Nang continued.“It’s the greatest cliche but holds the most truth.Life is short.A mere wisp.But you still have a chance, Jameson.I know your heart has been without a green bough for a while.You’re a good man, and Hope wouldn’t want you to be unhappy or alone."
To most, the idea that a mother-in-law might share these feelings just hours after burying her daughter—her last surviving child—would seem alarming.But Jay knew Nang better than most.This wasn’t callous insensitivity.It was simply Nang being Nang.
"I don’t think we should be talking about—" Jay tried to turn the conversational tide.
"I guess it's my fault.I preached to both my children that success could only be measured by the amount of sacrifice one is willing to make—and of course, who would know that better than I?I'm just sorry Hope’s sacrifice was you.She knew she was hurting you and she wanted to set you free," Nang confessed, turning back to Jay with a pained expression."And now she has."
CHAPTERSIX
JAY
Six Months Later
Jay stared at the map on the seatback in front of him, watching the flight progress en route to Jamaica.He’d hardly spoken a word since meeting up with Rob and boarding the plane at LAX.In an hour, they’d land in Montego Bay.Another couple of hours and they’d finally arrive at their destination: a cliff-top resort on the westernmost side of the island.He’d done his best to get out of the trip, but Rob Bradley had the persistence of an ant, determined to move something much bigger and much heavier than himself no matter how difficult it might be.
"Would you like another beverage?"a flight attendant asked.
"Uh, no… thank you."Jay forced a smile.
“Feeling okay?"Rob asked.
"Fine.Just tired," Jay answered.
"You've been really quiet."
"I guess I don't have much to say."Guilt will do that to you.
For months, Jay had slipped into a deep, dark place.It didn't matter that they'd lived separate lives and were on the verge of calling it quits.It didn't matter that her death was accidental.He'd placed the blame squarely on his own shoulders and his insistence she drive home.
I was hell-bent on making her feel like shit.
It's my fault.It's all my fault.
"I don’t remember if I told you, but Abby arranged to have a driver meet us, so we won’t have to deal with a crowded shuttle.It will be just us, nice and quiet."
"Why are we doing this again?"Jay asked, turning his pale, thin face up to his best friend.
"We’re doing this,” Rob gripped Jay’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “because it’s time you took a step toward rejoining the human race.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
CLAIRE
Claire turned the key and entered her room.Though she’d told the front desk not to bother, housekeeping had done a full refresh—clean towels, bed made, pillows fluffed, and a bucket of Red Stripe, ready and waiting.She snatched a beer from its icy bath, shimmied out of her damp swimsuit, and rinsed off in the outdoor shower.
Nearly a week had passed since Claire departed her London flat under the cover of darkness, determined to get as far away from work as possible.The predawn taxi ride to Heathrow in the pouring rain confirmed her destination of choice.A place of familiar and literal warmth.She and Molly had spent many a raucous Spring Break here in Jamaica.Her father and uncle had crashed their party one year too.The girls had been royally pissed off when the men sauntered out to the pool area, dressed in loud shirts and sporting a significant buzz.But, per usual, Harry Jordan and his brother-in-law, Hamish Fielding, became the life of the party.And, as a bonus, Claire and Molly never touched their pocket money for the remainder of the trip.Harry and Hamish were more than happy to spoil them.
Oh, to go back to those simple days,Claire thought with a long pull on her beer.
Her last visit to Negril had been with Calvin.He’d rented what she suspected might be the most expensive house with views of Seven Mile Beach.A drop-dead gorgeous villa, complete with a full-time chef, a jovial bartender, and a stealthy housekeeper.It should have been the greatest vacation of her life.Less than twenty-four hours into it, Calvin all but disappeared, lost to business calls or parked behind his laptop.They never even had sex.A whole week together in a tropical paradise, and her most intimate experience had been a ninety-minute full body massage.
Clean and free from beach sand, Claire wrapped her wet hair up turban-style in a towel.As she slathered lotion from head to toe, her cell phone rang.
“No, I still haven’t gotten laid on this trip,” Claire answered on speaker.
“Are you telling me there are no single men in the whole damn resort?”Molly asked.
“I’m telling you that I’m not looking.”
