“Don’t look at me like that,” Big Mac growled. “I can’t help that I’ve been a freaking wreck over this whole thing.”

Mac got up from the table and pushed his chair in. “I’m going home to have lunch with Maddie and the kids. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“What’s up with him?” Adam asked his dad when they were alone.

“He can’t stand to see me like this, and I can’t seem to make it stop.” Blinking back tears, Big Mac stared at something over Adam’s shoulder. “It was a very long day. I can’t get past it, no matter how hard I try. All I think about is what could’ve happened.”

Undone by his father’s tears, Adam rested his hand on Big Mac’s forearm, which was already as tan in May as some people would be in August. “Everyone’s safe, Dad. Don’t drive yourself crazy with what-ifs.”

“You’re right, and so is your mother and Janey and Mac. Easier said than done, though.” He shrugged. “Anyway, here’s our chowder. Tell me what’s new in New York.”

“Ah, well,” Adam said with a short laugh. “There’s a story that’ll give you something else to think about.” For his dear old dad’s sake, he gladly told the ugly tale one more time.

Stephanie left the marina and drove a little too fast on the way into town. Lately she was perpetually rushed, jetting from one job to the other with hardly any time for anything other than work. She’d known it would be chaotic opening her own restaurant while continuing to work for the McCarthys, but the boat accident had added a layer of stress she hadn’t planned on.

While she wanted to put Grant first, her schedule would be beastly until Race Week concluded and the crowds subsided a bit until Memorial Day Weekend, when the season began in earnest. If she could just get through the next few days, she’d be able to focus on Grant and trying to get him to talk to her about whatever was troubling him.

Rather than stop at home, she placed a call to him from the car.

“Hey, babe,” he said as he always did.

She could tell he was making an effort to keep things normal between them, but nothing had been normal since that horrible day last week when she’d spent eight hours thinking about how she’d ever live without him. “Hi, there. How’re you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

“I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t find you.”

“Oh, sorry. I was awake, so I took a walk. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I seem to be worried about you all the time.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. Really.”

“Grant—”

“Everything okay at the restaurant?”