Chapter 20

Deirdre entered the police station on Monday morning before ten-thirty, and she knew instantly that Wyatt wasn’t in the building. How she knew, she didn’t know. But she knew.

Her muscles relaxed, and she hadn’t even realized how tense she’d been. Her fingers unclenched as she went through the metal detector after laying her files on the security belt. The hustle and bustle of the place should’ve calmed her, but all it did was heighten her awareness.

Norma sat at her desk, and Wyatt’s door was closed, the office beyond it dark. His secretary caught her looking, and she said, “He’s not in today. He took the whole week off.”

Deirdre swung her attention back to Norma. “He did? Will he be at the party?”

“I told him if he wasn’t, I’d skin him alive,” Norma said, and Deirdre believed her. She wouldn’t want to be on this woman’s bad side. She may look like the sweet grandmotherly type, what with her graying hair and wrinkles around her eyes, but she was still sharp as a tack and not to be trifled with.

“Okay,” Deirdre said, sitting in front of her desk. “I promised to be fast. I just want to go over everything one final time and update you as to where we are.” She opened the folder and saw the order for the food. “Everything is set for the chicken sandwiches and the crab cakes,” she said. “I talked to Claudia at Mussel’s, and she confirmed a four-thirty set up time.”

She paused so Norma could ask a question or make a comment, but she just nodded.

“We’ll have the profiteroles, as well as an array of drinks,” she said. “Hot and cold. Nuts About Dough has confirmed the setup of the doughnut wall at three-thirty. I guess it takes about an hour. I’ll be here by two to get the place decorated, and I believe you said you wanted a real tree. Tell me more about that.”

“Well, just look at that thing.” Norma gestured to the sad-looking Christmas tree near the door. “Half of the lights are burnt out.”

“So you don’t necessarily mean a real pine tree. A living one. You just want it to be more festive.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Well, I think it’ll be festive,” Deirdre said, turning a page. “I got the final mockups for the décor from Bruce this morning, and this is what he’ll be doing.” She showed Norma the full-color printout, which included where the food would be, the additional Christmas tree, a sack of gifts that Norma herself would be providing, and a station to get setup to receive texts from Santa.

“It’s beautiful,” Norma said, and she sounded choked up. Sure enough, when Deirdre looked at her, she was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I have some allergies,” she said.

Deirdre didn’t believe her for a second. No one had allergies in December, when there was very little pollen in the air.

“I believe we’re doing some brief caroling,” she said. “I have all the tracks on a thumb drive. You said I could use a computer hooked to some speakers here?”

“That’s right,” Norma said, fully composed now. “We’ll man the music from my station right here.”

“Perfect. And then gifts. Done.” Deirdre closed the folder. “That’s for you. If there’s anything you need between now and Friday, let me know.”

“I’ll make sure the desks are moved,” Norma said, and Deirdre nodded as she stood. She loved short meetings, and she loved keeping her word to keep them short. She couldn’t help looking toward Wyatt’s door one more time, and Norma caught her.

“You know, he’d take you back in a heartbeat.”

Deirdre’s every defense went up. She did not want to talk about her personal life with anyone, least of all her boyfriend’s secretary.

Ex-boyfriend.

She sighed. “Thank you, Norma. See you Friday.” She walked out of the police station with her head held high, remembering the last time she’d had to make a conscious effort to do that. Wyatt had come running after her then.

He didn’t this time.

She stewed over what to do about him as she drove back to work. She’d spent most of the weekend with Meg and her dog, Father John. They’d gone paddle boarding and spent hours on the beach, reading, drinking fruity slushes, and talking. Mostly about Meg and what kind of man she wanted, but Deirdre had opened up a little bit. And by that, she meant she hadn’t shut completely down when Meg had asked about Wyatt.

But the answer was always the same.

I don’t know.

***

A few days later, Deirdre sat on her couch, the plan for the department party spread all over the coffee table in front of her. Setting up for a party of this magnitude was no small matter, and she had two pages of notes, with what needed to be done in what order to maximize the time she had.

Sometimes she took an assistant with her to setup and monitor the party, but Christmas was one of the busiest seasons for weddings, parties, and celebrations. While the actual holiday was still two weeks away, everyone wanted to get their party or show done so they could enjoy the holidays with their families.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at it. “Dalton.” She nearly fell forward in her haste to grab the phone, and she couldn’t keep the anticipated hush out of her voice when she answered with, “Dalton?”

“Hello, Deirdre,” he said, immediately clearing his throat. That wasn’t good. Or maybe it was. She’d heard him do it so many times over the years, usually right before he came clean about something.

“What’s going on?” She forced herself to only ask the one question, though many more piled behind her tongue.

“Your daughter wants to know what you’re doing this weekend.”

Someone else spoke on his end of the line, and Deirdre’s whole heart trembled. Had that been Emma?

“Tomorrow,” he clarified. “Emma would like to know what you’re doing tomorrow afternoon and evening.”

Deirdre’s mind blanked. Whatever she had on her schedule, she’d clear. She looked down, everything spinning wildly out of control.

