Every day she walked along the beach as far as she could go, sometimes for a couple of hours. She’d lounge on a chaise on the beach and soak up the sun, sometimes relax under a cabana, her eyes closed so she looked as if she was napping. Resting. But she was bleeding inside. If anyone looked closely, they’d catch the occasional tear rolling into the hair at her temples. The crying—it was so much more than she’d imagined it could be. She was so busy holding it together while she was around her uncle and cousin, she’d had no idea how much emotion she’d been struggling with. The crying started as soon as the plane’s landing gear came up and in spite of her best efforts, she sobbed half the way to Hawaii. Luck was on her side and she was seated next to a kindhearted older woman who put an arm around her and said, “Oh, darling, there’s no mistaking a broken heart.”
The best fiction in the history of the world had not adequately conveyed just how much a broken heart could hurt or how much crying was involved. It was a kind of death made worse by the fact that there hadn’t been a death at all, unless you accounted for the demise of perfect happiness.
“Beautiful day,” a man’s voice said.
She turned her head to see him sitting on the chaise right beside her. There were dozens of available chairs on the beach and around the pool and yet he had to choose this one. “Beautiful,” she said quietly, turning her head back, trying to ignore him.
“I hear it rains here all the time. Have you seen much rain?”
“Please,” she said. “I was napping.”
“Think you’ll be done napping by dinnertime? I’d love to take you to dinner.”
She turned her head, lifted her glasses and said, “No, thank you.” Again she turned away.
“Then maybe I could buy you a drink? A mai tai or Bloody Mary?”
Without looking at him she said, “Do I have to move? Or will you?”
He chuckled. “Nothing shy about that, Shelby.”
She jumped in surprise, sitting up a little. “Did someone tell you my name?” she said, stricken. The last thing she needed right now was to feel at some kind of risk. She was alone here, depending on the hotel staff to be sure she’d be completely safe.
“No,” he said. “I already knew your name. I asked where I could find you. They’re very protective here, but when I described you, the towel kid knew where you might be.”
She sat up, her mouth open.
He put out a hand. “Aiden Riordan,” he said. “How are you?”
Stunned speechless, she slowly put out her hand. He was a nice-looking man, but didn’t resemble either Sean or Luke. He was dark-haired with heavy black brows, green eyes like his mother’s and a very pleasant smile. “The doctor?”
“OB-GYN, in fact. Nice to meet you.”
“What…？ What in the world are you doing here?”
He gave a slight shrug. “I thought someone ought to explain Luke, if that’s possible.”
Still in something of a state of shock, she sat sideways on the chaise, facing him, her feet in the sand. “Did he send you?”
“Oh, no.” Aiden laughed. “In fact, when he finds out, it’s gonna be ugly. And maybe this was just a waste of my time, but I have a feeling there are some important things you don’t know about him. On the other hand, I’ll bet you know things about him I don’t even want to hear.”
“Oh, this is…this is crazy!”
“Tell me about it. We have some loudmouths in the family, but it’s kind of unusual for the boys to get into each other’s business to this degree. Luke’s kind of a special case, though.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, did he ever happen to mention he was married when he was much younger?” Aiden asked.
It took her a moment to absorb that. “Well, that would explain a few things,” she finally said.
“The explanation gets more complicated. You’ve probably heard a hundred nasty divorce tales, but this one combined a lot of events that worked out badly for Luke, and I think it’s safe to say he’s got some residual effect from it.”
She looked down. “I guess he didn’t trust me that much,” she said. “Or he might’ve told me.”
“It has nothing to do with trust, Shelby. He was trying damn hard to keep from getting too close to you. It didn’t quite work for him—you should see him. He looks like a dead man, he’s so miserable.”
She scooted forward. “When did you see him?”