Jake, Mr. Jacobson, the kids and I settle into a sort of rhythm during the next two weeks. They show up for dinner, bringing all the food with them, and they cook it on our grill. Then Jake and I wash dishes after dinner and talk about nothing and everything while Gabby beats Mr. Jacobson at cards. Trixie puts bows in Sally’s fur, paints his nails, or brushes him until he gleams while all this is going on. Alex is the only one who’s left out.

He’s still throwing bottles into the lake with notes to God in them. Jake brings them to me. He doesn’t say anything. He just passes them over and I take them. They all say the same thing. They’re beseeching God to send his dad back because he thinks we’re in trouble.

And we are. The longer we’re here, the more I feel it. He’s going to come. He’s going to wreck the peace I’ve built here.

“Hey, Jake,” I ask as I dry the last glass after dinner.

“Hey, Katie,” he replies with a smile.

“Do you have Wi-Fi at the big house?”

He nods. “Sure do.”

“Do you think I could come and use it?” I have it on my phone, but of course I didn’t bring that with me.

“Sure,” he says. He stares hard at me. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” I respond, shrugging off his concern with a breezy wave. Over the past two weeks, Jake has stopped looking at me like I’m a puzzle he has to figure out. He’s become my friend again. A friend who occasionally places lingering kisses on my forehead, or sits on the couch next to me with his hand on my belly, trying to get the baby to bop his palm. “I just want to do some Web searching.”

“You can go now, if you want,” he says, nodding his head toward the big house. “I’ll stay here with the kids.”

“Oh, Gabby can watch them.”

“Gabby is currently winning every last dollar in Pop’s wallet.”

“I’m going to make her give it all back. I promise.”

“Are you kidding?” he says on a laugh. “This is the most fun Pop has had in a long time. Don’t you dare make her give it back.”

I shake my head. “She can’t just keep it. It’s not right.”

“It’s right. She deserves it. She should get a babysitting fee just for keeping the old man entertained. Since she’s started playing cards with him, I haven’t had to go to the bingo hall and get him out of bingo jail even once.”

“Bingo jail?”

“It’s where they put old men who get grab-ass-y. Bingo jail. I’ve had to bail Pop out more than once.”

“He always was a pistol.” I place the last dish in the cabinet. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go to use the Wi-Fi?”

“Positive,” he says. “Go ahead. The door is open and the password is on the back of the modem on the kitchen counter.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Impulsively, I step onto my tiptoes, put my hand on his shoulder, and kiss him on the cheek.

He leans in to kiss me on the cheek too, but accidentally grazes the corner of my mouth. My heart begins to beat double time. “You should go,” he whispers, his cheek lingering close to mine.

“I should go,” I say. But I don’t. I stand there next to him, breathing the same air as Jake, enjoying the moment.

Suddenly, the door opens and we spring apart. “Hey, Jake,” Alex says, tossing the football up in the air and catching it. “Want to toss the football around?”

“Hell yeah,” Jake says, and he dries his hands on a towel. Then he opens his arms and Alex tosses him the ball. “Go ahead, Katie,” he tells me. “Take the golf cart.”

“Thanks, Jake.” I get my computer from the bedroom and take Mr. Jacobson’s golf cart to their house.

It’s a big house set on a hill, with a fantastic view of the water. I set up the Wi-Fi and open my computer, then check my email.

There are hundreds of emails, mostly from him. The one person I don’t want to talk to is the only one who seems to want to communicate with me. The emails go from pleading and sweet to venom and loathing. They’re threatening, then apologetic, then loaded with curse words and swearing. He swears he will find me. He swears he will love me. He swears he will never stop looking. He swears he will be a better person. He swears he will change. He swears he will get help.

I believed that one. Once. I believed he could.

Then, the very last email, which was sent four days ago, opens up in my inbox.

I drop my head into my hands. Then I forward all the emails, every last one, to the agent back home who is assigned to my case.

The baby kicks, and I suddenly have to pee.

I leave the computer open, because I still haven’t done the Web searches I wanted to do. I wanted to check the newspapers back home and see if there’s anything I need to be aware of. There’s always the tiny chance that he has done something stupid and he’s in prison again. That would be a blessing. But the agent assigned to my case would have gotten a message to me by now if that had happened.

I wander down the hallway, trying to remember the way to the bathroom. I open the first door I come to and stop when I realize it’s Jake’s room. It hasn’t changed. His baseball trophies still line the shelf and he has pictures stuck to the corners of his dresser mirror. I step closer and see one of him and Fred when they were young. Fred came here every summer, from what Jake told me. They were pretty close, partners in crime. They got into more trouble than two people should be allowed to get into. The picture of Fred with his bright red hair makes me smile. We had a lot of good times together, the three of us.

But what makes me stop, heave in a breath, and clutch my heart, is the picture in the frame on the edge of his bedside table. It’s grown-up Jake. And a woman. He has his arm around her and she’s glowing. So is he. She has golden hair that hangs past her shoulders, and her face is radiant in the sunshine. She’s also very, very pregnant.

“I was supposed to be a dad,” a voice says from behind me.

I startle, and Jake walks up behind me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” he says, his voice heavy and full of emotion. He swallows hard.

“What does that mean?”

“You first, Katie,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward the kitchen. “I saw your computer.”

“What right do you have to snoop through my computer!”

“I have every right,” he says. I open my mouth to ream him a new one, but he holds up a finger and shushes me. “I have loved you since I was a kid, Katie.” He lays a hand upon his chest. “I still love you.”

My breath hitches. He has no idea how much I needed to hear that.

“Who’s stalking you, why, and why the hell is he telling you he’s going to kill you when he finds you?”

I blow out a breath. “Jake…”

“Katie…”

I point at the picture. “Tell me about her.”

“She was my wife. And she’s not anymore.”

“And?” I roll my finger to make him keep talking.

“And nothing. That’s all there is to it.”

“Liar. There’s more.” I narrow my eyes and stare at him. “She’s why you’re here. She’s why you’re not working. Tell me everything, Jake.”

He glares at me. “You first.”