Dakota Born. Debbie Macomber

set the leather-bound book aside and stared sightlessly out her apartment window. But it wasn’t the landscape she saw; it was her future.

      Monte was never going to marry her.

      She should have recognized it two years ago, and hadn’t. She realized it was because she so desperately wanted to be his wife, wanted to have a family with him. She loved him, and wasn’t marriage supposed to be the natural outcome of loving a man? But she’d allowed herself to see what she’d hoped to see. She’d allowed herself to believe she could convince him.

      Monte hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t misled her. From the beginning, he’d told her he wasn’t interested in marriage. He loved her, he said, but his divorce several years earlier had devastated him and he’d vowed not to repeat the experience. He’d never indicated in any way that he might change his mind. Lindsay knew there was only one person to blame for her unhappiness—and it wasn’t Monte.

      Soon—maybe six months—after their relationship had begun, she’d left him because he’d been adamant on the subject of marriage. He’d persuaded her to come back and she had, foolishly believing that eventually he’d change his mind and see things the way she did.

      It hadn’t happened.

      The phone rang and Lindsay glanced at the caller ID, relieved and at the same time depressed to see that it wasn’t his number.

      “Hello,” she mumbled into the phone.

      “It’s Maddy.”

      “I know.”

      “Hey, it’s a beautiful summer afternoon and you sound like you’ve just lost your best friend. However, I know that can’t be the case, ‘cause I’m your best friend.”

      Lindsay sighed, wondering why Maddy had to seem so carefree and happy when her own world was falling apart. “Nothing’s wrong. Let me amend that. Nothing’s wrong that hasn’t been wrong for the past two years.”

      “Ah, then this has to do with Monte. What happened?”

      “Nothing.” That much was true. “Monte and I went out to dinner last night and took a romantic ride in a horse-drawn carriage around Chippewa Square. The magnolias were blooming and Maddy … it was perfect. Until—”

      “Until what?”

      Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut because even saying the words caused her pain. “Until I made the mistake of mentioning the future. The way he reacted, you’d think that was a dirty word. The next thing I knew, he was angry with me and we were arguing. And then I saw what I should have recognized all along—Monte is never going to marry me.”

      At first Maddy said nothing. “Are you breaking it off?”

      “Yes … I already did. It’s over, Maddy.”

      “You don’t sound absolutely certain of that.”

      “No, I mean it this time. Nothing he says is going to convince me to change my mind. I refuse to do this to myself any more.”

      “He told you from the very beginning that he wasn’t going to get married again.”

      “I know, I know.”

      “I’m surprised you haven’t moved in with him. I know that’s what he wants.”

      But Lindsay realized now that even if she had, there still wouldn’t have been any commitment, any permanence. She’d actually considered living with him, and felt only relief that she hadn’t gone through with it. His feelings wouldn’t have changed—and her own anguish would’ve been that much worse.

      “So you broke it off for good?”

      “It’s over, Maddy. It’s time I opened my eyes and faced reality. I refuse to put my life on hold any longer.”

      “Way to go!” Then Maddy sobered. “I know it’s hard, but …”

      While in high school, they’d frequently had sleepovers and lain awake talking about the men they’d marry. It’d all seemed so simple back then, and here they were, both nearly thirty and not a husband in sight.

      “Remember when we were teenagers?” Lindsay couldn’t keep from thinking about all those silly schoolgirl dreams.

      Maddy snorted inelegantly. “We were what you’d call romantic idiots.”

      Lindsay shrugged wordlessly. It wasn’t as though either of them thought marriage was essential to a woman’s existence. But they both craved the closeness of a good marriage and the joys of having children. Maddy, at least, had an excuse. As a social worker for the state of Georgia, she worked long hours, looking out for the welfare of others. Almost all the overtime she put in was voluntary. Several nights a week, after work, she taught parenting classes for Project Family, a community-based organization. In addition, she mentored several troubled teenagers. Maddy wanted to save the world and she had a heart big enough to do it.

      Lindsay had no such ambition. Following her high-school graduation, she’d gone to college at the University of Georgia and roomed with Maddy for four years. Her degree was in French—a lot of good that had done her—with a minor in education. After graduation, she’d drifted from one job to another. The closest she’d come to using her French had been a summer job at the perfume counter in an upscale department store.

      There’d been a few opportunities to employ her language skills—teaching conversational French to tourists, translating business documents—but nothing that felt right. Then, almost four years ago, the woman who worked in the accounting office of her uncle Mike’s huge furniture store in Savannah had gotten sick and Lindsay had filled in. When Mrs. Hudson hadn’t returned, Lindsay had taken over permanently.

      “One day my prince will come.” Maddy’s voice sang its way through the telephone line. “And so will yours …”

      After college, both girls had been twenty-three, and it seemed as if they had all the time in the world to find their soul mates. Now, seven years later, Lindsay had given up counting the number of weddings in which she and Maddy had served as bridesmaids. Ten, possibly more, so many that it had become a joke between them. Periodically Maddy would suggest a joint yard sale just to get rid of all the pastel satin dresses. Maybe their luck would finally change, she’d say with a laugh.

      Then, a little more than two years ago, Lindsay’s luck did change. Monte Turner had come to work as a salesman for her uncle. The minute they were introduced, Lindsay had fallen for him. Within a month she’d broken off her relationship with Chuck Endicott, which had never been more than a casual involvement. She hadn’t dated anyone but Monte since.

      She’d loved Monte, still did, but a two-year relationship had proved that he didn’t want the same things out of life as she did. He wasn’t interested in children, and the word commitment sent him running for cover. Lindsay had spent her entire life dreaming of both.

      “Listen,” Maddy said excitedly. “My boss insisted I take two weeks off. She’s afraid I’m going to burn out if I don’t get away. So, as of next Friday, I’m on vacation.”

      “Vacation.” Lindsay couldn’t help being envious.

      “Come with me,” Maddy urged. “You need to escape as much as I do.”

      Lindsay was tempted.

      “If you’re serious about breaking it off with Monte, then make it quick and clean. Dragging it out isn’t going to do either of you any good.”

      Maddy was right and Lindsay instinctively knew it. “Where do you want to go? Europe?” Two weeks in Paris sounded heavenly.

      “I can’t afford that,” Maddy said. Social workers were notoriously underpaid.

      “What about a couple of weeks on St. Simons Island?” As one of the Golden Isles off the Georgia coast, St. Simons was a prime resort location.

      “Paris is cheaper, for