Jackson picked up his lawn chair and then straddled it backward so he’d be facing the group. “Damn, you two aren’t just playing with me? If I’d known she wasn’t off limits…” He stopped at the murderous expression on Matt’s face.

Nicholas leaned over. “If I were you I wouldn’t finish that sentence.”

Jackson shook his head as he looked back at Matt. “You are pathetic. I was going to say I would have married her. Mara is one of a kind.”

Matt snorted. “You? Married?”

A hush fell over the group. Matt cleared his throat a few times before speaking. “Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You aren’t saying anything that isn’t true. I’m glad for once you aren’t walking on eggshells around me.” Jackson looked pointedly at Matt, then the other guys in the group.

“I gave up my chance to have a solo career when Cynthia got pregnant. I’ll never regret that choice. She gave me the two best things in my life. I just wish she was here to see how amazing our boys are.”

He stopped, frightened for a moment that his throat would close and he’d confirm their image of him as the tragic, broken widower. He just felt such anger, such impotent rage, that one twist of fate could take away his entire world.

“It’s not too late. You could put out an album now,” Nick suggested.

“I could. But it would mean a lot of time on the road away from the kids. I’ve let that dream go and I’m okay with it. Producing may not have been my first love but it’s been good to me and I’m grateful. As for the marriage thing… Look, I know you guys think my life is just one party after another but I’m not making anyone any promises. I only date women who know the score and want the same thing I want. No strings and no drama.”

“You’re only twenty-five, Jack. You can’t think you’re going to be alone the rest of your life,” Nicholas pointed out.

“I loved Cynthia more than life and when she died… well, let’s just say I’m not signing up for that kind of pain ever again.”

It was so hard to remember his vibrant wife in that hospital bed, broken and bruised. Especially since he’d been as much at fault in the accident as the drunk driver who’d plowed his SUV into her car.

He’d gotten there before they wheeled her into surgery. There’d been just enough time to tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her. She’d made him promise that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t stop living. For their boys’ sake, especially, that he not close himself off.

He ran a hand over his face wearily. It was the only time he’d ever consciously lied to her. But in that moment he’d have done anything, promised anything, to give her peace. Including the one thing he knew he couldn’t do.

Love again.

“So, anyway, my point is that it doesn’t make me an asshole because I’m not signing up for the whole ‘til death do us part deal again. I just don’t believe you can find that kind of connection more than once in a lifetime.”

He looked at the ground, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He couldn’t stand the looks of pity. He was a composer not a lyricist. He didn’t have words to describe what it felt like to have the perfect family and then have it ripped in pieces. All he had were emotions that made him feel about as big as an ant and a sense of humor to keep his mind off the things he couldn’t change.

He leaned closer to Matt. His friend clapped a hand on his shoulder, his expression grave. He almost hated to play a joke on him when he looked so serious but this conversation was way too kumbaya for his taste. And joking around was easier than putting his emotions on a platter for everyone to rifle through.

“But I would definitely make an exception for your sister because she is fine as hell!”

He barely had time to duck when Matt swung on him this time, but hearing his friends laugh was worth a few blows. 

*   *   *   *   *

“FINAL STOP—PORT of New Haven!”

Ridley Wells leaned her forehead against the bus window and gazed at the boats bobbing in the water. The small shops lining the pier still had the same bright red awnings. Fat seagulls still swooped down from above, ready to waddle their way up and down the boardwalk begging for food. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been here. Fifteen years ago.

After waiting a few minutes so the other passengers could disembark, she grabbed her backpack and stepped down into the warm, briny air. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the water.

She’d been traveling for two days and was more than ready to take a hot shower and sleep in a real bed. If Raina doesn’t slam the door in your face. With her sister’s temper, it was a distinct possibility.

“Is this your first trip to the peninsula, too?”

A middle-aged woman wearing a bright pink “Nowhere Like New Haven” tee shirt and a faded blue visor stood at her elbow. A group of other women, all wearing the same bright pink shirt, milled nearby chatting excitedly. Tourists, Ridley thought. Come to enjoy the beaches and the world-class seafood restaurants.

“No. I used to live here. A long time ago.”

She smiled politely at the woman before walking past the others and pulling out her phone. She’d mapped out the distance from the New Haven, Virginia bus station to her sister’s house while on the road. At less than a mile it should be a relatively easy walk and a nice one. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and set off to the south, toward the center of town.