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  That was all I could think about doing.

  So I wake up crying—thank you for that, Ryan—go for a run, eat something, and then sit on the beach, watching the waves while thinking.

  I do a lot of that.

  The first day I was gone, Ryan sent me the picture Tommy took of us in DC in that restaurant we went to. Yesterday it was a picture of us on the beach in North Carolina. He’s sent them at the same time every day, which means I should get it soon while I watch the sun come up.

  I have no intention of living in Hawaii, or even staying here particularly long.

  I just needed an escape, and the thought of driving south or east just didn’t appeal.

  The thought of driving didn’t appeal.

  I just couldn’t start over again. It felt like fate, a good omen maybe, that Hawaii was the first flight out. Like somehow Eric was directing me.

  But today Eric isn’t really who’s occupying my thoughts.

  It’s Maggie.

  My fingers clasp my pendant, a place they’ve been visiting more and more frequently in the last couple of days. We only took her to the beach once, and that was on the north shore of Massachusetts. She would have loved it here, would have been non-stop action. Dragging both Eric and me into the ocean, and fishing, and jumping in the pool.

  If I close my eyes, I can almost picture it.

  I hate this feeling, yet I somehow revel in it.

  But if I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt this low in a while.

  Not since that night in the car with Ryan, and even then it wasn’t this bad because I had him there to hold me through it. Ryan. Yeah, he seemed to make all of this ugliness better. Seemed to make it easier to carry and walk through, knowing he was with me on the other side.

  My phone pings from the pocket of my shorts, and for a moment, I hesitate, knowing what it’s going to be. But then my curiosity gets the better of me, so I slide it out of my shorts, swipe the screen to unlock it, and stare at the image.

  It’s of me on the beach in Charleston, staring at the sunrise—much the way I am now—but this is a candid shot. I didn’t know he was taking it and it’s obvious. My eyes are distant, my hair blowing out behind me, and a small grateful smile is pulling at the corner of my lips. I can’t see my entire face, it’s a profile shot, but I get the point.

  I wonder how many pictures he took without me noticing.

  There’s a message with the picture, which is new for him.

  This was the moment I knew I was in trouble.

  I’m not really sure what he means by the word trouble. Did he know that I would hurt him? Is that what he’s trying to say? That he knew I’d be no good for him? I can’t stand that thought. I can’t sit here anymore; it’s making me nuts.

  I need to go find something to do.

  Lucky for me, this island has no shortage of activities to occupy my time.

  I find a lot of things to do.

  I end up going for a really long walk and then hiking around a remote part of the island. By the time I make it back, it’s late and I’m hungry and tired, but my mind is quiet, and I sleep.

  My early morning run consists of pounding rain.

  Not exactly fun and it definitely knocks out sitting on the beach, because this rain is supposed to keep up all day.

  I miss Ryan. I miss Eric, and I miss Maggie.

  Not in that order. Maggie is first, and always will be. But I’ve been putting off thinking about Ryan. I see the pictures he sends me, and then I tuck them away.

  Eric, on the other hand, is everywhere—just as I intended him to be. I see his smiles and feel his touches and hear his laughter. Hear his words. And it breaks me all over again.

  I know this is bad.

  I know what I’m doing is counterproductive, and detrimental to my mental health and all that bullshit, but I can’t seem to stop it either. I long for those memories. I want to drown in them and never come up for air again. Immerse myself in the pain of it.

  My phone pings right on schedule, but this time, I set my phone face down on the nightstand and crawl back under the covers.

  It’s raining anyway.

  Two hours later when I wake up, the first thing I do is go for the damn phone that has been waiting for me. Another candid picture of me. This time I’m driving, my mouth slightly open like I’m saying something or singing, I can’t tell which.

  Another message.

  This was the first time I heard you sing—it was on the way to the show we went to.

  I remember that night. I remember the dancing and jumping around, and the fun we had together—until that creepy guy came along of course. Another text comes in while I’m still looking at the picture, which surprises me. Ryan usually only sends one a day.

  It’s of us at that show, all red-cheeked and smiling.

  I would do anything to keep you safe— I would slay dragons for you.

  Damn him. Dammit, Ryan.

  I toss my phone back on the nightstand and cover myself with my blankets again. I’m done for the day and it isn’t even lunchtime.

  I slept through the rest of the day and night. I haven’t done that in almost two years. I should be concerned about this, and maybe I am a little, but I can’t seem to stop it either. This downward spiral has got me firmly in its grasp and I’m allowing it to hold on tight.

  Why? I really don’t know, actually.

  I just don’t have any fight in me right now.

  It doesn’t help that I dreamt of Eric all night. He was smiling and happy and holding my hand, but then he kissed it before letting go with that adoring smile of his. I kept reaching for him, but it was like he was gone and I was left all alone again.

  The sky is still dark as I crawl out of bed and throw on some running stuff. At least I’m still running. That’s a positive thing, but it’s really not enough.

  Certainly doesn’t feel like it is.

  The rain is gone and the predawn sky is clear and calm.

  So is the ocean. The waves are hardly making themselves known, the tide silently sliding up and down across the sand. I run farther than I have since I’ve been here. I can’t seem to stop. I feel like I’m chasing after something I know I’ll never reach.

