Months passed, and I spent the days working harder than I ever had, and the nights were filled with sleepless doubt and regret. I upped my swimming to twice a day, hoping to exhaust myself and shut off my overactive mind.

It didn't work.

I thought of Colin constantly, and tried to ignore intense feelings for him that bubbled up from some remote place inside me I didn't know existed. Why had I opened up to him over that weekend? Why had he struck a chord in me? Why had I become so smitten, so fast?

I'd survived being disowned by my parents, a nasty divorce, testifying against my ex-husband in court. Held my head high when my neighbors and socialites had gossiped about me. I'd persevered, thrived even.

So what was this one man affecting me so? Maybe because I suspected that he'd slept with me out of pity. Or convenience. Each day, I carried a heavy feeling of disappointment in my stomach because I'd never see him again. It didn't seem fair, somehow, that we'd gotten along so brilliantly, shone so bright together, only to end abruptly.

But I had to stop wallowing. There was money to be made, and dignity to regain. I was back in my beautiful estate on Palm Beach Island, sketching out next year's swim and beachwear designs. To concentrate, I'd halted all calls.

"Especially if Colin King tries to get through, I don't want to know about it," I told June and my secretary in a firm voice, knowing I was being silly because he wouldn't ever call. "I need to fully focus."

I was beginning to suspect why Colin had stood me up. I was older, divorced and strange. If he were to settle down — and that was a big if, according to what I'd learned about him — he'd want someone younger. Someone who could give him babies. Someone who didn't suffer from anxiety attacks when she flew. All of those were probably reasons why he'd stood me up in London.

Why would he want more? I was a pity fling. Or, in his probable words, a pity fuck. The very idea filled me with shame.

I imagined Colin, on the flight back to Florida, sitting next to a cheery, normal younger woman. They'd chat amiably as the plane took off, Colin would flirt, she'd flirt back as they enjoyed a cocktail. She would slip him her card, he'd call her, and they'd eventually marry.

Or, perhaps he'd never be the marrying type. Maybe he'd been a rake his entire adult life and would never settle down. Even though I thought we'd had a connection, the truth was, I wasn't captivating enough to interest him beyond a weekend. I was too basic. Everything he'd said to me was a lie. I'd been a willing woman who opened her legs for him on an unscheduled stop in Iceland.

That thought depressed me even more.

After several weeks, the hurt of Colin's absence faded to a dull ache. I went back to my routine, with a few exceptions.

I kept my promise to June and had drinks with her on Saturdays. The first several nights out left me so drained that I slept late on Sundays instead of going for my usual, early morning swim in the humid air.

I thought of Colin on those mornings, recalling how we'd laid in bed together, laughing, kissing and talking. I immediately berated myself for thinking about him. We'd spent a total of three nights together.

Seventy-two hours. How could I fall so fast for someone in such a short amount of time? Absurd.

Part of me wanted to call him and demand to know why he'd stood me up. The rational side of me warned that if I did, I would expose myself to more shame and hurt. After giving my ex-husband so many chances, I wasn't about to do the same with Colin.

No, it was best to let our long weekend disappear into a small, locked room in my mind.

But in late-October, something changed in me. Perhaps it was the long, fall shadows, or the way the days were shorter and darker and captured my mood. Maybe I'd succeeded in telling myself that Colin was a thing of the past. To my surprise one Saturday, I actually was looking forward to going out with June to The Breakers.

I donned a gauzy silver cocktail dress — it was still extraordinarily hot in Florida this late in the year — and we headed to the island's most iconic hotel. It had been built in 1896 and had five hundred rooms on a pristine stretch of beach, along with a swank, wood-paneled social club where all of the island's elite gathered.

June and I sat at the long bar and stared at the floor-to-ceiling wine cooler encased in glass behind the bar. The hotel boasted some two thousand different bottles, but tonight, I wasn't in the mood for wine. I studied the bespoke cocktail menu and inhaled the scent of fresh lilies, which ringed the room. Everything was so beautiful here. And delicious.

White rum, house made grenadine, fresh lime...that sounded amazing.

"I'll have the Palm Beach Martini," I said to the bartender, closing the drink menu.

"Make that two, and put it on my tab," rumbled a male voice from behind. "And one Padron limited edition cigar. That is, if the lady doesn't mind if we go outside so I can smoke while we talk."

My heart rate spiked, and that's when I knew I wasn't over Colin at all. Please let it be him. Please. Pretty please?

I whirled in my seat to find a pair of penetrating blue eyes staring down at me. I gasped, then my stomach sank with disappointment.

It wasn't Colin.

"Thank you, but you don't need to do that," I said to the man, who was about my age and smiling kindly.

Turning to June, I looked at her sharply. "Let's go."

"But—"

"I'm sorry. I can't. I don't want to be here right now."

On our way back to the estate, we sat in the back of my chauffeured Mercedes. June's nostrils flared. I knew she was angry with me, annoyed that I was unable to overcome my fears and face the world.

"He's called every day, you know."

"Who?" I knew, but I wanted to hear her say it out of blind hope.

She tucked her short, glossy black hair behind her ears. "Colin King. Twice a day, actually. Morning and night."

I was silent.

"Rather, he did call for three months. Stopped in September. He was persistent, I'll give him that. I even asked him why he stood you up, and he said that was something he wanted to explain to you, and no one else."

I bit my lip.

