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"Those are your boys?"

I follow her gaze. Wells is standing near a group of children beside the pool while Miles is talking animatedly to another boy about something that apparently requires both hands to explain.

"Yes," I say. "Wells and Miles."

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you."

"And energetic."

"That part is mostly Miles."

Margaret laughs. We turn back toward the house as another guest approaches. Margaret introduces us, and the conversation shifts toward a collection being reorganized after a recent inheritance. I listen while the woman explains enough of the situation for me to understand that she may need formal advisory help later in the year.

"I'd be happy to speak with you when you're ready," I tell her.

"I'll contact your office," she says.

"Please do."

She moves away a few minutes later, and Margaret is called toward another group. I stay where I am long enough to make a note in my phone before slipping it back into my bag.

Someone behind me says my name. I turn instinctively, but it isn't directed at me — two people farther along the terrace are greeting another guest. I start to turn back toward the lawn.

Then I see him.

Ross stands near the far end of the terrace, speaking to a man I don't recognize. For several seconds, my mind refuses to make sense of what I'm looking at.

He shouldn't be here.

He's supposed to be in London, or Geneva, or anywhere that keeps an ocean between him and the life I returned to. But he's here, in Nantucket, at the Pembrokes' estate.

His gaze moves across the reception.Then it finds me.

I stop breathing.

Ross goes completely still.

The distance between us is no more than twenty yards. My pulse pounds so hard that I can feel it in my throat. I look toward the lawn without thinking. Wells is still beside the pool. Miles is several yards away from him, laughing with another child.

Ross follows the direction of my glance.

My stomach drops.

He looks back at me, but I can't tell whether he's noticed them. I can't tell whether he has any idea what he's looking at. All I know is that the distance I spent seven years controlling has disappeared in a matter of seconds as Ross starts walking toward me.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Pembrokes’ estate is already crowded when I arrive, with guests moving between the house, terrace, and lawn beyond it.

I’m greeted before I make it through the main entrance. David Pembroke crosses the foyer with a glass in one hand and extends the other.

“Ross, I’m glad you made it,” David says.

“Thank you for having me,” I reply.

David shakes my hand firmly.