“Wait.” I reach for her but she shakes my hand off.
 
 “I’m tired. And I have a book to write,” she says, still not looking at me. “I need to go.”
 
 She turns away, her stride measured and even, like my heart isn’t smashed on the floor, ragged and breaking. I start to walk after her.
 
 “Sir?”
 
 A sharp voice cuts through the air. I glance over my shoulder to see a pair of NYPD officers approaching, their eyes immediately zeroing in on the sleek sports car half on the curb, hazard lights blinking.
 
 “Is that your vehicle?” one of them asks, his hand on his belt. “You can’t park it there.”
 
 My hands clench into fists. “Yeah, I’m moving it now,” I murmur. But my eyes are still on her. She pauses at the end of the block. For one impossible second I think she might look back.
 
 But she doesn’t.
 
 She keeps walking, her head held high, as the officers keep talking. And all I can do is stand there, surrounded by noise and blue uniforms and a goddamn Lamborghini that’s become the world’s most expensive shackle.
 
 I could leave it, piss Hudson off and chase after her.
 
 But she’s made it clear, she doesn’t want to be chased. She doesn’t want me making the decisions for her.
 
 “Sir, are you listening?”
 
 So instead I watch her disappear into the city like I never mattered at all.
 
 thirty-eight
 
 ASHER
 
 The bar is almost empty. Mid-afternoon sunlight filters through the tall windows, catching on the amber swirl of whiskey in my glass. It’s the kind of place that charges twenty bucks for a drink and another fifty for your regrets. Hudson’s nursing a beer and watching me like I’m a ticking bomb, which to be fair, isn’t far off.
 
 “She’s back in Liberty,” he says, breaking the silence. “Jesse told Skyler this morning.”
 
 I nod. I already know. But knowing where Francie is doesn’t fix the fact that she won’t speak to me. Won’t answer my messages. And for the first time in weeks I haven’t checked the lighthouse security feed. I can’t. Because if I see her... and she looks like she’s better off without me, I don’t know what I’ll do.
 
 “How are things with Skyler?” I ask, because to top everything else off, my decisions have caused problems in Hudson’s marriage.I pulled Skyler into this mess when she’s already dealing with enough.
 
 “Furious.” His lips twitch. “And it’s so damn hard to make it up to a woman who can’t be bought with flowers or jewelry.I’ve spent the last two hours searching through a record store in the village for an original copy of Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham’s first album.”
 
 I give him a sympathetic look. Skyler is a huge Fleetwood Mac – and Stevie Nicks – fan. I make myself a note to apologize to her for involving her in this mess.
 
 Hudson takes a slow sip of his beer. “So are we going to talk about this, or are you just going to brood into that glass like Batman on a bender?”
 
 I let out a humorless laugh. “You ever think maybe I’m not built for this?”
 
 “For what?” he frowns.
 
 “Relationships. My last girlfriend tried to steal my business from me. And my current – or possibly past one – thinks I’m the world’s biggest screw up.”
 
 “You are.”
 
 “Thanks.”
 
 We exchange glances. Hudson lets out a sigh.
 
 “I know you were only trying to protect her.”
 
 “I was.” I nod.