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Chapter 1
"It is now safe to turn on electronic devices and unfasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying Hawaiian Airways, and aloha from Oahu," the cool female voice hummed over the intercom. In seat 9B, Shay Meyers breathed a sigh of relief.
After six hours spent gently nudging off the sleep-cuddler beside her, she was overdue for a crack at some fresh air and freedom, and the fact that she'd also be in Hawaii with her best friend would make the respite that much sweeter.
As the plane continued to glide into the gate, she pulled her cellphone from her fire-engine-red clutch and slid it out of airplane mode.
Then it happened.
The phone shook so many times and so violently that the woman snoozing beside her clutched Shay's bicep in her sleep and muttered something like, "No, Mommy. Make the earthquake stop."
"We're here," Shay said back, but rather than jarring the woman awake, it only seemed to ease her momentary distress and send her back into another round of snores.
"Good talk," Shay murmured, and then glanced down at the list of missed texts on her phone. A few were from clients—the sports publicity company she ran with her best friend had taken off in the past few months—and some were from Andy, too, wondering which gate to meet her at. But the rest...
Shay's thumb hovered over one of the messages. Her stomach clenched as she tried to determine if she should read them now or wait. As soon as she opened the chat window, her mother would know that she'd read everything. And then there would be no avoiding her.
No ignoring her.
But then maybe it was better to just rip the Band-Aid off, handle whatever lunacy was waiting for her, and then start her vacation with a clean slate.
Swallowing hard, she swiped her thumb across the screen, and a veritable slew of messages popped up in front of her. She scanned the first one quickly and then groaned.
Hey, honey. Hope your flight goes well. Listen, I know it's a little early, or maybe a lot early, to be asking, but I was wondering if you might want to spend Christmas with me and Phillip this year? Of course, it doesn't have to be Christmas. It can be any time of year. It's just been so long since I saw you, and since you couldn't make it to the wedding—
Shay closed her eyes and stuffed the phone back into her purse. Why did her mother insist on doing this to her? Making her into the bad guy? Either she played along with the delusion that husband number seven would still be around for Christmas, or she was the one person who had to say "let's play it by ear" and then allow the conversation to spiral into the fact that she didn't, in fact, plan on getting to know yet another stepfather before he inevitably hit the bricks.
She could already hear her mother practically sobbing like a sixteen-year-old. "He's different, Shay. You don't understand. He's different."
Yep, Shay never understood. At least, not according to her mother.
Not that being right ever left her feeling satisfied.
The only difference was that now she was old enough to choose not to be around to pick up the pieces.
"Momma, Momma, the rabbits," the woman next to her muttered, and then snored so loudly that a few passengers turned around to glance at her. Luckily, that was when the aisle began to fill with passengers grabbing their luggage and making their way out of the plane.
"Um, excuse me," Shay tried again, and then tapped the woman's hand.
She started, sending a mess of red spirals bouncing in front of her heart-shaped face. "Oh, God. I didn't—" The woman gasped, her cheeks turning the same scarlet as her hair.
"It's okay. Happens to the best of us," Shay said.
The woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I normally fly with my husband and he—"
"Wrangles the rabbits for you?" Shay offered her a warm smile, and the woman grinned back.
"Exactly. Ugh, I owe you one."
"It's really okay." Shay shook her head and was saved from the woman's next apology when the line beside them began to move. "Looks like that's us."
Quickly, she gathered her things and practically sprinted to the baggage claim, only stopping momentarily to text her gate number to Andy. In the brief moment that had taken, she'd spied a new message from her mother—this one undoubtedly asking why she hadn't bothered to respond to the message she'd clearly read.
There was no time for that now, though. Not when she had a whole two weeks in Hawaii with her best friend, the last two weeks they'd have before Miss Andy Archer became Mrs. Andy Grant.
Then there Andy was, waiting in front of the baggage claim in a casual green dress and jean jacket, her dishwater brown hair shoved into a sloppy ponytail.
Shay rushed toward her, crushing the bride-to-be so hard against her that she nearly cut off her own breath in the process.
"How is it?" Shay asked. "The house, I mean. Is it everything you could ever have wanted?"
"Oh my God, you're going to die. It's incredible." Andy prodded the large purple bag beside her and then said, "I've already got your bag. Ready to go?"
All the way from the airport to the main road, they chattered about the trip and the decorations in Andy's new summer home—the little Hawaiian getaway that had come as a bonus along with Andy's hunk of a husband-to-be.
Then, out of the blue, Andy said, "So, how is your mom?"
Shay rolled her eyes. "Did she text you?"
"Only once." Andy shrugged. "She was worried."
