thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
—Isaiah 43:2
To my siblings: Mary Ellen, Shirlee, Beth and Jonathan.
For showing up on my doorstep when I needed you most.
I love you.
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It wasn’t the first time anyone had been stood up at the altar, but it would be the only time Natalie Harper was.
She was perfectly capable of being happy alone, and she would be.
Inhaling the briny sea air, she stared hard into the darkening sunset along the horizon, willing herself not to give in to the flood of humiliation that kept pressing in on her. Plenty of women had walked this same path before her. Thousands of dollars and months of planning wasted on a romantic waterside ceremony and festive reception—and no groom in attendance. But she was probably one of only a renegade few who dared to flee the aftermath and embark on a solo honeymoon. It felt just a little bit selfish now that she was lying on a pristine beach, the sky painted vibrant colors as the sun set along the Riviera Maya.
Night was falling quickly, and up and down the beach, most people had already deserted their loungers and cabanas and headed back to their hotels. Natalie knew she should, too. She twisted around to scan her surroundings, to assure herself she was truly alone. The nearby loungers sat empty, dilapidated sand castles the only sign that anyone had been there at all. The scene should have been peaceful, but the darkness beyond made her uneasy. Staring hard into the shadows, Natalie saw no signs of movement, nothing to account for the goose bumps rising on her arms.
Turning back to the fading sun, she reasoned with herself that her uneasiness was a product of fear, not proof of a lurker in the shadows. She’d fought that anxiety for close to twenty years now, and she knew it well. She forced herself to relax again and try to enjoy the solace, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy solitude or beach vacations.
Her fiancé had chosen the location, and Natalie had gone along with the plan. If she’d had her way, they would have rented a cabin somewhere along the Shenandoah River, hiked quiet wooded paths and just enjoyed being together.
She didn’t often get her way, though, and reserved her battles for the issues that truly mattered—right versus wrong, life versus death, milk chocolate versus dark.
In the end, a resort in Mexico versus a cabin in Virginia wasn’t an argument worth having, so she’d let it go.
And then... Kyle Paxton had let her go.
She stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She had seven more days to process all that had happened and decide how to move on. Tonight, she didn’t want to think.
She didn’t want to think about her string of failed relationships or Kyle’s poorly timed cold feet. She didn’t want to think about facing her family’s well-meaning sympathy, returning the mountain of wedding gifts waiting for her at home or unpacking her lonely boxed-up apartment. Taking a sip of her now-lukewarm
