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Donna and I glance at each other. “If what came out?” she asks.

“Grady was the one lobbying against you going to Nicaragua. I didn’t agree with him, but I knew he was doing it. A lot of people knew. He held meetings, he organized a letter writing campaign, and Danny found out. I really thought Grady just wanted the money to stay here, but now…I don’t think that’s what it was.” She swallows. “Grady told me last night that you’d been blackmailing him. That you made up some story about catching him on the beach with Ryan in order to keep him quiet about you and Luke. It wasn’t made-up, though, was it?”

My shoulders sag. I want to lie to her but I can’t, not when she’s asking me outright. “It wasn’t. I’m so sorry. I’d have told you if I could have. Grady said he’d pin what happened on Luke if I said a word.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “I think I already knew. Not about that night on the beach. But I’ve found things, in the house, on his computer and his phone. He always had an excuse, but…I think I sort of knew.” She laughs quietly, to herself. “You know who I think he might have really loved? Danny. I never understood why he hated you so much, right from the beginning. And it was always Danny he wanted to be around, back then. Not me.”

Of course. I’m not sure why it never occurred to me before—the way he hated me from the start, how I never understood why he always wanted to hang out with us. Him suggesting he and Danny could run the church together after the pastor’s heart attack. And then, apparently, going out of his way to keep Danny here.

“So what will you do?” I ask.

“She’ll come home with me, of course,” says Donna. “I’m going to need some help. We fired Hilary, you know. She allowed Cash to attend—a man who’d assaulted you, our biggest donor. She hardly seems like the kind of person we’d want making decisions for our kids. Now, Libby, if you don’t mind driving me home, I’d be grateful. Juliet, can I persuade you to leave with us? It could be hours still.”

I want to make sure he actually gets out. That nothing else goes wrong. “I’d like to stay…unless you think he won’t want me here?”

She tilts her head. “Why wouldn’t he want you here?”

So many reasons. Starting with the fact that he just spent the night in jail because of me. “I told so many lies, Donna,” I whisper. “I lied to you, but I lied to him even more. And I hurt him. Again and again.”

She pulls my hand away and tucks it into her own. “Honey, you did it for him. He’s going to understand that. And he’s going to understand it was the wisest thing you could have done.”

I swallow. “It wasn’t though…I mean, it was all for nothing. I probably just made it worse.”

She smiles. “Could you have gotten one hot-shot attorney, much less two of them, seven years ago? Could you have afforded any kind of attorney back then, either of you? I’d have been in no condition to help, and Luke would have lost all his sponsors no matter what we did. How can you possibly say it’s for nothing?”

I bite my lip. “I just have a feeling it’s not going to work out.”

“Juliet, you don’t have that feeling because it’s not going to work out. You have that feeling because you still don’t believe you deserve a happy ending. Just this once, for me, have a little faith.”

I rise and hug her for a very long time. People are the thing that will grind your trust down to nothing. But they’re also how you to discover a small seed of something inside yourself again, something soft and hopeful and full of love, something that will grow.

I felt that once. And tonight, Donna’s helped me see it’s still there.

I hug Libby, and the two of them start walking away, but then Donna turns, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, and, Juliet, when he’s released and it all works out just the way I said, take a day or two, will you? We’ve still got that room at the hotel, after all. I’ll see you both once you’ve gotten some rest.” And then Donna, the former pastor’s wife, winks at me. And Libby, the current pastor’s wife, stands behind her with wide eyes, mouthing, “Oh my God”…before she gives me a thumbs up.

* * *

The station is relatively quiet over the next few hours. I feel ridiculously conspicuous in this red satin dress but eventually doze off and dream of Luke curled up against me.

“This is the most uncomfortable hammock I’ve ever laid on,” I tell him.

“It’s not too late. We can still go to Paris.”

I press my lips to his neck. He smells, oddly, like Windex. “I think we just need to buy a new hammock.”

“Jules,” he says, but it isn’t dream Luke. It’s real Luke. My eyes blink open to find myself splayed over two chairs, him kneeling in front of me.

His face is drawn, his jaw locked hard. He spent the night in prison because of me, and I wonder if he spent it dwelling on just how much he’s suffered at my hands, year after year. He had to watch me agree to marry Danny after I told him I’d run away with him, after years of wanting me from afar and doing anything he could to take care of me. And then he had to watch me walk away, acting as if he’d never mattered in the first place.

“Come on,” he says, rising.

I stumble to my feet and follow him outside, blinking into the too-bright sun. He walks around to the side of the station and I follow, my stomach sinking fast.

He’s staring at his phone. It feels intentional, as if he’s doing it simply to shut me out.

“Luke?” I touch his elbow. “I—”

“This is our car,” he says, as if I hadn’t spoken, nodding at a Kia swinging into the parking lot. His voice is cold, distant. He’s treating me like a woman who broke his heart, or nearly got him charged with murder, or who spent seven years lying to him. And I’m all those things, so why shouldn’t he? I swallow hard as I slide into the back seat.