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Meg nodded, looking around the neighborhood she’d called home for the past five years.

She loved it here, but she couldn’t afford the apartment on her own.

Not since the start-up she’d worked at had shut down.

She had applied for a job at Romain’s workplace, but she’d put off her interview until after she returned from her honeymoon in Italy.

Now, that career step was totally out of the question. “It’s a big step backward, you mean.”

“Not even close. Seattle’s not good enough for you.” Natasha put her arm around her as they finished crossing the street.

Natasha had been Meg’s best friend since they’d found they had matching Malibu Barbie dolls at preschool.

Natasha had warned Meg that Rachel was a player, but Meg hadn’t imagined that her sorority sister would go after Romain when she’d asked her to be a bridesmaid.

Or that he’d jump on the offer. Until the day she’d got Romain’s phone call from the gate at Sea-Tac, before he and Rachel boarded their rescheduled flight.

She pushed away the memory and smiled at Natasha.

“Thanks for coming. I hope you haven’t started the wedding cake yet.

I’ll pay you for it if you have started.

We can feed it to the ducks in the park. ”

“Cake isn’t good for ducks. Besides, I called the couple I’d turned down last week and sold it to them.

She thought your design was beautiful.” Natasha owned her bakery, A Taste of Magic, on Bainbridge Island.

She catered to the tourists who liked having fancy cupcakes to eat along with her coffee while they walked through the small town’s streets.

For the past year, she’d also been making wedding cakes.

“I have a check for your deposit refund in my purse.”

“I hope the cake doesn’t bring them bad luck.” Meg unlocked the door to the lobby, and the group followed her into the elevator. Finally, she unlocked the door to her apartment. As they entered, they stood around behind Meg, staring at the chaos.

Last through the door was Dalton, who’d been her big brother’s best friend since he’d arrived on the island.

Before passing through the doorway, he hugged her.

His arms felt safe, making her want to lay her head on his chest. After an hour or two in that position, she’d be fine.

She reconsidered, since it was probably not the best look for a jilted, brokenhearted fiancée.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, anyway.” Dalton stepped back, breaking contact. Then he punched her in the arm. “Welcome back to the boonies, Magpie.”

Dalton was the only one who ever called her that. Typically, she found it annoying, but today she was so grateful for the extra help, he could call her anything. “Come on in, brat, and help me move my meager belongings home.”

She pointed out the furniture she was taking, including her grandmother’s china cabinet, her desk, and the papasan chair she’d bought in college.

The rest of the furniture was Romain’s. He hadn’t liked her mishmash of yard sale furniture finds, so she’d sold most of it when they moved in together.

She handed Junior a pile of blankets to protect the furniture.

Especially the china cabinet. Then he and Dalton started moving the larger items into the truck.

“Mom, will you and Aunt Melody pack up the kitchen?” Meg didn’t even look up as she told them the few things not to box up.

The kitchen had been Meg’s domain. Right now, she was on autopilot, and if she stopped to think, the tears would start to flow.

Again. Biting her lip, she refrained from crying.

Not in front of her family. “All the dishes, silverware, glasses, pots, and pans. And all the appliances except the Keurig on the counter. It’s all mine. ”

Natasha went into the living room and started boxing up Meg’s complete series of Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and the Hardy Boys titles. “I’m assuming all the books are yours?”

“Exactly. I should have realized that before saying I’d marry the guy.

You can’t trust a man who doesn’t read.” Trying not to run, Meg headed to the bedroom to pack her clothes.

At least in here she didn’t have to worry about someone seeing her crying.

She taped up a box for her shoes, but most of her clothes fit into her three suitcases.

She needed to remember to check the coat closet.

She had a North Face puffer in there that she’d paid too much for to leave.

As she emptied her side of the closet, she froze.

Romain’s new tuxedo hung by his suits. She ran her left hand over the smooth fabric, imagining him standing there, watching her.

The engagement ring on her finger still sparkled even as pain dulled her senses.

She could keep it. Wasn’t the rule if she didn’t break the engagement, she got the ring?

She took off the ring, studying the marquise-cut diamond and platinum setting.

