Their thoughts were in sync. Without exchanging a word, they avoided eye contact as she and her co-groomsman—not Matt Campion, thank God—led the wedding party down the aisle, where Will, in full dress uniform, awaited his bride. She quickly stepped aside, taking her place as maid of honor. The unfortunate placement put her in a direct line of sight with Will, but she studiously avoided his gaze.

It was almost as if she had dreamed the whole thing. Maybe she had. And maybe Will had been so drunk he didn’t remember that moment. The friendship-destroying moment that complicated everything between them.

She glared instead at Matt, sullen and cowardly, his black eye and swollen nose barely covered by poorly applied concealer. He hadn’t said a word. No apology. No admission of wrongdoing. What the hell gave some guys the idea that forcing women was okay?

When Sierra walked down the aisle, she was a fairy-tale princess, an utter romantic triumph in the dress Caroline had made for her. Gasps of wonder and sobs of emotion drifted from the congregation. Caroline felt as cold as a stone. She didn’t allow herself to feel a thing—not jealousy, not shame, not disappointment, not regret. Not happiness, either, but she forced herself to pretend.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, she hung back, letting everyone else hug and congratulate the happy couple. As she stood apart from the joyous celebration, her mind was filled with flashbacks of the three of them growing up together, the golden summers, the three musketeers, sharing adventures, sharing everything, promising they’d be friends forever.

At the reception, no one seemed to notice that she didn’t dance with the groom. She left without saying goodbye, the tires of her rental car spitting crushed oyster shells in her wake. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw the broad silhouette of a man, watching her go.

Part Six

Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

—Marilyn Monroe

Chapter 22

“I have a brilliant idea,” Sierra said, wandering into Caroline’s workshop and admiring the ready garments—beautiful rainwear, bagged and tagged for sale. Each piece featured the signature nautilus shell on the sleeve. And each piece represented hours of work and stress. Amy, from the Sewing Circle, had eagerly agreed to make the deliveries to the boutiques that had agreed to sell the goods, in Long Beach, Astoria, Portland, and Seattle.

“What’s your brilliant idea?”

“Let’s get hammered.”

Caroline pushed away from her workstation, which she’d hastily cobbled together with an old door and two file cabinets. She and Ilsa, a web designer, had been setting up her e-commerce website. “What? Hammered? Nobody does that anymore.” She peered at her friend and at Ilsa. “Do they? Do you?”

“Nah,” said Ilsa. “I used to, but not anymore. Not since . . . well, you know.” Caroline knew Ilsa was referring to the groping incident she’d related at the Sewing Circle meeting. “I’m going to call it a day. You two have fun.”

“I don’t usually drink,” Sierra said. “Too many calories. But tonight is special.”

After Ilsa left, Caroline looked at her friend. Her pretty, troubled friend. “Are you celebrating something? Or lamenting something?”

“Both,” Sierra said. “That’s what makes it so special. That’s why I need to drink. Come over to my place.”

Caroline hesitated. She was in an uncomfortable spot with Sierra and Will. She was friends with each of them, friends with both of them. And there were secrets between them all.

“Come on,” Sierra cajoled. “I need some girlfriend time.”

“I’ll come up for a bit. I won’t get hammered, though. I have to drive.”

“Well, at least have a couple of shots with me, for old times’ sake.”

Doing shots was not Caroline’s friend. Whether Sierra realized it or not, having too much to drink years before had caused the breakdown of their friendship.

“What about Will?” she asked. “Will he join the festivities?”

“He won’t be home for hours.” Sierra dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “He’s got a committee meeting, and then he’s going to the lumber supply to pick up a load of boards for the oyster shed. My busy, busy husband.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Perfect time to do it,” Sierra said. “Otherwise he’d have to spend it with me.”

Caroline tried not to read too much into the comment as she stepped into the foyer. Water’s Edge was a beautiful home, so lovingly restored. Yet Sierra didn’t seem happy at all. “I’ll have two shots with you—one for the celebration and one for the lamentation.”

“Fair enough.” Sierra led the way back to the kitchen.

Caroline looked around in wonder. “It’s finished.”

“Pretty much. Will and Kurt added all the finishing touches last weekend.”

“Oh, Sierra. It’s fantastic.” She took a moment to check out the airy, light-filled space. The house’s old-world charm was on display even though it had been fully modernized. “Did you design it yourself?”

She lined up a bottle of tequila, salt, lime, and shot glasses. “Me? Heck, no. We have a kitchen designer, Padma Sen. She’s really good. Has a huge crush on Will. Just like everyone else.”

Caroline cut the lime into wedges, keeping her focus on the sharp knife blade. “Everyone else?”

“It’s like I told you—Will is incredible. I married a unicorn.” She poured two generous shots.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s a thing.”

They tapped glasses, licked the salt, and downed the shots, chasing them with lime wedges. Caroline savored the salty, tart flavors along with the heady burn of alcohol.

“Now then,” she said, “assuming you can still speak after that—what are we toasting?”

Sierra settled onto one of the country chic barstools. “I got a job offer from Nordstrom.”

“That’s . . . great?” Caroline couldn’t quite read her friend’s expression.

“I used to get tons of modeling gigs there. Now I’ve aged out of the role.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve seen too much of that in the industry. So they want you back?”

“As a producer, not a model. And not just a producer—the producer. As in, the entire shoot will be managed by yours truly.”

“Holy crap, that is great. Seriously—great.” A producer was tasked with supervising catalog and website shoots, everything from scouting locations to planning the travel and managing the scouts, stylists, set designers—the whole process. She studied Sierra’s face again. “Is this the good news or the bad news?”

“It’s the dilemma. I’ll be away half the time. Maybe more. It’ll be like Will’s navy deployment, only in reverse. I’ll be the one leaving. And instead of defending our nation, I’ll be on tropical beach shoots in the winter and mountain resorts in the summer.”

“It sounds amazing, except for the separation part.”