Adam followed Evan up the stairs. “Oh, shit. That sucks.”

“Big-time. I guess Paul needed help running the business and taking care of her, so Alex quit his job and moved home.”

Adam felt for the guy. It must’ve been a bitter pill to go from working at the National Conservatory to cutting grass again for his family’s landscaping business. He knew a little bit about bitter pills himself these days.

“Is mom having a big dinner for you tonight?”

“So I’m told.”

“I may not make it, but I’m sure Grace will be there.”

“How are things with you guys?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

Evan showed him the four bedrooms and two bathrooms they’d installed upstairs for the artists who’d be coming to the island to record at the studio. “We’re booked through the summer and into October.”

“That’s great, Ev. Congratulations. It looks amazing.”

“Thanks.” Evan gave a not-so-subtle glance at his watch. “I hate to say it, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

“No problem. Hope we can hang out while I’m home.”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to. Good to see you, bro,” Evan said as he jogged up the stairs to rejoin Josh.

Adam left feeling like Evan was working awfully hard to act like everything was fine. He knew Evan almost as well as he knew himself, and all his instincts told him his little brother was anything but fine.

Her cell phone began ringing around five, and Abby ignored the first call from Cal as well as the second. By now he’d found the note she left him and might be upset that she’d left. Or maybe he was relieved. Probably the latter. After the second call, though, she became curious and checked her voice mail.

“Hey, babe. I’m just home from my mom’s and wondering where you are and what you want to do for dinner. Give me a call.”

Abby let out a groan. He hadn’t found the note she’d left in plain sight on the kitchen table. Knowing him, he’d gone directly to the fridge for a beer and was now sprawled on the sofa watching ESPN. The familiar image gave her a pang of longing for him that she quickly pushed to the back of her mind. She’d made her decision, and now she had to live with it.

She listened to his second, more urgent message with a growing sense of dismay. Was she going to have to tell him she’d left him? God, she hoped not. It’d been hard enough to write the note. She couldn’t imagine having to say the words, which was why she went with a text.

I left you a note on the table.

Oh, sorry, missed that. BRB.