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Squinting at the phone’s tiny screen, Evie hoped Sunita was, well…being Sunita, playing the I-know-how-badly-you-want-a-boyfriend card for the millionth time.

Stuart:

4 Evie: Will u go 2 xmas film w/me tmrw?

He texted like a ten-year-old. Evie scrunched her face. “I think I’m busy.”

Orkney only had one cinema screen at the Pickaquoy Centre (aka “the Picky”), so there was no mistaking the movie. “I thought you wanted to see The Holiday,” Sunita prodded.

“The Cameron Diaz film?” Nick blinked Evie’s way. “It’s brilliant!”

He liked rom-coms? She did a double take. “You’ve seen it?”

Nick pressed his phone against his ear. “Bree and I went last week. You should definitely go”—eyes darting away, his grin brightened—“Hey, gorgeous! Happy Christmas!” Pausing for a moment, he laughed, and a puff of breath escaped into the air. “Yeah, sorry ’bout that. Reception here is shit.” He turned away for privacy. “So how’s London, Bree? Missing me?”

There it was. Definitive proof. Not from her brother, a gossip site, or a magazine, but straight from Nick. He had a girlfriend—a beautiful, famous one—whom he took to the cinema while Evie was alone, writing raunchy Nick fic in her bedroom, waiting…and for what?

Sunita whispered in her ear. “Stuart’s nice, Eves. It’s not fair to leave him hanging. Give the guy a break, yeah?”

She let out a long, mournful sigh. Oh, how she hated when Sunita was right.

EIGHT

EVIE

Now, Friday, June 23

Sunshine glowed around the edges of the blackout curtains as Evie, mid-yawn, shoved another book back onto its shelf. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.” Sunita skated her finger along a succession of colorful spines. “Kudos to your mum and all, turning your old bedroom into a library, but she should’ve asked my mum for tips on how to organize it. She’s got her cookbooks mixed in with her novels and gardening books. It’s every librarian’s nightmare.”

“Then your mum’s had a lucky escape, right?”

Sunita sighed and pulled out an autobiography shelved between two travel guides.

“Good thing it’s only six a.m.,” said Evie.

Sunita yawned. “What’s so good about it?”

Evie moved to another shelf. “We’ve got plenty of time. Our ferry doesn’t leave for another hour.”

“Why don’t we look online? There will be tons of recipes for oven-baked chicken parmesan.”

“Because I need Mum’s actual cookbook,” explained Evie. “I saw her change the recipe. She left handwritten notes in the margins.”

Disbelief flamed in Sunita’s eyes. “She what?”

Her continuous questions and complaints were beginning to grate. “Yes, Sunita, Mum wrote inside the book!” Evie scraped her bangs off her forehead. “I know it’s a huge no-no and your mum would freak, but it’s Mum’s book, not yours or the library’s. She can write in it all she wants, okay? And I have to find it so I won’t screw up again. It’s the recipe she used for a retirement bash last year.” Heavy footfall pounded up the stairs, but Evie didn’t stir. “It has accurate ingredient measurements for a party of forty.”

A breathless Fiona popped around the doorjamb. “Reporting for duty!”

“Fi!” Sunita leapt across the cozy room, enveloping the third member of their friendship trinity in a cheek-squishing hug. “God, I’ve missed you! How’s the fam?”

“They’re great!” Fiona grinned over Sunita’s shoulder. “The doctor cleared Poppy yesterday for nursery, so here I am, ready to pitch in.” Easing back from their embrace, she locked eyes with Evie. “Still no luck?”

She mournfully shook her head and plopped down on the carpet, searching anew along the bottom shelf of the bookcase neighboring her former closet.

“At this rate, we’ll have the whole house torn apart.” Sunita picked up a small step stool as Fiona kneeled down and began reading spines.