The Wedding Fling. Meg Maguire

that brown Bronx slush forgotten the second they’d lifted off, winter gloom eclipsed by the thrill of flying. He’d known from the moment his toes sank into the warm sand that he was going to live somewhere like that. Just a shitty little seaside town, but the best his dad had been able to afford. All Will had known was that for the first time since his mother took off, the world had seemed beautiful again.

      He wondered if Leigh had left some sad soul heartbroken in her wake. Will didn’t think so. She was an actress, maybe a decent one, but even a guy as simple as Will could sense the pain behind the performance. He wasn’t the type to pry or question, but he wanted answers from this stranger who’d managed to invite herself along on his evening. He was also a master of playing the free spirit himself, and if Leigh’s front was anything like his, he wondered what burdens it was designed to hide.