She saw the papers on the coffee table. The party. “I have a huge event,” she said. “The holiday party for the police department here in Getaway Bay.” She thought quickly, not wanting to lose this opportunity. “But I’m free Saturday and Sunday. I could come up there.”

Scuffling and low-level talking came through the line. Deirdre hated this feeling of helplessness, mingled with desperation. Would she get in trouble for seeing Emma, if her daughter initiated it? She wasn’t sure how all the rules of the protective order worked, and she should probably call her lawyer the moment she got off the phone with Dalton.

“Apparently, Emma has some play practices,” Dalton said. “But she has agreed to perhaps get together with you. Have dinner or coffee.”

Deirdre just kept breathing, the movement in her lungs coming faster and faster with every moment. “That’s great,” she managed to say.

“We’re going to the courthouse in the morning to find out about dismissing the protective order. I’ll let you know what we discover.”

“Thank you, Dalton,” Deirdre said, on the verge of tears. She didn’t want him to hear that though, and she straightened and took a deep breath.

“Can you hold on a sec?” he asked.

“Yes.” Deirdre waited, listening intently though he’d obviously tried to hold the phone away from his mouth. He told Emma to leave, that he wanted to say something to Deirdre without being overheard.

Her heart continued to pound, faster and faster still.

“Are you still there?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Look, she’s upset with me because I want to tell you everything.”

“Okay.” Deirdre wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say. “I’ve never asked for that. Only what you or she wanted to give me.” Which had been almost nothing since she’d left the North Shore. The longest she’d gone without hearing from Emma or Dalton was seven months. Seven long, painful months where she had no idea if her family was even alive. And the only reason she’d texted then was because the island had been hit with a tsunami, and she’d finally had a reason to text to ask them how they were.

Still alive, had been his response.

“She’s not doing well,” he said. “And I don’t know how to get her to do anything. She’s flunking out of school, hanging out with the wrong kids. I’ve even caught her vaping a couple of times.” He sighed, and he sounded so frustrated. Deirdre held the phone to her ear, numbness spreading through her.

She didn’t know what to say, though the vindictive part of her wanted to throw everything he’d ever said to her about how overbearing and controlling she was right back in his face. He’d had no idea what it was like to raise Emma alone—and that had started long before the actual divorce.

She supposed he did now, and that was probably punishment enough. “I’m so sorry, Dalton. She’s not an easy kid.”

“No, she is not.”

Deirdre thought, her mind moving through different solutions. But the truth was, she didn’t live on the North Shore anymore, and she wasn’t going back. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I proposed that we think about moving down to Getaway Bay,” he said. “We could co-parent easier there, and she could ease into having you in her life again.”

Deirdre blinked rapidly, turning around as if someone would be there to tell her this was all a dream. “Is that what she wants?”

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Dalton said with another sigh. “And she doesn’t get to make all the decisions.”

“I won’t see her or talk to her until the protective order is out of play,” Deirdre said. “I have to protect myself, and if I say something wrong about her hair, I don’t want her crying wolf again.” Her own vitriol, though slight, surprised her. She’d spent so many months pining for a relationship with her daughter, and yet not just any relationship.

A healthy one.

“We’ll find out about that tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you for telling me how things really are.” And they weren’t good, fine, or great. “Is she going to be able to graduate?” Students had to take a certain number of classes—and pass them. Just because Emma was only fifteen didn’t mean her grades didn’t count for anything.

“She has to retake a math class,” he said. “And maybe this English class she’s currently failing if she can’t get the grade up by the middle of January.”

“Okay,” she said, because what else was there? She couldn’t give Dalton parenting advice.

He cleared his throat. “And Deirdre? I just wanted to say I’m sorry too. For everything. For believing her over you. For not getting her to dismiss this silly protective order before it even went before the commissioner. For all of it.”

Deirdre’s throat closed. This was what families did. They talked. They forgave. They came together to heal.

She didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t. “Thank you,” she said again. “Let me know what you learn at the courthouse tomorrow.” She could research it online too, but she fell back to the couch after the call had ended.

Hope shone in her soul for maybe the first time in eighteen months. She’d experienced some level of joy and happiness since arriving in Getaway Bay. But she’d never really felt hopeful.

She warmed, and her excitement grew. She jumped up, grabbing her phone, and she called the one person she wanted to share this news with. Share her life with.

Wyatt.

“Deirdre?” he answered. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Where are you?”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the simple sound of his beautiful, deep voice. She couldn’t speak over the lump of emotion in her throat.

“Deirdre,” he said. “Can you speak, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Is someone in the house?”

“No,” she managed to say. “Can you come over?”

Only one breath passed before he said, “I’m on my way.”

And in that moment, Deirdre knew she didn’t deserve a man as good, as loyal, as kind as Wyatt Gardner. But she wanted him all the same.

For the first time since they’d started dating, she had hope. Hope for a better future with her daughter. Hope for a life she wanted to live. And hope that she could learn to trust and love a man again.

If she’d have known she needed hope to light her way, she’d have started searching for it earlier.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. She had it now, and that was all that mattered. And hopefully, she’d be able to set things right with Wyatt too and get him back into this new, hopeful life she wanted to lead.