  I decide to shower at the spa instead of in my room, and after eating something, I venture into town. It’s a busy island, and the streets and shops are filled with locals and tourists who stayed away during yesterday’s rain. As I’m walking down one of the main drags, something catches my eye and I stop instantly.

  A kickboxing studio.

  I open the door and walk into the heavily air-conditioned building without conscious thought.

  “Aloha, may I help you?” a friendly woman with long, straight black hair and dark skin asks. My eyes travel around the room, only seeing two other people. One is punching a bag, the other coaching. The smell of rubber and cleaning products surrounds me, and it’s as familiar as it is new.

  Taking two large steps forward, I reach the woman with a fake smile plastered on my face. “I’d like to work out for a while. Is that okay?”

  Her eyes travel over me, but whatever she’s thinking is well-concealed. “Do you have any gloves?” I shake my head. “Normally we require sneakers in the gym.”

  Right. I’m an idiot. My eyes roam down to my black flip flops. “I can come back.” I don’t even look up at her as I say it.

  “No,” she says with unexpected force. “You can stay. But if you come back after today, you’ll need to be better equipped.”

  My eyes fly up to hers, and I can’t help the smile I feel spreading across my face. My first genuine smile since I’ve been on this island.

  “Thank you.”

  She hooks me up with black gloves and brings me over to a trainer named Tiger. Whatever, I’m not judging the guy’s name. He’s a house of a man with a military-style crew cut, black hair, and skin equally as dark as the receptionist.

  “Why are you here today, Kate?” he asks.

 
; “I have a lot of crap I need to work out, Tiger, and I can’t seem to make that happen on my own.”

  “Fair enough, let’s get started.”

  He lines me up, gives me some instruction, and then lets me have at it.

  My fists fly through the air repeatedly. My hands and knuckles burn, despite the protection of my gloves. My arms are sore and tired.

  But I don’t care.

  It’s a high, and I find I’m smiling big through my sweat and tears. Yes, there are some tears involved.

  “Can I come back again tomorrow?” I ask Tiger when I’m too exhausted to continue. I don’t think doing this after an exceptionally long run was the way to go.

  “I’ll be here at ten tomorrow morning, waiting for you.” His accent is so thick that it takes me a moment to understand him, but when I do, I smile wide, thank him and then leave.

  I feel better.

  Much the way I did in Dallas the last time I boxed. I think I could get addicted to this high.

  My first thought is that I want to call Ryan and tell him, which just sucks.

  I mean I miss him as my lover, but I really miss him as my friend.

  Miss being able to talk to him and joke with him and tell him anything, knowing he’d never think less of me. That’s so rare, right? Other than Eric, very few of my friends were like that. Women can be quick to condemn, at least that was the situation with many of my friends.

  They judged me on my relationship with Eric, judged me on getting pregnant so fast with Maggie, judged me when I didn’t get over losing them within six months of their deaths. Not all of them, but most, and it made me closed off and afraid to open up.

  Until Ryan.

  I didn’t even have to think about it with him, it just happened.

  I wonder how he’s holding up, if he’s okay and getting into his new life the way he should. His work is a big part of him and I know having Luke there will help.

  I intentionally didn’t bring my phone with me, but I sort of can’t wait to get back to my room and see if he texted me a picture and message. I live for those messages. Picturing the way he says the words. How his green eyes light up with humor and mischief. His crooked smile that totally nails me every time.

  The text is there waiting and when I see it, it makes my heart stop.

  It’s two pictures again. The first one is a candid of me at the pool in Miami, lounging in my white bikini.

  I have never wanted a woman as badly as I want you.

  The second picture is a selfie we took inside the club.

  I miss holding your sexy body while we dance—something I never enjoyed before you.

  I had been all over him that night. Couldn’t get enough, and even though I convinced myself over and over again that our interactions that night were harmless and simple flirting, deep down I knew better.

  By day five on the island, my routine had changed again. I wake up, go for a shorter run, eat breakfast, and then hit up the kickboxing gym for two hours.

  After that, I obsessively check my phone for more pictures and messages. Some are simple and don’t have a lot of deep meaning.

  Some throw me totally off balance. Like the one he sent me of our night in New Orleans.

  This was the worst night of our entire trip for me, but it made me realize you’re the only woman I’ll ever want.

  I don’t know why it was the worst night of the trip for him, but I do remember that his clothes smelled of perfume when I packed them up and there was an empty condom wrapper in the pocket of the jeans he had worn out that night. He had been with a woman. I was certain of it, and though I tried not to let it hurt me, it did. I ignored that feeling, though, told myself he was allowed to be with other women.

  I wonder if he regrets being with her, whoever she is?

  The rest of my week gets better day by day.

  I’ve stopped crying, stopped wallowing in my own misery and taken action. In addition to the kickboxing, I’ve started going to yoga. I’ve never been a big fan of all that breathing and meditation, but what the hell? It can’t hurt, and I swear I’ve never been in better shape in my life.

