A hand settled on her shoulder. Warm, calloused, familiar.
“Hey.” Will’s voice was soft. “Been looking for you.”
Tara turned. Something in her face must have shown, because his expression shifted.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked at him. At this man who’d never cared about her money or status, who’d fallen in love with her while she was at her lowest. Who’d built her a jewelry box by hand and never once made her feel like she wasn’t enough.
“Someone from Miami sent photos. Harry’s married again. His third.”
Will’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. He waited, hand steady on her shoulder.
“She’s younger than Mandy was. Probably younger than Christina.” Tara looked back at the phone, at Harry’s strained smile and his bored fiancée. “He looks miserable. Like he’s running as fast as he can and getting nowhere.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want to delete these photos and go back to my wedding reception. I want to dance with my husband.”
Will’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “That’s me now.”
“That’s you.” The truth of it settled into her chest, solid and sure. “And I’m grateful. For this life, this place, all of it. Even the parts that hurt, because they led me here.”
She deleted the photos. Blocked Diane’s number for good measure—she didn’t need that kind of “friend” anymore. Then she slipped the phone into her pocket and took Will’s hand.
“Dance with me.”
He pulled her close right there on the porch, even though the music was distant and the floorboards creaked beneath them.
“We’re missing the party,” he murmured against her hair.
“The party can wait.” She breathed him in—sawdust, soap, the faint sweetness of wedding cake. “I just need a minute here.”
Out back, someone was making a toast—laughter and applause, the bright noise of celebration. Her family was here. Her children, her grandchild, the community that had welcomed her when she’d arrived broken and lost.
And here, in the arms of a man who loved her as she was, Tara felt something she hadn’t felt in years.
Whole.
She pulled back to look at Will’s face. The lines around his eyes. The silver threading through his dark hair. The quiet steadiness that had drawn her to him from the beginning.
“I love you,” she said.
“I know.” That slow smile she never tired of seeing. “Love you too. Now come on—Ryan’s organizing the electric slide, and it’s going to be either wonderful or a disaster. We shouldn’t miss it.”
Tara laughed and let him lead her inside, toward the music and the lights and the beautiful chaos of the family she’d built.
The lake held the last of the sunset behind her. Purple and gold fading to stars.
She didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 5
EVAN
Morning light slanted through the kitchen window, catching the steam rising from Evan’s coffee mug. Outside, a cardinal landed on the bird feeder Emily had installed the first week after they’d moved into the new house—bright red against the green blur of the backyard, the lake glinting silver beyond the trees.
Six months. They’d been in Blueberry Hill six months now, and some mornings he still woke up disoriented, reaching for his phone to check emails that no longer came.