"He also sent the flowers."

My eyes got watery. Lavish bouquets of flowers, roses and lilies and hard-to-find tropical varieties, had appeared around the house since my return from London.

"The housekeeper told me they were from various designers and local business owners."

"I asked her to tell you that because you said you didn't want any news of Colin. And I don't know if you noticed, but the flowers stopped coming recently." She folded her pale arms over her chest. "And remember that giant flat of blueberries that came in August? Yeah. From him. Direct from Iceland."

I gasped. Those had been Icelandic bilberries, not blueberries. No wonder why they'd tasted so flavorful. Somehow Colin had an entire flat shipped to me, fresh. All because he knew I'd loved them in Iceland.

Blinking back tears, I turned away from June.

"You're a piece of work. He clearly wants to talk to you, Sammy. I've ever seen a man this persistent. I'm shocked he hasn't parachuted into the estate grounds or flown a plane with a banner overhead."

"So why didn't he come to the house?"

"How do you know he didn't?"

My cheeks burned. Had Colin come? And, had my pride inadvertently shut him out? Regardless. He was the one who stood me up.

June continued, fuming. "He did, once. And I turned him away because you were so adamant against talking to him. You weren't willing to give a chance to the only man who's made you come alive in the last four years. I saw how you looked in London, when you first arrived."

I snorted. "How did I look?"

"Like a woman who'd gotten a death row pardon. Alive. You had color in your cheeks and your eyes sparkled. They sparkled, Sam."

If any of my other employees had talked to me like this, I'd have fired them. But this was no-nonsense June, and she was my closest confidant. The one who'd patiently stood with me while I'd fallen apart after Joaquin. I glared at June.

"Only I can make myself come alive. Colin has nothing to do with it."

Now it was her turn to glare at me. Her light brown eyes, usually so even-keeled, hardened in my direction.

"Sammy. Stop it. Sometimes we all need help. Sometimes love can help us heal."

"Who said anything about love?" I snapped.

I stared out the window at the grand, old Mediterranean homes to my left. At the perfect, green hedges and the expensive cars in the driveways. It was as if I was on my own island, one far smaller than this. Maybe it was time to expand.

Where did Colin live? What kind of life did he lead? As close as I felt to him in Iceland, we'd never really talked about our day-to-day lives. Would we even be compatible in real life? And, did it matter?

From what June said, Colin had given up on me.

Iceland had been a fantasy, and now all I wanted was a chance to make it real.

* * *

The next night was Halloween, the only night of the year I ever wanted to be a mother. I'd never desired children, not when I was with my ex, not before when I was a girl and not after the divorce. I'd had too cold of a childhood to want to be a parent myself. Plus, I was a doting aunt to my sister's kids. I adored my niece and nephew.

But on Halloween, I loved all of the children who came to the estate's front door in their costumes. It was tradition that I would dress as an elaborate gothic witch, all in black, and hand out full-sized candy bars with my staff. The foyer of the estate was decorated with moody, blue lighting, spider webs and fake bats. A smoke machine made the walk-up to the front door extra spooky.

The estate owners of Palm Beach did Halloween on a grand scale, and while some people despised the kids from off-island coming for our candy, I reveled in it and bought thousands of dollars worth, just to see the little faces light up. Some of the kids, like the ones from the farmworkers' families on the county's western edge, probably came from homes where they didn't have three meals a day, much less candy.

For those children, I slipped grocery store gift cards into their paper sacks.

"Look, awww..." I squealed to my housekeeper as twins dressed as cats came to the door.

I clapped my hands and laughed harder than I had in months when I saw the parade of the costumes: princesses and superheroes, mutant ninja turtles and, my favorite, all of the girls dressed as Super Woman.

I'd vowed to call Colin the following day, because I recalled that he said that he usually had brunch with his brother and didn't work on Sundays. I'd been plotting out what I'd say, and was hoping to tell him about Halloween, too. Maybe he'd think it was endearing, or appropriate, that I dressed as a witch every year — since that was kind of how I'd acted toward him, apparently.

Right as the candy supply dwindled to a few chocolate bars, the doorbell chimed. I flung it open and grinned.

The best costumes yet stood in my foyer. There, a mother and daughter were dressed in plush, gray shark suits, like high-end, cartoon outfits from a theme park. Their fur gleamed in the blue outdoors light and they waved in tandem, their hands covered with mitten-sleeves and their feet in footy-pajama bottom-like pants.

The pair looked alike, with curly black hair springing out from the face holes that wrapped around their heads like hoods. Their faces peered out from what was supposed to be the sharks' mouths.

"Trick or treat." The small girl held out a plastic, orange pumpkin. She must have been around three or four.

"I'm impressed," I said, stuffing two Hershey bars into her container. "Moms this year haven't been so inventive with their costumes. Usually they've stuck to sexy maid or sexy nurse. No one's come as a shark. No mother-daughter shark teams this year."

The short woman chortled. "Well, we were heavily influenced by Shark Week this year. Weren't we, Charlotte?"

The girl nodded solemnly and stared. She was gorgeous, with clear blue eyes.

"You make an excellent shark," I shifted my gaze to the woman. "And you do, too."

"Thank you. Well, I guess you should know why we're really here. I came to introduce myself."

The woman flipped the hood back with her mitten-hand and long black hair tumbled everywhere.

"I'm Emma King."

____