His heart lurched when he read the notification showing part of the text:Hey.
As his palms went damp, he did some calculations and realized her wedding had been two days ago.
Huh. He hadn’t even noticed the date had come and gone. He’d lost track of the days and time—for that purpose, anyway.
Oscar smiled to himself, pleased and relieved. All good. He was moving on.
Hehadmoved on.
So he didn’t respond right away—or even open the text message box. He was good. It was fine. Marcie was happily married to Trevor, and Oscar was…here in Michigan. With Teddy.
Being haunted and broken in on, helping to plot thrillers, learning about brewing tea, and generally enjoying life.
And counting the hours until she finished her book—really finished it—so he could get to the project of finishingher.
He chuckled and set the phone aside to get the grill fired up.
But later, after they’d eaten and cleaned up the dishes, and Teddy had gone to her room to work for a little longer, he picked up the phone and opened the message alert. He was surprised to discover that was all it said:Hey.
At least she hadn’t sent him a picture of wherever she was—on her honeymoon, he realized—or, worse, a pic of the wedding.
Because it was rude not to respond, he texted back:Hey.
To his surprise, a little bubble immediately appeared on the screen, indicating she was responding.
Finally, her message came through:I guess you heard.
He frowned.Heard what?
Her response bubble popped up, then disappeared. Then it popped up again, stayed there for a long,longtime (what was going on?), then finally her response blipped onto the screen:I didn’t do it.
Oscar stared at the words. A cold sweat slicked over his skin, and his stomach knotted.Didn’t do what?he replied. But his mouth was dry because he knew. And then her answer came through.
I didn’t get married.
He read the words again. Stared at the phone. Blindly walked out onto the porch. He needed air.
Then, with fumbling fingers, he called Dina.
“Hi, sis,” he said, casually.Verycasually, even though his heart was pounding hard and fast enough to make him feel nauseated.
“Hey, bro. How are you doing?” Did she sound cautious? Overly hearty? Blithely innocent? He wasn’t certain. “You still in Michigan?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the name of the town again?”
“It’s called Wicks Hollow. I’m staying in the keeper’s cottage of a lighthouse. It’s—interesting.” To say the least. “So what’s new there?”
He waited, his heart still pounding—and even as he held the phone to his ear, he heard the soft ding of a text message coming in. And then another one. But he didn’t pull away the phone to look.
“Keeping busy?” Dina said.
“Yes.” Oscar felt his brows knit together as he began to pace the length of the porch. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About…?”
“Come off it, Engadine! You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you tell me what happened? Marcie didn’t get married. Why? What happened?”
