Some Kind of Wonderful. Sarah Morgan

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long as the basics include soda, I’m happy.” Brittany eyed the bags gratefully, hoping they were full of food that didn’t require two hands to prepare. “You’re a friend in a million.”

      “So are you.” Emily piled the bags on the table. “I can’t ever repay you for letting me use this place. You saved me. And Lizzy. We owe you so much.”

      “You don’t owe me anything. And talking of friends, I’m guessing Ryan knows Zach is back?”

      “Yes.” Emily pushed milk and cheese into the fridge. “Like I said, you weren’t here and it’s not as if Zach has a habit of sticking around.”

      “You’re talking to the woman he married and then left less than two weeks after so I know exactly how long he generally sticks around.” It annoyed her that she felt so unsettled. So what if he was back? She’d hurt and healed. It was in the past. And although the past fascinated her so much she’d made it her career, that fascination didn’t extend to her own history.

      “Are you mad with us for not telling you?”

      “I’m so churned up inside I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Brittany sighed and shook her head. “No, of course I’m not mad. In your position I wouldn’t have told me, either.”

      “It seemed like the right decision at the time, but it seems like the wrong one now.”

      “Yeah, well, I know all about that, too. I married Zach thinking it was the right decision and look how that turned out.”

      Emily was still unloading food. “Did you eat on the flight? I can cook you something. I bought eggs, and a fresh loaf from the bakery.”

      “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” She felt as if her stomach was doing gymnastics.

      “You have to eat something.” Emily handed her a bag. “Here. Blueberry muffins I baked fresh this morning.”

      “Seriously?” Brittany peered into the bag and sniffed. “Since when do you cook?”

      “Since I inherited a six-year-old girl. I have also learned to braid hair, make pasta necklaces and fix torn fairy wings. And before you accuse me of gender bias, I should tell you I’m also skilled at making pirate maps complete with tea stains and authentically burned edges, and last weekend I bought her a bow and arrow. A child’s version, obviously.”

      Brittany felt a flash of guilt. “I haven’t even asked how you’re both doing. Your life went to hell and I wasn’t here and now I am here I’m talking about myself. I’m the most selfish friend in the world. Skylar updated me on your recent crisis. The journalist? Bastard. Why would they go after a child?”

      “Because the whereabouts of the daughter of a dead movie star are apparently of public interest.”

      Brittany nibbled the corner of the muffin. “So they came here and tried to trick the islanders into revealing information.”

      “Which they didn’t, of course, because the islanders were amazing. Ryan was amazing.” Emily’s cheeks turned a deep shade of rose and Brittany looked at her closely.

      “I can’t believe you’re saying that. The first night you arrived you left me a message saying you were on the first ferry out of here. You were threatening to head somewhere landlocked like Wyoming or Nebraska. I know you hate the sea. What happened?”

      “I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would.”

      “There’s something different about you.”

      “This red shirt is new. Sky chose it.”

      “It’s flattering. Better than your usual black. But that’s not what I’m seeing. You mentioned you had something to tell me. So tell me.”

      “Today is about you, not me.”

      “I need to be distracted from the pain in my wrist and my compelling need to kill my ex. Talk. And I want detail, including the brilliant sex I’m fairly sure you’re getting.”

      Emily gave a choked laugh. “What makes you think that?”

      “You’re glowing and happy. You’ve lost that white, pinched look you always had when you were with miserable Neil. I didn’t see it immediately, mostly because I was focused on escaping from Zach, but you’ve changed.”

      “That’s ridiculous. It’s just a shirt.”

      “I’m not talking about the shirt. Your hair is different. A little shorter and you’re wearing it loose.”

      “There’s a new hairdresser up at the harbor. Her name is Hanna. Lisa and I wanted to give her some business, that’s all.”

      “She’s good. Maybe I’ll book myself in. I believe in supporting new businesses on the island.” Brittany studied her friend. “You look happy. I’m relieved. I was worried. I felt helpless being so far away when you were going through hell. And Sky was stuck in Manhattan with the soon-to-be senator who suffered a sense-of-humor failure at birth. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Ryan.”

      “I’m glad you did.”

      “I didn’t give him details, just asked him to keep an eye on you.” Contemplating her friend’s dreamy expression, Brittany laughed. “I’m guessing he kept a very, very close eye on you. Next time I need to be more specific in my brief. I asked him to support you, not seduce you. Not that there’s anything wrong with comfort sex and I’m sure Ryan was very good at that side of things.”

      Emily placed fruit in the bowl in the center of the table. “It’s a bit more than comfort sex.”

      “How much more?”

      “We like each other.”

      “Of course. You went to bed with him. You’d never go to bed with a man you didn’t like.”

      “Love.” Emily stumbled over the word. “I love him. He loves me. And if there was a seduction, it was mutual.”

      Brittany hid her surprise. “Love terrifies you.” And she understood why. She, like Skylar, knew all of Emily’s secrets. “It always has.”

      “Yes. But that was before Ryan.”

      “Well—wow.” Brittany felt warmth burn out the chill inside her. Love wasn’t something that had worked out for her, nor had it worked out for her parents, but it was great seeing it work out for her friends, especially Emily who had avoided that emotion since childhood. “Seems like we have a lot of catching up to do. We should invite Sky for the weekend. Bottle of chilled wine, pajamas and full confessions all round. It will be just like old times.”

      “Sounds good.”

      Brittany watched as her friend pushed her hair back—hair she’d habitually worn secured to the back of her head but which now swung loose around her shoulders. “So is Ryan the reason you’re no longer living in my cottage?”

      “He asked us to move in with him. We’re living in Harbor House.”

      “His old family home?

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