“You have to stop thinking about it, Mac. You have to find a way to put it behind you. We all do.”

“I’m trying, babe. Believe me. It’s the last freaking thing I want to be thinking about, and yet there it is, all day every day, taunting me with the reminder of how very close we came to losing so much.”

Determined to keep him distracted, she crawled on top of him and reached over to the bedside table drawer where she’d stashed the vibrating “doohickey” she’d bought at Tiffany’s store.

Her husband’s eyes lit up when he saw what she had in her hand.

“What’re you about, my love?”

“I remember a time,” Linda said, sprinkling his chest with kisses, “when partying wasn’t the only thing that kept us up all night. Remember that first summer we were married, before Mac was born?”

He massaged her shoulders, working his way down her back to cup her bottom. “Oh, yeah. That was the best summer ever.”

“It sure was.” She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “What do you say we make this the best summer ever?”

“Would this best summer ever include that thing in your hand and whatever else Tiffany thinks we shouldn’t live without?”

Linda howled with laughter. And she’d thought he’d be resistant to toys in their bedroom. How wrong she’d been about that. “Whatever you want.”

His strong arms came around her, crushing her to him. “I like the sound of that.”

“Everything is going to be okay, Mac.”

“It will be as long as I have you.”

Linda took a moment to enjoy the sweet warmth of his embrace before she wriggled free and set out to take his mind off his worries for a little while longer.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Adam left the Surf and crossed the street to the Beachcomber, the iconic white hotel that anchored Gansett’s picturesque downtown. He cut through the lobby to the bar, where he took a quick look around but didn’t see Grant.

“Hi, Adam,” the bartender, Chelsea, said. They’d gone to high school together. “I hadn’t heard you were home.”

“How’s it going, Chelsea?”

“Race Week madness. We’ll all be glad when it’s over.”

As she said the words, a roar went up from the other end of the bar. “What’s going on down there?”

“Some of the sailors are teaching Abby Callahan how to do tequila shots. Pretty entertaining. I don’t think she’s ever done one before.”