AMES LAY AWAKE all night, adrenaline still flying through his veins, his heart stuttering and racing in fits.

The day with Nicky had been pretty okay, up until then. They’d gone for a walk on the beach and climbed the rocks exposed by low tide. Had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. James had read Hungry, Hungry Sharks four times in a row. They’d played hangman and tic-tac-toe. Drew pictures. Told knock-knock jokes.

The whole time, James had watched the kid like a hawk. Didn’t let him out of his sight. Said no to every dangerous activity the kid suggested, which had ruled out climbing trees, jumping on Parker’s bed, a game of hide-and-seek and swimming.

“Let’s use the nail gun,” the kid had suggested.

James had considered it. Pictured taking Nicky to the E.R. because he had a nail through his hand. “Maybe tomorrow.”

The kid pushed out his bottom lip. “You kissed my mom.” It was an accusation.

James took a slow breath. “Right. I did.”

“Why?”

What do you say to that? “Well, she’s nice.”

“She’s my mother.”

“Oh, definitely. Your mother.”

And the kid had seemed satisfied with that. Then he’d asked if he could play his little handheld computer game, and James said sure, he had to make a quick phone call. Went into the kitchen, called Goldman Sachs and told Mitch Stravitz no thanks.

Because Parker Harrington Welles loved him, and he wasn’t going to move a hundred and fifty miles away from her. No way.

He hung up, gave the mac and cheese a stir, glanced into the living room. The kid was gone.

At first, James had thought Nicky had gone to the bathroom. A minute or two later, he knocked. No answer. Opened the door. No kid. “Nicky?” he’d called.

Not in either bedroom. Not in the kitchen. Not on the patio. Not in the yard, not in the truck. James heard his voice growing louder, then more desperate.

The dock.

The water had been as cold as death, and it was hard to see, the salt stinging his eyes. Rocks. A beer can. A school of fish, darting away into the dark, deep water.

The lake water had been much clearer the day Mary Elizabeth had almost drowned. Her little hand, so peaceful almost, no resistance left in it, like an underwater plant, drifting in the current—

“Nicky!” he heard himself yell, his voice hoarse with terror. “Nick!”

Two more dives before he realized he needed help. Called 911. Went back in the water until the dive team came and James was shaking so hard with cold that he couldn’t speak.

Then Parker’s face, utterly white in the deepening gloom of the night. You lost my son, her eyes said. You killed my baby.

And then she found him. All by herself, she figured out what the entire fire and police department and twenty-five volunteers couldn’t.

The little bastard was hiding.

“Didn’t you hear James calling you?” she’d asked sharply, even as she clutched him against her.

“We were playing! It was a game!”

“Now, now, don’t be too hard on the little guy,” the fire chief had said. Easy for him to say. In that moment, James was so, so glad he wasn’t a father, because honestly, he could’ve killed the kid, he was so relieved.

Parker hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the night, too focused on her son. A doctor was there—Maggie’s brother-in-law—and he’d checked Nicky out for any concussion or whatnot. Hard to believe the kid had slept through fire sirens and all, but Parker confirmed her son slept like a rock. Her eyes slid off James’s face as if she hated him.

Twenty-four hours from love to hate.

He couldn’t blame her. He’d lost her son, and the kid could’ve just as easily gone into the water and died, all because James had no fucking clue. You should’ve paid attention, his father had screamed at him in the hospital after Mary Elizabeth had been whisked away. You stupid, selfish little shit, each word a bullet.

No. Family life was not for him.

This whole thing with Parker was over. That was clear.

* * *

WHEN THE SUN HAD FINALLY risen and a decent-enough hour approached, James got dressed. Dockers, blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up. His carpentry work was finished.

He looked in the window; Lavinia was already here, playing cards with Nicky on the floor of the kitchen. James knocked.

“Hey there, Jamie,” Lavinia said. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

“I’m looking for Parker, if she has a minute,” he answered. “Hi, Nick.”

Nicky didn’t answer. Refused to even look at him.

At that moment, Parker came into the kitchen, and the sight of her hit him like a truck.

“James. Hi,” she said warily.

“Hi. Sorry it’s so early.” It was after nine, not really early at all. “Got a sec?”

“Sure. Um, Nicky, I’ll be right back. Vin, you don’t mind keeping an eye on him, do you?”

“Not a bit,” Lavinia answered. “See you, James.”

So Lavinia already knew he was toast.

Parker came out and walked around the house to the street side. Not down on the dock, thank God. She stopped and folded her arms.

“Parker, I’m so sorry,” James began.

“It’s okay. Nicky hides all the time. All’s well that ends well. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sure it was. He could feel it.

“Thank you for trying to find him,” she added, finally meeting his eyes. “It must’ve been horrible for you.”

“No. I mean, it was… I thought he—” The thought was too unspeakable to finish. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Yes.” She looked at the yellow and orange lilies along the fence, which she’d liberated from a bank of weeds a couple of weeks ago. “I heard you took a job in Manhattan.”

Harry must’ve told her. “Yeah.”

“It sounds perfect for you. Congratulations.”

And there it was. “Thanks. They just called. Last week.”

She nodded, glancing at him, then away again. “James, I’m sorry about the conversation the other night. I was…I don’t know. Caught up in the whole summer-romance thing. Sorry if I seemed like another desperate single woman talking babies. The truth is, I don’t want any more kids. One’s enough, right?”

“Yeah. Sure, he’s a great kid.” He glanced at the house. “Anything else you need me to do here?” he asked.

“No. Thank you. You were so helpful, James.”

He nodded. “Well, I’ll probably see you before you head back for Rhode Island. I have to help Dewey with a couple things, so I’ll be around. I’ll…I’ll pick up Apollo before I go.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, he went back to his truck and backed out of the driveway.