I was quiet, and Jason, so in tune to me and all that I was, said, “He’s going to be okay, darling.”
“I know,” I said. “The prognosis is really good, but still . . .”
“Yeah,” he said. He pressed his forehead to mine, and we both took a moment to remember the ones we’d lost. It was who we were and what we did. He leaned back and brushed my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “Jess would have loved you.”
I grinned, because I knew this was the highest praise he could possibly give me, and I said, “And my mother would have adored you.”
His smile deepened. We got lost in each other for a moment, as we sometimes did. Our love was so shiny and bright and new, it distracted. It wasn’t until Annabelle reached over and tugged on my arm that I glanced away from my man.
“What?” I asked my sister. I tried not to grimace at the thought of what the two of us must look like in our pink—thankfully revised to a tasteful shell pink—dresses. I was still going to burn all the pictures of me in this dress, for sure, which was fine because knowing Annabelle, there’d be a life-size cutout made of us for my birthday. Because that was how she rolled.
“While I adore seeing you on cloud nine,” Annabelle said with a grin, “it looks like something is about to happen.” She pointed, and I glanced in the direction of the stage.
Standing in front of the band was Sheri Armstrong—excuse me, Sheri Martin. She had decided to take Dad’s name. She was in a cream-colored dress with a delicate lace bodice and an organza skirt with a matching lace trim. She looked lovely, and my father hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her all evening.
Even though it had caused me a pang or two, I knew I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was happy for him—truly, I was. I’d made an effort to spend some time with Sheri over the past few weeks. I didn’t know if we’d ever be super close, because I still struggled with her replacing my mom, even though I knew that was my issue and not hers. But I thought we could probably become friends, good friends, in time. At least, I was going to try.
“Ahem.” Sheri cleared her throat. Her dark hair was up in an artful twist and held in place with pearl hair clips. “Can you hear me?”
Her voice boomed across the reception, making her start and then laugh at herself for jumping. She smiled at her new husband, and he grinned back.
“First, I want to thank you for attending our wedding,” she said. Her voice was soft with genuine gratitude. “I am so pleased that you all could come.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought Sheri’s gaze lingered on me for a moment. When I felt Jason’s fingers squeeze mine, I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
“But there is someone who isn’t here today who I would like to take a moment to thank, because it’s important,” she said. Her hand was shaking, and her voice quavered with a bit of emotion. She held out her free hand to my dad, and he took it in his. Looking at him with love and tenderness shining on her face, she said, “I want to thank Christine Martin for teaching our husband to be the kind, loving, and patient man that he is. And I want her to know that I love him with all of my heart and will care for him, always, with all that I am.”
Well, that was unexpected. I felt my eyes fill up and my throat got tight. Annabelle leaned over and wrapped an arm about me, bracing me. I noted that her eyes were watery, too.
“And I want to promise all of you who were lucky enough to have Christine in your life and to be loved by her that I will honor her memory all the days of our life together.”
Dad hugged his new wife close, and I saw him swipe away a tear beneath his glasses. When he looked at Sheri, I saw him say, “Thank you.”
In that moment, I realized I had been wrong about Sheri. Completely and utterly wrong. My dad had been right. She was special, and he’d been able to figure it out in just two weeks. Smart man. I glanced at Jason with a stricken face, and he nodded in understanding. He knew what I had to do, and he supported me. I kissed him quick and then stood up. I took Annabelle’s hand in mine and dragged her toward the stage.
“Oh no, we’re not making a scene right now, are we?” Annabelle asked. She sounded panicked as she hurried to keep up with me. “I mean, it was nice what she said, wasn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I stopped in front of my father and his new wife. I gazed at the petite woman who was nothing like my own mother but who made my father happy nonetheless. I wiped the tears off my face, opened my arms, and said, “Welcome to the family . . . Mom.”
acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank for the creation of this book, I hardly know where to begin.
Thanks to my son Wyatt. If I hadn’t been waiting for you outside that Circle K on a cold December morning when we were late getting you to school, the idea might have flown right by me. Thanks, kid. And, yes, feel free to remind me of this when I get cranky that we’re late.
Big gratitude to my amazing agent, Christina Hogrebe, who gasped when I threw the idea at her, quite randomly, and insisted I stop what I was doing and write this book immediately. You’ve been this story’s champion from day one and it is much appreciated.
Huge thanks to my brilliant editor, Kate Seaver, who embraced this story wholeheartedly and offered invaluable input and insight and endless encouragement during the process, earning an editorial Medal of Valor for going above and beyond to make this story the absolute best it could be.
Much appreciation to my amazing team at Berkley: Brittanie Black, Jessica Mangicaro, Danielle Keir, and Natalie Sellars. Thank you, all, for your support, enthusiasm, and hard work on behalf of this book.
Many thanks to my plot group pals, Paige Shelton and Kate Carlisle, who cheered me on and helped me plug plot holes from the beginning to the end.
On a personal note, I am ever grateful to my beta readers, Alyssa Amaturo, Annette Amaturo, and Susan McKinlay. Your input, enthusiasm, and encouragement were invaluable.
Shout-out to my brother, Jon McKinlay. You gave me the nuts and bolts of the city you’ve built, Boston, and I couldn’t have written about it without you. Thanks, bro!
Many thanks to my son Beckett. You were such a trooper to hike so many miles around Paris with me, and I really appreciate that you kept me from getting lost, repeatedly. I will treasure being on the top of the Eiffel Tower with you and your brother always.
Unending gratitude to Chris Hansen Orf, aka the Hub. Your support of my work means the world to me and I’m so glad I have you to talk it out when the words get stuck. You’re the best!
Lastly, I want to acknowledge my family and friends, for your unflagging encouragement; my fellow writers, who’ve been so supportive; and my readers, whose enthusiasm is always a light in the darkness for me.
Every book is a journey and this one was a steep climb, but none of you let me fall. Thank you all so very much.
questions for discussion
1. When Chelsea discovers her father is getting remarried, she has a strong reaction—one that causes her to rethink the last seven years of her life. Could you sympathize with Chelsea’s feelings and her decisions in the wake of her father’s announcement?
2. Chelsea decides to revisit her past to move forward with her future. Have you ever considered or taken a similar journey in your life? What was it? Did you find it helpful?
3. What does Chelsea hope to achieve in revisiting her post-college gap year?
4. Have you been to Ireland, France, or Italy? Do you have a favorite foreign country you’ve visited or you’d like to visit? What about that place appeals to you?
5. Which of Chelsea’s former three loves—Colin, Jean Claude, or Marcellino—is your favorite? Why?
6. When does Chelsea start to see her work rival, Jason, in a different light? Have you ever had a similar experience—where your relationship with someone unexpectedly takes on a new dimension? What spurred viewing that person in a new way?
7
. How does grief play a role in both Chelsea’s and Jason’s lives?
8. How does Chelsea’s relationship with her family change during the course of the book?
9. What does Chelsea discover about herself by revisiting her past? How is Chelsea different at the end of the novel from who she was at the beginning?
Photo by Jacqueline Hanna Photography
JENN McKINLAY is the award-winning, New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of several mystery and romance series. Her work has been translated into multiple languages in countries all over the world. She lives in sunny Arizona in a house that is overrun with kids, pets, and her husband’s guitars.
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Paris Is Always a Good Idea Page 34
