Jessica wanted to hide. She wanted her sunglasses back to hide her bloodshot eyes from the glaring sand. The typical bank of dense summer fog was lurking a few miles offshore, obscuring the horizon but leaving the beach bright and clear, so no help there either. She wanted to look away from the beautiful man whose brown eyes somehow saw past her defenses, yet didn’t turn away from the mess that poured out of her. And most of all she didn’t want him to stop holding her hand because it felt like the only thing that was keeping her from shattering into a thousand pieces.
“This is Monday, Greg. My parents’ fourth wedding is on Saturday,” as if there could be a more meaningless act. But, if it made them happy, more power to them. “On Sunday morning Natalya drops me at the Portland airport and
