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Authors: Holly Robinson
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have gone to bed with her. You didnât give in. Thatâs what matters.â
âBecause I love you too much,â Jake said, pressing her hand to his lips. âI would never do that to you.â
âI know,â she said, and kissed him.
Afterward, Laura had driven to her sisterâs apartment, breaking the speed limit even before leaving the driveway.
Anne had denied everything. She told a completely different version of events that Laura didnât buy for a minute. And catching them together two Christmases ago proved to Laura beyond a doubt that Anne couldnât be trusted with her husband.
Now Laura rose from the breakfast table and began methodically tidying the newspapers. Jake wouldnât just go off and see Anne, would he?
He might, if Anne was having some sort of crisis and thatâs what had brought her back to Folly Cove.
Laura loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and ran upstairs to get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, she was in the car and driving toward Jakeâs office in Gloucester. She needed to see for herself that his bicycle was actually there.
Laura drove the way she usually did, one hand on the wheel, the radio on loud, with no regard for speed. She knew these roads well enough to drive them blindfolded.
In less than fifteen minutes, she arrived at Jakeâs office building. It must have rained here last night; there were puddles as bright as mirrors all over the tarmac.
She pulled into the lot and sat there with the engine idling. Jakeâs bicycle was there, padlocked to the bike rack. He had been telling the truth! Her relief was colored by shame. She shouldnât have doubted him.
Her prepaid phone buzzed. She knew it was that phone because the other one was set to a jungle ringtone that Kennedy had chosen. This one sounded like a wasp trapped in a jar.
Laura removed it from her purse, her fingers trembling. Tom, of course. Nobody else had this number.
She glanced up quickly, absurdly fearful that Jake might be able to see her and would somehow know what she was doing. But that was ridiculous. Besides, she wasnât doing anything wrong. Not really.
She looked down at the phoneâs screen, smiling when she saw that Tom had texted her a picture of a sign advertising a horse show in Hamilton.
The universe is working hard to make sure I see u everywhere,
heâd texted.
Are you competing in this show? I could come cheer u on.
Laura leaned her head back against the seat. She should stop this now. Text him to say it was over, then throw this phone into a Dumpster. This had been a fun, harmless, virtual flirtation over the past months, but she wasnât about to cheat on Jake.
Another text.
You there?
Laura dropped the phone into her bag and pulled out of the parking lot, panicked.
CHAPTER THREE
T heir second lunchâSarah refused to call it a âdate,â no matter how excited Rhonda looked as she waved them offâwas an even bigger mistake. She knew that as soon as Gil Mandel walked her out to his blue car, a stocky man wearing carefully pressed khakis and a navy blue polo shirt. He must have pressed those pants himself, since his wife had been dead a year, according to Rhonda.
But what choice did she have? Here was Gil in his neatly creased trousers, gallantly opening the door of his Subaru, so Sarah swept her camelâs wool coat beneath her legs and settled herself on the passenger seat. At least there were no crumbs or cans rolling around on the floor: she couldnât abide by any evidence of people eating in their cars.
They drove half an hour north to a restaurant on the water in Newburyport. Sarah had selected the place; she didnât want to meet anyone she knew. She loved a good Manhattan and felt immediately calmer when the drink was between her hands, despite noticing the water glasses were cloudy. Perhaps sheâd have a quiet word with the waitress and suggest that they use a rinsing agent in the
âBecause I love you too much,â Jake said, pressing her hand to his lips. âI would never do that to you.â
âI know,â she said, and kissed him.
Afterward, Laura had driven to her sisterâs apartment, breaking the speed limit even before leaving the driveway.
Anne had denied everything. She told a completely different version of events that Laura didnât buy for a minute. And catching them together two Christmases ago proved to Laura beyond a doubt that Anne couldnât be trusted with her husband.
Now Laura rose from the breakfast table and began methodically tidying the newspapers. Jake wouldnât just go off and see Anne, would he?
He might, if Anne was having some sort of crisis and thatâs what had brought her back to Folly Cove.
Laura loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and ran upstairs to get dressed. Fifteen minutes later, she was in the car and driving toward Jakeâs office in Gloucester. She needed to see for herself that his bicycle was actually there.
Laura drove the way she usually did, one hand on the wheel, the radio on loud, with no regard for speed. She knew these roads well enough to drive them blindfolded.
In less than fifteen minutes, she arrived at Jakeâs office building. It must have rained here last night; there were puddles as bright as mirrors all over the tarmac.
She pulled into the lot and sat there with the engine idling. Jakeâs bicycle was there, padlocked to the bike rack. He had been telling the truth! Her relief was colored by shame. She shouldnât have doubted him.
Her prepaid phone buzzed. She knew it was that phone because the other one was set to a jungle ringtone that Kennedy had chosen. This one sounded like a wasp trapped in a jar.
Laura removed it from her purse, her fingers trembling. Tom, of course. Nobody else had this number.
She glanced up quickly, absurdly fearful that Jake might be able to see her and would somehow know what she was doing. But that was ridiculous. Besides, she wasnât doing anything wrong. Not really.
She looked down at the phoneâs screen, smiling when she saw that Tom had texted her a picture of a sign advertising a horse show in Hamilton.
The universe is working hard to make sure I see u everywhere,
heâd texted.
Are you competing in this show? I could come cheer u on.
Laura leaned her head back against the seat. She should stop this now. Text him to say it was over, then throw this phone into a Dumpster. This had been a fun, harmless, virtual flirtation over the past months, but she wasnât about to cheat on Jake.
Another text.
You there?
Laura dropped the phone into her bag and pulled out of the parking lot, panicked.
CHAPTER THREE
T heir second lunchâSarah refused to call it a âdate,â no matter how excited Rhonda looked as she waved them offâwas an even bigger mistake. She knew that as soon as Gil Mandel walked her out to his blue car, a stocky man wearing carefully pressed khakis and a navy blue polo shirt. He must have pressed those pants himself, since his wife had been dead a year, according to Rhonda.
But what choice did she have? Here was Gil in his neatly creased trousers, gallantly opening the door of his Subaru, so Sarah swept her camelâs wool coat beneath her legs and settled herself on the passenger seat. At least there were no crumbs or cans rolling around on the floor: she couldnât abide by any evidence of people eating in their cars.
They drove half an hour north to a restaurant on the water in Newburyport. Sarah had selected the place; she didnât want to meet anyone she knew. She loved a good Manhattan and felt immediately calmer when the drink was between her hands, despite noticing the water glasses were cloudy. Perhaps sheâd have a quiet word with the waitress and suggest that they use a rinsing agent in the
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