What?

Why would you mention his hands?

I flushed immediately when Cooper looked at me, eyes bright with amusement and not a little bit of flirtation. “You have no idea.”

And . . . mini orgasm.

Andrew cleared his throat in an attempt to break the staring match between me and Cooper. It worked. I turned to him, shamefaced.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he said.

No.

“Cooper Lawson.” Cooper held out his hand to him.

Andrew stared at it a moment and I swore right then I’d slap him across the head if he didn’t take Coop’s hand. I sighed inwardly when he did. “Dr. Andrew Livingston.”

I saw Cooper visibly tense before he shot me a now very not amused look out of the corner of his eye. I felt guilty even though I hadn’t invited Andrew to Hartwell.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Andrew said, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “But Jessica and I really need to be going.”

I allowed him to lead me away, guilt churning in my stomach. That feeling only worsened when I looked back to find Cooper staring after us. And he was definitely not a happy handyman.

As Andrew and I strolled back to the inn I had to fight the urge to run back to Cooper, to explain, even though I knew it was for the best if he started to hate me.

But I didn’t want him to hate me.

Yet he was probably back there fixing those steps, frustrated with me, while other women drooled over him. They were probably all way less complicated than I was and—

Stop!

I was in knots. And it had to stop. First I had to deal with Andrew.

“Why are you really here?” I finally got up the courage to ask as we walked up the porch steps to the inn.

He pushed open the door but stopped to face me as we stood inside the empty reception area. “It’s time we changed our relationship. Into an actual relationship. No more messing around, Jessica. This time apart has given me perspective. We’re getting too old for our ridiculous behavior. It’s time to settle down.”

The thought made me feel equal amounts of panic and irritation. It was just like him to make this momentous decision without me.

I’d just opened my mouth to say so when Bailey came hurrying in from the dining area. “Mona is going to cover for me this evening so I thought you, Tom, and I could take Andrew out for drinks at Cooper’s.”

The thought made my stomach churn. I glowered at Bailey. Why was she doing this? “I don’t think—”

“I need a scotch after the day I’ve had,” Andrew said, apparently not registering Cooper’s name in what she’d said. “Why don’t we take a nap before that?”

As in sex.

Nope.

I just couldn’t, I realized.

“Why don’t you go nap”—I handed him my room key—“and I’ll meet you back here in a bit. I promised I’d help Emery out with something at her store.”

I was gone before he could protest.

In fact, I’d never moved quicker in my life.

While I was pulling my phone out of my purse, I noted that the gift store owned by Bailey’s friend was open. It hadn’t been open that morning when I’d passed.

Dahlia must be back.

As soon as I could, I really wanted to meet her. Bailey spoke so highly of her.

Except you are leaving soon. So why does it matter?

Slipping my shoes off, I walked down from the boards onto the beach. I didn’t stop until I’d found a quiet spot on the south end of the mile, away from the view of the inn and from other tourists.

I sat down on the sand and pressed speed-dial number 1 on my phone.

After a few rings, Matthew picked up. “Jess, everything okay, sweetheart?”

I immediately relaxed at his voice. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I’m just finishing up for the day. You don’t sound so good. What happened? Last time we spoke you were having a great time.”

“What if being a doctor doesn’t actually make me happy? What if I’ve just convinced myself it does? What do I do?”

“Oh, God, Jess . . . I’ve told you before . . . you do what makes you happy.”

“Isn’t it ridiculous, though, to be questioning this at thirty-three years old?” I laughed at the absurdity of it. “I feel so fucking lost, Matthew.”

He was silent for a while and then: “You’ve been lost for a long time, Jessica.”

The mere mention of the past made me clam up. I didn’t talk about it, not even with Matthew, the only person who knew the truth.

He sighed at my silence. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I need to know,” I said, the words coming without me even realizing it was what I was going to say, “that if I decide to start over somewhere new, you won’t think that’s crazy. Because right now I feel crazy even considering it.”

“Okay . . . are we talking about starting over in Hartwell?”

I shrugged and then remembered I was on the phone and he couldn’t see me. “Maybe. I guess what’s important is that I’ve come to realize I’m not happy in Wilmington. I keep fighting with that truth . . . except it is the truth. I thought things were going the way they should”—the way I deserved—“but maybe it’s time to grow the fuck up and live the life I want, right?”

“Yes,” he said vehemently. “God, yes, Jess.”

“I mean, I hate the idea of leaving the women in the prison, because I’m a good doctor to them.”