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Arden needed to walk.

She bundled up and barreled onto the sidewalk outside Phoebe’s building, full of some weird, manic energy. She walked fast, past corner stores and restaurants and groups of people taking up the whole sidewalk. She walked until she was puffing up a hill and had entered a more residential area, the street lined with beautiful old houses and their sleeping winter gardens.

In front of a particularly sweet but modest house—redbrick with a green front door, hung with a Christmas wreath—Arden stopped and allowed herself to imagine a future with Sam. She imagined, five years from now, that they were married and living in a house like this one. Close to his parents and siblings. They would see them on weekends, on holidays. They would all drive to the coast together every summer to stay in a seaside cabin. She and Sam would make dinner together after work, read together in bed before turning out the lights. Maybe they would even have a baby.

The idea made Arden’s stomach flip with happiness, with longing. But also with something more uncomfortable. Because if that imagined future really came to pass, it would mean that Arden had left her home behind. Flamingo Cottage. High Springs. Her school. Her friends.

And no matter how romantic it sounded, the idea of leaving her entire life for a man—even a wonderful man—made her uneasy.

Her mom had done something similar, though not exactly the same. She had grown up in South Florida, and her entire family still lived there. When she’d met Arden’s dad at the University of Florida, she’d decided to stay there with him when he found a job after college. And look how well that had turned out.

Of course she had gotten married, bought a house, and had Arden. Their life hadn’t been all bad. But it had ended in heartbreak and divorce. Arden should ask her mom about it. About whether she regretted the decision to stay there with him. Even if part of Arden didn’t want to know the answer.

As she walked, meandering farther into the quiet neighborhood, the houses still twinkling with holiday lights, she dug deeper into the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. It took her a moment to realize that there was another reason she was hesitant to jump back into Sam’s arms.

She was starting to feel a sense of peace—even more than peace: ease and contentment—with the idea of being alone. She’d accomplished so much of her list, and she felt like it was working. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she was over Peter Blake now. She wasn’t worried about falling back into her old patterns. So maybe she should find out who she could be, alone.

Obviously, there was the possibility that she and Sam could try long distance for a while, that Arden was getting way ahead of herself by imagining living here in Seattle with him. But long-distance relationships were always just temporary, right? Until the couple could be together permanently?

So what if she just accepted that what she had with Sam was a beautiful moment in time, like a scene in a snow globe? What if the experience simply made her happy to remember and gave her strength to carry on with her head held high?

Arden came across a tiny park, so small she wondered if it was some sort of secret garden. There was a single bench and a stone birdbath that gurgled gently. She sat on the bench, watching a sparrow dip its beak into the fountain, and felt a bone-deep contentment settle over her. It was a brand-new feeling to Arden. The feeling of being completely present and happy with her own company.

If nothing else came from this trip, at least she had that.

Chapter 27

Phoebe

Phoebe had just hung up the phone after talking to Sam, and the conversation left her feeling unsettled. She had thought Sam would be happy, that he would tell her he was going to find Arden right away. But he’d just been angry. At Phoebe.

Which made total sense after the way she’d meddled, but still… it didn’t feel great. She and Sam almost never argued.

She was wondering if she should text him to ask if he was going to patch things up with Arden when there was a knock on the front door.

Startled, Phoebe wondered if it was a delivery or one of Arden’s friends who didn’t know she was out of town. Phoebe checked her hair and teeth in the round mirror hanging by the front door, then opened it.

Jonathan stood there, hands in the pockets of his jeans, hair tucked behind his ears. He had a small, uncertain smile on his face.

“Jonathan!” Phoebe wondered vaguely why her heart thumped painfully at the sight of him, but she would have to think about that question later. “What are you doing here? Come in!”

“Hey.” He skirted past her—no hug, Phoebe noticed—and stood in the middle of Arden’s living room.

“What’s up? You didn’t bring your laptop? Did you want to get some work done?”

“No, I…” Jonathan’s gaze roved around the room until, with some determination, he looked straight at her. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Phoebe swallowed. This was good. She had wanted to talk to him, too. Hadn’t she? “Okay…”

Some of her confusion must have been apparent in her voice, because Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is it okay if we talk about something other than the business?”

“Of course.”

“Because last night, it felt like we were sort of—”

“We were! I thought so, too. Sorry, do you want something to drink?”