“Delicious,” she said, taking another sip.

“The article, I mean.”

She turned the magazine so he could see. The main image was a dramatic shot of the neo-Gothic courthouse surrounded by six harshly lit, glowering models, looking like a predator’s worst nightmare. The exposé had been written by Becky Barrow. Caroline had met her as Orson Maynard’s intern. Now she was a star reporter, making a name for herself by exposing exploitation in the fashion industry.

Caroline laid the magazine open so they could both look. “Hard to read,” she said. “It’s horrible to think about what he did, what he got away with for so long. I’m glad it’s over now, but I hate that it happened. And to so many.”

In addition to the women who had shown up at the courthouse, there were others, more than she’d imagined—models and assistants and interns and underlings who were initially dazzled by Mick’s affable manner and talent, and later in private discovered his violent nature. They described his abuse in painstaking detail. They stepped out of the shadows with stories of wild parties, bullying, sexual assault.

Mick Taylor was swept out to sea like so many other men who had used their status and power to prey upon women. And like those men, he would soon be washed into the depths of obscurity. Initially he’d attempted to shrug off the accusations. Then, with a non-apology to “those who may feel wronged by me,” he headed to rehab in Sedona. As the storm against him gathered force, he was deserted by all his famous friends. His brand collapsed like a house of cards in the wind. The mounting evidence made it clear that he was facing a barrage of civil suits from his victims, along with criminal charges and prison time. As Willow had predicted, he had willingly surrendered his paternal rights to Addie and Flick.

During their interview for the exposé, Becky had asked Caroline how it felt to bring him down. “I didn’t bring him down,” Caroline was quoted as saying. “The truth brought him down.” It felt strange, seeing her own words framed as a pull quote on the page.

“It’s an exoneration for you,” Will pointed out as he finished reading the article.

“I don’t care about being exonerated,” Caroline said. “I just want to be done. I just want to move on with my life, be a mom to these kids and try to get my business back on its feet.”

He set her coffee mug on the nightstand and folded the paper. “And I just want to marry you,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

She pushed back and gaped at him. “Stop it.”

“Not exactly the answer I’m hoping for.”

“Will.” She studied his face, every line and angle and plane familiar and beloved and longed for. “Don’t you dare kid around.”

“Me? A kidder?” He touched his hand to his heart. “Caroline Shelby, I love everything about you. The way you laugh at my stupid jokes and the way you cry when something touches your heart. The way you talk all the time without stopping and still manage to listen. The way you create designs out of nothing but imagination. The way you take joy in Addie and Flick even though you say you’re scared. You’re all I think about. You’re everything I want. You and your kids and your little dog, too. And sweet Jesus, I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

Her own heart nearly exploded. She was too overwhelmed to speak. If she said yes, it would change the course of her life. She pictured herself here at Water’s Edge, in this house that was filled with hand-carved woodwork and ancient family treasures. She pictured Addie and Flick playing with the dogs, following Will around, finding the adventures that awaited them in the woods, the bay and the seashore, the lighthouses and little villages strung along the peninsula.

She pictured forever with him. The wild excitement felt like a panic attack.

“You’re not saying anything,” he pointed out.

“Give me a minute, okay?”

“Yes, sure.” He let go of her and opened the top drawer of his nightstand. “Just so you know, I have a ring.”

“What?” She couldn’t breathe.

He opened a small box, revealing a band of figured gold set with a square-cut diamond. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “I’ve been saving it for you.”

Once again, she was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She couldn’t speak, nor could she take her eyes off him as she took in the moment, heartbeat by heartbeat. He was the person who had defined love for her, decades before, when she was too young to understand its power. It was the best feeling in the world, raw and powerful, beautiful and devastating, a rush of blood to the head. He had unknowingly set the standard for what she understood love was supposed to be like.

Every relationship she’d had afterward was measured against the love she imagined she would have had with Will—if only. She knew she was idealizing something that had never existed. If it had actually happened, life would have interfered. It might not have lasted. It might have worn thin.

“Caroline?” A crease appeared on his brow. “If the ring’s too old-fashioned, I could—”

“Hush,” she managed to say. “The ring is perfect.” She’d barely glanced at it. “Just listen. There’s something I need to tell you.” She took both his hands between both of hers. “Will Jensen, I’ve loved you for as long as life. I didn’t even know how to talk about love until I talked to you. I was thirteen years old when I fell in love with you. It was the truest love I’d ever felt. I’ve been waiting for this day since I first laid eyes on you. But I never thought it was meant to be. So I’ve spent half my life teaching myself not to love you. Not to want something I could never have.”

“That was then. Everything’s different now. This is about you, Caroline. You and me. And if I’m not mistaken, you just admitted you’re in love with me.”

“Since the beginning of time.”

Somehow the ring slipped onto her finger. And Will asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was afraid. I didn’t know if I could—if we could go from being friends to being a couple.”

“Yeah?” He gently traced his finger along her collarbone, following it with his lips. “We’re doing okay in that department.”

She could barely think straight when he touched her like this. “Uh-huh . . .”

“So now?”

“Oh, Will. Now it’s all yes. Yes to all of this. Forever yes.”

Epilogue

“The flower girl is missing.”

Georgia’s worried statement cut through the babble in the bride’s getting-ready room adjacent to the restaurant.

Caroline swiveled around on her stool at the vanity, dropping an eyelash curler and probably creating a dark smudge across her cheek. “What? Where’s Addie? How could she be missing?”

“I don’t know—maybe with a hundred wedding guests arriving in the pouring rain, she wandered away and no one noticed.”

“Oh my gosh, Addie.” Caroline rushed for the door.

Georgia planted herself in the doorway. “Oh no you don’t. I’ve got a search party looking for her right now. You need to finish getting ready.”

“I can’t even finish breathing until I know where Addie went. What if she wanders out into traffic? Is she lost in the dunes? On the beach, for chrissake? What if she’s wet and scared somewhere?”

Virginia raised the window blind and gestured out at the parking lot. “It’s like a dragnet out there. Look at them all.”

The tux-clad brothers and ushers fanned out across the parking lot in all directions. The raised black umbrellas looked like a Magritte painting. A vast white pavilion was set up in the event area of Star of the Sea, sheltering the rows of chairs from the thick drizzle that persisted as the guests arrived for the ceremony.

“She’s probably at the banquet table, sampling the wedding cake,” Virginia added.

Georgia brought Caroline back to the vanity. “Sit,” she commanded. “Let Ilsa do her thing.”

Ilsa had a deft hand with makeup. And with Caroline as well. Instead of attacking her with foundation and highlighter, she took Caroline’s hands. “Breathe,” she said. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Fern, get over here,” Virginia said. “I need to do your hair.”

Caroline’s niece could barely sit still. She spun around on a stool. “You look like a princess, Aunt Caroline. A legit princess.”

Caroline’s gown was dead simple—a gorgeous swath of watered silk that spilled from a stylized nautilus shell cutaway in back. The design was her own, but it had been constructed and sewn by Echo Sanders, now one of her best friends.

“Found her,” Will called from the doorway. He held Addie in his arms. Flick stood beside him. “She was in the back seat of the car, sound asleep.” He placed a kiss on the little girl’s nose. “Just like you were the first time I saw you.”

“Don’t look at the bride,” Fern shrieked. “It’s bad luck if you see the bride!”

“Not looking,” Will said, handing Addie to Georgia.