I told him how they were both gone now. “I lost both of them when Mia was a baby. Just months apart. They were soulmates. Had to go out together, I guess. But it was hard, especially because I was so proud of Mia and wished they could see her grow up.”
I reached for the bread basket at the same time as Vance. The brief contact sent a small shock through me—silly, really, but I pulled back like I’d been burned. From the way his eyes widened slightly, he’d felt it too.
We talked nonstop while sharing a piece of apple pie, The Pelican gradually emptying around us until we were one of the last tables left.
“I should probably let you go,” Vance said eventually, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost ten.”
“Is it?” I checked my phone, startled. Three hours had passed. It had felt like thirty minutes.
When he walked me to my car, the ocean breeze had picked up, carrying the salt scent of the harbor. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to shiver. He took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, a gesture that made my knees weak.
At my car, I hesitated with my keys in my hand, not quite ready for the evening to end. “Thank you for dinner. And for sharing so much with me. It was unexpectedly candid.”
“I had a great time.” He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m glad I haven’t scared you off yet.”
“Maybe we could do this again,” I said softly, surprising myself with the words.
He smiled, a slow, warm smile that made my heart knock against my ribs. “I’d like that. Very much. Tomorrow night?”
“Oh, tomorrow.” That soon? Was there some kind of rule about the number of days between dates? “Sure. I’m free.”
“Great. I’ll text you tomorrow. We can make plans.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He held open my car door as I slid into the driver’s seat. Something about his long fingers holding the doorframe, with his neck craned to look at me, made me feel safe and cherished.
I got into my car, started the engine, and watched him in the rearview mirror as he walked back toward The Pelican, his hands still in his pockets, his stride unhurried.
What had just happened? I’d just spent the evening with a nice man. He’d seemed to like me. And I very much liked him. I hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable or to laugh so much. Or to share such intimate things about our pasts.
I flipped on the radio for the drive back to the house. My thoughts tumbled from one thing to another. Vance Prescott had been a surprise. He was handsome and intelligent. In fact, there wasn't really anything I could find fault with. He seemed like a wonderful man. Honest. Even vulnerable at times. But there was his daughter. Drama. Heartbreak. Legal complications. Was I willing to deal with all that?
I glanced in the rearview mirror out of habit. A car was behind me, headlights bright in the darkness. It had been there since I'd left The Pelican parking lot. Probably just someone else heading home. But something about it made my shoulders tense.
In the months after Carter left, I'd felt it constantly. Eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. I'd chalked it up to the paranoia that comes with a shattered marriage—that feeling that everyone knew, everyone was judging, everyone was waiting to see if I'd fall apart.
Eventually, the feeling faded. Or maybe I just got used to it.
I checked the mirror again. The car was still there, maintaining the same distance. At the next light, it turned off. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
Stop being paranoid. Not everyone is Carter. “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol came on the radio.
The song Carter and I had chosen for our wedding dance. Actually, Carter had chosen it. Said it reminded him of me—of how he’d always protect me. Hearing it now was like a sucker punch right in the stomach.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. The song played on, each note unraveling me until I couldn’t stop the memory from crashing through. What an innocent I’d been. If I’d only known what was to come, only nine years after I felt like a princess in his arms.
I tried to push it aside, but the memory of that awful evening bombarded me. Mia and I had left for an overnight trip with her Girl Scout troop, but shortly after dinner she’d felt ill. A fever. I’d packed us up quickly and headed home.
I gathered my sick, limp child into my arms. The moment we came in from the garage, I heard laughter. A woman’s voice, playful and flirty. Mia stirred in my arms, her eyes fluttering open. “Someone’s here.”
“I think your dad must have a friend over. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you to bed.” I carried her up the stairs, past our bedroom, silent as a ghost, the sounds of my husband and a woman coming from behind the closed door. Although I was in shock, I kept my head enough to know that I needed to get Mia into bed before I faced whatever it was Carter was doing in our bedroom.
After I gave Mia some medicine to take down her fever, I tucked her into bed, promising her I’d be right back, but she was already asleep by the time I closed her door.
Then, I walked the ten steps or so to the room I shared with my husband. I crept down the hall, my bare feet silent against the hardwood, and opened the bedroom door. And therethey were. My husband and a woman. Her skinny legs wrapped around my husband’s backside.
I gasped loud enough that it interrupted whatever it was they were doing. The girl turned her head toward me and screamed, as if I were a perpetrator.