  I miss him. I miss Ryan so much; all I can think about now is going back to Seattle. But I still feel like something is holding me back and I can’t get a firm grip on it.

  Or how to change it.

  While I’m staring at the picture Ryan sent of me in Dallas after I boxed for the first time, the message reading, this was the moment I realized I was in love you, my phone rings in my hand. It’s my mother-in-law, Rebecca.

  I haven’t spoken to her since before I left Boston.

  I hit the green phone symbol and answer the call. “Hi, Rebecca.” I’m trying for upbeat here, but I doubt she’ll be so easily fooled.

  “Kate, honey,” her affectionate timbre hits me hard, warming the blood flowing through my veins in the best possible way. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “I’m okay, how are you?” I sit back on my bed, knees bent, staring out at the ocean that’s only a hundred feet from me.

  “Hanging in there. Where are you?”

  I hesitate. “Hawaii.” My fingers twirl in my hair over and over again.

  Rebecca is silent for so long, I’m about to see if the call disconnected when I hear her huff out some air into the phone. “Why are you in Hawaii, Kate?”

  “I just needed to come back. To…” Christ, how do I say this to her? I’m closer with Rebecca than I am with my own mother. But she’s Eric’s mom, which means the last thing I want to do is hurt her.

  “Your mother said you were traveling with someone,” she interrupts. “A man. Did that not go well? She was hoping it would lead to something.”

  “What?” That’s news to me. And why on earth would she tell Rebecca that? “Rebecca, the man I was traveling with, he’s…” He’s what? Just a friend? I can’t say that about Ryan and be honest. Shit.

  “Did it turn into something more? Your mother was sure it would. Said he was your childhood prince or something.” Her tone is even, maybe a little hopeful, which I don’t get.

  Or maybe I’m just hearing what I want to hear.

  “Why would Mom say that to you?” I’m so pissed off right now.

  “Don’t be upset with her. I wasn’t.”

  That totally confuses me.

  “He… I—” I run a hand through my hair, covering my eyes. I can’t handle this conversation. I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Honey,” her tone is soft. “I’m hoping it did turn into more. If he’s a good man, worthy of a woman like you, then it would make me so very happy to hear that you’re with him now.”

  “How?” I can barely get the word out. I’m totally flabbergasted.

  “What?” she half-laughs. “Did you think I’d want you to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life?”

  “Um…” I really don’t have a response to that.

  “Kate,” she says my name all motherly, with a stern intonation. “What I want is for you to be happy. That’s all Eric ever wanted too. It would kill him all over again to know that you’ve been suffering the way you have, for as long as you have. He loved you with all his heart, and he would want you to find someone and start again. Have more babies. Be happy,” she emphasizes.

  Fuck, I’m crying so hard I can barely breathe.

  “Did something happen with this new man?”

  “Yes,” I sob out, curling into myself. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for it to happen.”

  “Stop that. I’m happy for you if he’s what you want. You’re doing nothing wrong by being with another man. It’s a good thing. A healthy thing.”

  “No,” I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “I feel like I’m betraying Eric’s memory. Our marriage. My love for him.”

  “You listen to me, now,” her tone is unyielding, leaving no room for argument or interpretation. “You are doing no such thing. You loved Eric and he loved you. No one is questioning that. Eric nev
er once questioned it. You should love another man. You should get married again and have more children.”

  “I don’t know how, Rebecca,” I admit, feeling so…lost. “I do love Ryan. He’s the person I was traveling with, and he’s so incredible. But I just can’t cross this bridge. I still feel like I’m married to Eric.” My head rolls back against the wood headboard and I stare up at the rattan ceiling fan that’s going around and around.

  “Honey. You’re not moving on from Eric’s memory, from your marriage to him. You’re not forgetting him. You’re moving forward. You will always love Eric. You will always have the wonderful happy memories of your life with him. But that was your old life, Kate. You hear me?” she says forcefully. “Your old life. Did you ever consider that Eric is the love of your old life, and this man could be the love of your new one?”

  No. No, I did not, because I never considered my marriage to Eric, my life before, as an old life and this as a new one. “I don’t know what to do,” I confess, feeling so defeated and broken all over again.

  “You’re going to get the hell out of Hawaii for starters.” Damn, I love this woman. “You’re going to go back and get your life together. Get a job, make some friends, start again. And if you want to include this Ryan in that, all the better.”

  “Shit,” I laugh out. “What did I do to deserve you as my mother-in-law?”

  “Knock that crap off. You’re my daughter forever, and that means I’ll always want what’s best for you. Now, hang up with me and go out and find yourself again. You’ve been missing for far too long.”

  I do hang up with her shortly after that, and take the longest shower ever—mostly because I’m so lost in thought—then I pack my bags and do as I was told.

  I leave Hawaii.

  29

  Ryan

  * * *

  “The agent for the homeowner is calling again,” my assistant Claire calls out to me from my home office. “Do you want me to pick up or let it go to voicemail?”

  “Let it go to voicemail,” I yell back from the kitchen. “I already told them I haven’t decided about purchasing. I’ve still got three more months left on my lease, for fuck’s sake,” I snap, like their constant pestering is Claire’s fault. Why is there no food in my house?