Emma gave the dog a sad smile and stroked her neck, addressing the dog. “You’re a good girl. We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”
“Are you trying to work things out? You’ve invested a lot of years in each other.”
“Almost fifteen. Everything’s up in the air right now. He calls it a break.” Her fingers worked the needles nimbly. “It wasn’t my idea, this separation.”
Maddy studied Emma’s face. “You still love him.”
Emma paused her petting and looked at Maddy. Her eyes welled with tears as their gazes connected. “I do, Maddy. But you know what? I’ve only loved two men in my life—and they both left me. I don’t know if it’s worth the risk anymore.”
Maddy’s heart ached for her sister. “I know what you mean, Emma. I really do.”
Emma’s gaze sharpened on Maddy. “Are you and Nick having problems?”
Maddy gave a rueful laugh. She supposed it was time to come clean. “Understatement of the century. Nick and I are over. He—betrayed my trust.”
Emma gave her a sympathetic look. “Oh, Maddy. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Love just never came as easily to me as it does to you and Nora. And then something like this happens...”
“When did it happen?”
“Right before I came here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was still reeling. And honestly, feeling like the only one of us who can’t seem to maintain a romantic relationship.”
“Well, obviously that’s not the case.”
“I guess things aren’t always what they appear,” Maddy said.
She thought of divulging the part where she’d lost her job, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Her career had been the one thing in her life she was proud of—and now it was gone.
“I guess not,” Emma said.
***
June twelfth was the hardest day of the year for Connor. When it rolled around he tried to stay busy, and so far he’d succeeded this year. He almost wished he were still working at the restaurant, because he wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty house. But he didn’t exactly feel like company either.
His sisters had been calling all day long. They’d offered to come over, offered to take him out. He’d turned them down, but that hadn’t stopped the calls. His best friend, Lamont, had also called, asking if he wanted to grab a pizza or shoot hoops. Connor finally turned off his phone.
He tossed the rope line inside the speedboat and gave the departing couple a wave. “Have fun out there.”
“Thanks, man.” The middle-aged guy expertly maneuvered the boat out of its slip and into the wake of a larger vessel.
Connor gassed up a Crestliner and made small talk with the owner. He and his wife were from Florida, just retired, and enjoying their first summer off.
He and Annie had been working toward that day. She was a planner, and though retirement was years away they’d talked about it often. She was a Florida girl, and Seahaven had never felt like home to her. It was too cool for her liking in the winter, and the water never got warm enough. She wanted to retire in the Keys where they could bathe in the sun until their skin wrinkled like raisins.
And Connor wanted to please her so he worked crazy hours at the marina, saving money by hiring fewer hands. He became single-minded about planning for their future. It was good for the business and good for their bank account, but bad for their marriage. He’d only later realized his tunnel vision tendencies.
His long hours made Annie feel neglected. They had many arguments about it, but he was so busy being right he dismissed her feelings. She was shortsighted, he told himself. He was looking out for the long term, couldn’t she see that?
He swallowed hard against the knot forming in his throat. Why could he see so clearly now what he’d been blind to then? She’d needed his time. She’d needed him.
She’d also wanted a baby—and he’d failed to give her that too. It’s not that he was opposed to the idea of children. He just thought there was plenty of time for that, and he discounted her feelings. The reminder was a punch in the solar plexus.
“You all right, boss?” one of his hands asked as Connor made his way up the pier.
“Fine.” He managed a plastic smile and headed inside.
The familiar smells of new carpet and robust coffee failed to comfort him. He ducked into his tiny office and walked over to the window, shelving his hands on his hips. His breath felt stuffed inside lungs too small to hold it.