He’d picked out the perfect ring. He just wasn’t the perfect man.

Meg tucked the ring into the breast pocket of the tuxedo.

Romain had bought his tuxedo. He’d shuddered when she’d suggested getting a rental for the day to save money.

Someday when he puts this suit on, he’ll find the ring.

Meg imagined the moment when he pulled it out and realized he’d made a horrible mistake.

He’d try to call her, but Meg wouldn’t answer.

Romain was dead to her. Just like her fantasy of a perfect life.

She ran her hand across the top shelf to ensure she hadn’t missed anything.

Her fingers brushed a bundle. She pulled it down and realized it was a money clip with five hundred dollars in it.

Romain’s cash stash. Their just-in-case money.

She’d contributed to what used to be their fund.

He’d probably forgotten to take it on vacation with him.

“You should take the money. It will help pay for your moving expenses.” Dalton stood at the doorway, watching her consider the cash. He walked inside and stood next to her. “He owes you at least that.”

Meg fanned out the money. “He does, but I’m not taking all of it.” She peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and tucked it and the money clip into the tux pocket with the ring. Then she handed two hundred to Dalton. “Share this with Junior for your time and gas money.”

Dalton stood close enough that she could smell the aftershave he’d used since he’d been a teenager. Musky and woody at the same time. Like he’d stepped out of the forest on his way to build a log cabin.

“Meg, I’m sorry about this. But he wasn’t the guy for you.” Dalton pushed a lock of hair back away from her eyes. “You deserve so much more.”

A cough made her jump.

“Hey, Meg.” Natasha stood at the doorway, watching them. “Your mom wants to know what you’re doing with the wedding gifts.”

“I’ll come and sort them. I’ll be responsible for sending back the ones from my relatives and friends, but the others, Romain’s going to have to deal with.” She stepped away from Dalton, clearing her head of his forest smell. She had work to do. “I’ll need another box.”

Meg returned to the living room and saw her mom sitting on the papasan chair, putting all the lace pieces of her wedding dress into a garment bag. “Mom, leave that.”

Mom searched the floor for the last few pieces of lace. “I’m not letting you throw this out. You paid too much for it. Maybe we can save it.”

Meg picked lace off Watson’s fur and put it with the rest of the dress. “I don’t think even a miracle could save this. I was furious last night. I’m glad the dress distracted me.”

Aunt Melody snorted, “Felicia has always believed in a patron saint of lost causes.”

Ignoring her sister, Mom zipped up the bag and headed to the front door to take the pieces of the dress downstairs to the van.

Meg watched her go, knowing that she couldn’t say anything to change her mind and reeling from her mom’s guilt trip that still hung in the room over destroying the expensive dress.

It didn’t take long to sort and pack the wedding gifts, so after cleaning out the pantry and boxing up what she could save from the fridge, Meg looked around the apartment.

She stepped out on the balcony to retrieve her fern, which was somehow still alive, and paused to take in the view.

“I’m going to miss you, Space Needle,” she declared as Natasha joined her on the balcony.

“Bainbridge Island has views, too. Including of the Space Needle and the rest of the skyline. We can walk to the dock every time you want to see it.” Natasha hugged her. “Come on. If we’re done here, the guys want to catch the next ferry home.”

* * *

When they got settled on the ferry, Meg went up to the observation deck to get a cup of coffee and to keep Watson happy.

She found a rear-facing seat at the stern and watched the city disappear into the distance.

She would be living less than an hour away, but it might as well be across the world.

They’d gone outside to sit, and the spray from the fog stung her face as she fought the tears.

She’d cried enough over Romain’s betrayal, but now she realized, it wasn’t the man she was grieving. It was her life.

She was desperately searching for a silver lining in all this.

Then it came to her. The book she’d been talking about writing since she was in high school.

A real-life guide to solving mysteries. Not how to be a private investigator.

But instructions for a normal person like her—a way for all people who wanted to crack cold cases or figure out who trashed the park by using a well-proven method.

Or at least it had worked when they were in high school.

Her mood started to lift, but then she had a thought.

She hadn’t even seen the signs of her fiancé’s betrayal. She felt a wave of depression overwhelm her again.