Later, after Emma was asleep under her star-patterned duvet, Julian and I sat on the back patio with two glasses of wine, the tide coming in, the cool Atlantic breeze moving through the pines.

He took my hand across the small table, his thumb tracing my knuckles.

“Do you ever think about that night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“When Marcus said leaving you was the smartest thing he ever did?” I looked out at the dark water, at the moon laid across it, and felt the deep and unshakable peace that filled every corner of my life now.

“He was actually right,” I said.