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Ismay stared at the elegant white tablecloth. “And I almost married him,” she murmured.
“You’re a nice girl. I’m glad you didn’t. Now I’d better go. I just...wanted to let you know not to expect Remy to show up for breakfast.”
Ismay thanked him, then, stunned, sat at the table for several minutes after he left—until the waitress came by again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like another drink?”
“No, thank you. My plans have changed. I’ll take my check now.”
Once she received the bill, she paid it and hurried outside, where the sun felt reassuringly warm on her face.
Did he show?Another text from Bo.
No. I’m on my way back. And you’re not going to believe what I have to tell you, she wrote.
But she paused before walking the two blocks to the hotel. She wanted to take a second to text Annabelle; she had the number from when Remy’s mother had called her to advocate for Remy not too long ago.
Thank you.
EPILOGUE
One year later...
Bo sat back as the waiter brought his meal. He would’ve preferred a more casual restaurant than the upscale steakhouse in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. But Annabelle Windsor was staying in the hotel while she was in California, so it was convenient for her. Ever since Remy had been arrested, and Bo had finally reached out to tell her he admired her for making the right choice and knew how difficult it must’ve been, she’d stayed in touch with him by calling and texting occasionally. She’d even sent him a Christmas gift. Considering he’d lied about his background when he applied to take care of the cottage on Mariners, it was an unlikely relationship, and yet it seemed to be growing stronger over time. He could tell she was incredibly lonely and eager for true friendship—or maybe, as Ismay thought, she was hoping to fill the hole Remy had left in her life since he refused to have any contact with her now that he was at the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Facility in Lancaster, Massachusetts. When she came forward with the truth, the media coverage surrounding the case had dredged up far more alarming things than a bag of stolen underwear. Although the prosecutor was never able to prove that Remy had caused the death of Lyssa Helberg, three different women—one on Mariners, one in Brooklyn, and one in California—had accused Remy of drugging them before having sex with them.
When Annabelle first called Detective Livingston, she probably hadn’t expected her son to get any real prison time. She’d just felt she had to step forward to save Bastian, who was innocent. But the case grew very quickly, and it soon became apparent that the duffel bag Ismay had found was, indeed, evidence of a much bigger problem. Ismay still couldn’t believe she’d almost married Remy and often marveled over how her life would’ve gone if not for the storm that’d made her search his closet.
“Can I get you anything else at the moment?” the waiter asked after delivering their plates.
They both said they were fine, the waiter left, and Bo tasted his wild French sea bass. “This is delicious,” he said.
Annabelle smiled. “So’s my lobster ravioli. I’m glad you could meet me today. I’ve been anxious to hear the latest. How are you and Ismay doing?”
“Better than ever.”
“You’re still in that condo you rented with her brother in Burbank?”
“We are. It’s only a two-bedroom, so it’s not big, but with the prices in LA, we had to be careful. At least it’s not far from the beach, so the three of us have had a lot of fun, and it’s only temporary. Jack has plans to get his own place in the next year.”
“When you and Ismay get married...”
“Yeah. We haven’t set the date yet. We’re not in a huge hurry. At the moment, she and I are pooling our resources and putting them toward building her practice. But we’d like to have a baby in the next couple of years and plan to marry before then.”
She took a drink of her cappuccino. “Well, you know you’re welcome to come back to Mariners and use Windsor Cottage for your honeymoon, if you’d like. It hasn’t been easy to replace you—I still feel terrible for firing you—but I’ve finally found an older couple who are living in the bungalow, and they’re doing a decent job so far.”
“That’s a very nice offer, but Mariners might be a little weird for Ismay, considering the cottage’s connection to Remy.”
“Of course. I can certainly understand that.”
“Do you know how Honey’s doing?” He’d checked on her a few months ago and all was well, but he hadn’t done so lately.
“The neighbor? I think she’s doing fine. She’s already friends with the new caretakers.” She added some salt to her food. “What ever happened to Jack’s wife, by the way? Did she stay with Jessica?”
Bo was surprised she remembered so much of what he’d told her over the phone during the past twelve months. “They’re still together and seem to be happy. They moved to Salt Lake about three months ago and are more comfortable there. It’s only an hour away from Tremonton, so Jessica’s kids get to see their father and grandparents and cousins on a regular basis, but that hour makes a big difference when it comes to local attitudes and acceptance. She and Jack are officially divorced, and he’s starting to date a little, but he talks to her every once in a while. Despite everything, they’re friends.”
She speared a piece of lobster in her pasta with her fork. “Is Jack still working for the same building contractor you are?”
Bo swallowed a bite of wild rice. “He is, and we’ve had plenty of work.”
“Building homes in Santa Monica...”
