Island Of Second Chances. Cara Lockwood

losing her baby.

      He took a swig of beer and glanced up at the star-filled sky. Then, he glanced back at her. “So? Go on. Tell me about your day. It had to be bad for you to suck down that beer so fast. What’s driven you to drink?”

      “Oh. You don’t want to hear about my problems.” She couldn’t imagine he’d be the least bit interested.

      “Actually, I would,” he said, leaning back in his deck chair and getting comfortable as he stretched his long, tanned legs out in front of him. “I’m bored to death of my own problems. I need a change of pace.”

      “Well...” Laura hesitated. Was she really going to pour her heart out to a stranger she barely knew? Tell him secrets she’d not even told her closest friends in San Francisco who had no idea about the baby or Dean? “I don’t know. Most of my friends don’t even know what’s been going on. It’s not the kind of thing I can really share.”

      “Okay,” he said, setting his beer down by the leg of his chair. “Let’s break this down. So you’re here for how long?”

      “A month. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly made a plan.” She shrugged. She’d never imagine she’d be on such an open-ended trip before. But then again, she’d never imagined she’d have an affair, either. Life was full of surprises.

      He raised his eyebrows. “Miss Noise Pollution doesn’t have a plan? I have to say, I’m surprised.”

      “Why?”

      “I thought you’d have your whole life planned out in one of those—what do they call them? Day riders? Runners? Calendar whatevers?”

      “I like calendar whatevers, and no, I don’t.” Actually, she used to. Not that she had a physical calendar she carried around, but her online calendar was extensive. She even used to put major milestones in it, like ask for a raise, or look for a new job with more responsibilities. She’d been that odd job candidate who relished answering the question, what’s your five-year plan? She always had an answer.

      Now? Not so much.

      “I used to be a planner,” she admitted. “But that was before I learned that the old joke, ‘how do you make God laugh? Make a plan,’ was actually no joke.”

      Mark nodded, agreeing. “Amen, sister,” he said and they clinked beer bottles.

      Laura realized she was having a good time. Amazing, but true.

      “So back to how horrible your day was,” Mark said.

      “I thought we’d let that go.”

      “Oh, no. I don’t let anything go.” Mark flashed another grin. “So you don’t know how long you’re staying, but I’m guessing you aren’t moving here for good.”

      “Probably not.”

      “Okay, then. A month. Maybe two at most you’ll be here, living above me. Then, you’re probably never going to see me again. So what’s the harm in telling me something? I don’t know any of your friends. I won’t tell any of them.”

      He had a point there. She sighed. “Where do you want me to start?”

      “Wherever you’d like. The workday is done. I’ve got a beer in my hand and I don’t have anywhere to be, except out here, enjoying this.” He lifted his beer bottle to the scenic view before them of the dark waves glistening in the moonlight. He had a point.

      The beer helped her shed her inhibitions, and she forgot why she shouldn’t tell this man everything. He seemed like he really wanted to know. And he was right—he was a captive audience. Might as well see if he was a genuinely sympathetic ear.

      “Well,” she said. “It all started with me making the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person.”

      Mark laughed. “What did you go and do that for?”

      “He was charming. And persistent. And he said he loved me.”

      “Oldest tricks in the book,” Mark said and Laura had to laugh a little. She watched his profile in the moonlight. He turned to study her and she felt the weight of his attention.

      “So what made him the wrong man?”

      “For starters?” Laura took a big swig of beer for courage. Here goes nothing, she thought. “He was married.”

      Mark coughed, and for a second, Laura feared he was judging her, like she knew her sister did, like she knew everyone would who ever found out. Only two people actually even knew about the affair: her sister and Dean. She realized she had no idea how a stranger would react. Derision? Probably.

      She deserved it, too, she thought. She could feel the heavy weight of guilt pressing against her shoulder blades. Why had she shared this information? With a man she barely knew?

      She could see his shoulders shaking a little in the moonlight. Was he angry?

      Then he broke the silence with a laugh, and she realized with a start he’d been laughing at her.

      “You?” he managed to sputter. “You had a torrid affair? Miss Noise Pollution?” He laughed a little harder and slapped his own knee.

      Well, this wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting. A lecture, disapproval, maybe. But laughter? “What’s so funny?”

      “It’s just... I can’t imagine you... You’re so buttoned up. So prim and proper. You, breaking one of the Ten Commandments? I just can’t imagine it.” Mark swiped at his eyes. The man laughed so hard, he actually started to tear up.

      Laura felt a prickle of indignation run down her spine. She wasn’t that straitlaced. Was she?

      “It’s not funny.”

      “It is, though. Have you met you?” He shook his head. “Today, you were wearing a muumuu to the beach, like head-to-toe covered. Not exactly the type to have an affair.”

      “Well, I did. I mean, I didn’t plan on it exactly, but it happened, and I take responsibility for it, but...I mean, it’s not something anybody I know would ever think I’d do, probably.” Laura thought about her small circle of girlfriends, most of whom were married and none of whom she could ever confide in about this. None of them would understand, she knew that for certain.

      “Well, then, you are full of surprises. Here’s to bold women who aren’t afraid to break the rules.” He offered up his beer bottle for a toast. Reluctantly, she clinked the neck of her bottle against his.

      “It’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t even think I should be toasting.” Now, Laura felt weird about it. Was he mocking her? “I mean, have you cheated?”

      “Nope,” he said, taking a big drink. “Was cheated on, actually. My wife slept with my brother. They’re together now. They’re even...” He bit off the last of his sentence, as if regretting even bringing it up.

      Laura felt the blood drain from her face. Now he’d hate her. He’d have to.

      “Oh... I am so sorry. You must...must hate me. I’ve got to be the kind of person you hate the most. A cheater.”

      “Why? You’re not my brother. Or my wife.” He shrugged one shoulder and took another long drag of beer. “They’re the ones who betrayed me.”

      “But—”

      “Look, your sins aren’t against everybody. I’m sure, Miss Noise Pollution, you had a very good reason for cheating.”

      That was kind of him, she thought, not to plunk her in the category of horrible person automatically. She knew many people who would.

      Laura thought about Dean’s silky words, about his gentle hands. “Not really. I mean, I thought...I guess I thought it was true love. I thought we were going to be together. But in the end, I’m not going to make excuses. I just wanted to, I guess.”

      “I’m