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Chapter One
SHELLEY WALTERS STOOD on the porch of the Rockwell Resort honeymoon cottage, gazing out at Cape Cod Bay. Silver ribbons of moonlight reflected off the dark water, dancing with the motion of the tide.
She stepped from the porch onto the beach with a bottle of champagne in one hand and her cell phone in the other, and dug her toes into the sand. She was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but she liked carrying the bottle instead of a glass. It felt more celebratory. More fun.
A cool breeze brushed her dress over her thighs.
This place is perfect for a honeymoon. Seven full days and six nights of pure, unadulterated bliss.
Her phone vibrated with a call. Taryn, her cousin and closest friend.
“I was just about to text you to let you know that I’m finally here,” Shelley said as she sank down to sit in the sand and sipped the champagne. Mm. Those Rockwells don’t skimp on a thing. While researching places to honeymoon, Shelley had learned that the Rockwell family had owned the resort—and the island—for generations.
“How great is the island?”
Shelley pictured her cousin in her design studio, her long dark hair pinned up in a messy bun with a pencil securing it in place and a wide smile on her lips. With most women, Shelley felt like an accessory. Rochelle Walters, sole heir to the diamond dynasty Walters Enterprises. Her name carried weight in the social circles she worked hard to avoid—and that others clawed their way into. Luckily, Taryn didn’t care one whit about wealth or social status.
“The honeymoon cottage is just as cute as the pictures online.” Shelley sighed dreamily as she looked out over the water. “And it’s right on the beach, with the most amazing view of the bay.”
“I’m so glad you decided to do this for yourself, Shell. You’re my hero for even thinking up something as great as a solo honeymoon, let alone actually doing it!”
Shelley loved running her coffee shop, the Creek Café, and she wasn’t so overly stressed by it that she’d needed time away from her everyday life. But after watching what felt like half the single women in Maryland get married and then hearing all about their fabulous honeymoons, she’d decided she wanted one. A honeymoon, that is, not a marriage. She had yet to see a marriage where the husband and wife loved each other more than they loved material things and the idea of being married, but the honeymoons sounded spectacular.
Shelley had always followed her own path through life, letting gut instincts and her heart lead the way. So, having thrown societal norms out the window long ago, she threw caution to the wind yet again, stopped waiting for Mr. Right, and booked a solo honeymoon.
Over the years Taryn had supported all of Shelley’s whims, like moving to Maryland, buying the coffee shop, and refusing any monetary help from her parents. In fact, Taryn had made the beautiful, strapless, lacy dress that Shelley had on tonight, and she was glad she was getting to share some of the joy of being on Rockwell Island with her cousin.
“Coming in on the plane, I got a spectacular view of the whole island. It’s like paradise. I saw two marinas, a lighthouse, and lots of little ponds.”
“Kettle ponds probably,” Taryn said excitedly. “They’re common around the Cape.”
“The Cape,” Shelley repeated. “I’ve always loved the sound of that.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “There are also miles of beaches and several pools at the resort. The Rockwell Island Resort is big and fancy, but the staff is so warm and friendly that it isn’t snooty, like all those over-the-top resorts my parents dragged me to when I was growing up.”
“I can’t picture your parents ever vacationing anywhere near Cape Cod,” Taryn agreed.
“Only Aunt Marla would,” Shelley said.
Shelley’s best memories from childhood were of her weeks spent in Eastham, on the Cape with her aunt—the perfect break from the exhausting jet-set life her parents lived. One that truly had no place in it for raising or nurturing a daughter. Especially not a free spirit like Shelley. But with Aunt Marla, Shelley had spent wonderfully lazy hours looking for sea glass and meandering through the small towns. They’d cooked meals over outdoor fires and had gone fishing at the spur-of-the-moment. Aunt Marla had been the polar opposite of her sister, Shelley’s mother—spontaneous rather than rigid—and Shelley missed her aunt every day since she’d passed away five years earlier.
“Sometimes,” Shelley admitted in a low voice, “I used to pretend that I was actually her daughter.”
“Anyone would have,” Taryn said, as supportive as ever. “Marla was such a wonderful person.”
Saltwater spraying from a wave crashing to the shore helped bring Shelley back to the beach she was sitting on. It should have been easy to push the uncomfortable thoughts of her parents away, given that she’d been doing it forever. She’d had to in order to break free from their grasp and live her own life. And yet she couldn’t deny that it still hurt to realize she’d never fit in with the two people on earth who should have loved her most of all.
