Coast. Greer and Amelia’s favorite magazine. Now my head was pounding. I was too tired to think about this, too drained to deal with it. But my instincts were sharp even when I wasn’t. I couldn’t let Amelia’s favorite magazine fold. I knew she would want it. Whether she forgave me or not, I wanted her to have it. “We can revamp that one, George. It has to be relocated to a Southern town.” I paused. “Maybe even a small one. It needs Southerners writing for it…” I trailed off. “Let me sit down at my computer, and let’s meet about it next week.”

“Ten-four. Good man. You’ll take the lead on this one.”

I nodded and hung up. It was as clear as day to me that Amelia had to be editor in chief. I couldn’t imagine anyone in the vast numbers of McCann employees who could reenvision it like she could.

An hour later, as I was pacing around the bedroom in the guesthouse, all thoughts of Southern Coast gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about my favorite passage in Greer’s last book. It rang so true I had committed it to memory.

Everyone always thinks that thing is going to happen to someone else. That cancer or car wreck, infertility battle or bankruptcy declaration. Other people’s problems. But we tend to think that the really great things only happen to someone else, too. They never believe they will be the one to become CEO, to start the nonprofit, to get the record deal, to change the world. Other people’s successes. But none of these things belong to other people.