Chapter 1 — Look Who Survived

Five years after my divorce, my ex-husband looked me straight in the eye at my cousin’s wedding and said, “Leaving you was the smartest thing I ever did.” Thirty seconds later, a little girl threw herself into my arms, and his face went so pale I thought he might collapse.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Until the moment I heard that familiar laugh behind me, I had been doing perfectly well ignoring Marcus Mercer.

The reception glittered beneath crystal chandeliers at the Grand Harrington Hotel, just outside Boston.

I had finished congratulating my cousin, and was making my quiet way toward the edge of the room, when I heard him, a laugh I had once known better than my own heartbeat, and turned, and there he was.

He looked almost exactly as I remembered: the tailored tuxedo, the expensive watch, the confidence that had always bordered on cruelty.

And clinging to his arm was Chloe Vance.

The woman I had found, five years earlier, standing barefoot in my own kitchen, wearing Marcus’s shirt.

Chloe’s mouth curved the instant she saw me.

“Well,” she said.

“Look who survived.” And I smiled, because I had learned, in five years, that a smile is the most disarming thing you can offer a person who has come prepared for your tears.

“Good evening, Chloe,” I said.

Chapter 2 — I Moved

Marcus studied my simple navy dress, taking his time about it, and laughed under his breath, the old laugh, the one that had spent our whole marriage telling me I was not quite enough.

“I heard you disappeared after the divorce,” he said.

“I moved.” “Same difference.” And Chloe touched his chest, possessively, staking her small claim in front of me.

“Marcus was worried you’d never recover,” she said.