by Beck, Jamie
Peyton closed the book and shared a group hug with her oldest, dearest friends.
A tap on the door forced them apart before Logan poked his head in. “Ladies, how about you save this reunion for a time when there aren’t a bunch of people hanging around?”
They all wiped their eyes and uttered some version of “Okay.”
When they rejoined the party, Mitch came to Peyton and snaked his arm around her waist. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect.”
He screwed up his face. “Think you’ll feel the same way tomorrow when you meet my mom and sister?”
“I think I’ll feel that way anytime I’m with you.” She stroked her hand across his chest.
“Then maybe you should move back to the city.” Mitch swigged some beer that he must’ve swapped with the champagne while she’d been MIA. “I have some empty drawers and closet space you could use.”
“What exactly are you offering?”
“The book tour is over now. I know you’re still weighing your next career move, but whatever you choose to do, move in and make your home base with me.” His intense gaze still arrested her like it had from the get-go.
“You don’t think we’re moving too fast?”
Mitch shook his head. “We’ve both been around the block and learned from past mistakes. We’re old enough to know when something is right, and too wise to waste time.”
Given her health scares, she knew something about not wanting to waste a single minute. She wound her arms around his neck. “Well, this sure feels right to me.”
“So you’ll move in?”
With a quick kiss, she said, “I will. I’ve actually been considering surveying a class at NYU to see if I’d like going back for a master’s, so it’d be nice to be in the city.”
“Wow. What brought that decision on?”
“I’ve been mulling over what you said to me at Arcadia, and some recent fan mail has given me more confidence about the idea.”
“Well, that’s something else we can celebrate.” He kissed her.
“When we leave this party, we’ll steal some champagne and celebrate in private.”
“Sounds like a plan.” His broad smile had become her heart’s home.
She kissed his nose. “And I know how much you appreciate a plan.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I have many people to thank for helping me bring this book to all of you—not the least of whom are my family and friends for their continued love, encouragement, and support. My poor kids have had one too many take-out dinners lately.
Thanks, also, to my agent, Jill Marsal; as well as to my patient editors, Chris Werner and Krista Stroever; and the entire Montlake family for believing in me and working so hard on my behalf.
A special thanks to Ally Dunlap, who shared her experience with breast cancer with me, and to Carol Cofone-Hoffmann for sharing her false-positive postcancer checkup story with me. While each patient has his or her own journey and perspective with this disease, I know I couldn’t have written Peyton’s story without insight from these two women. And to my wonderful publicist, Crystal Patriarche, whose fascinating tale of starting her fabulous empire (BookSparks) and of its ups and downs inspired some of Mitch’s experiences. My dear friend and amazing author Wendy Walker also shared the details of her European book tour to help me plan Peyton’s journey, so I’m both jealous of and grateful for her experience. Also, thank you to Mary Frieberg for helping me with the bit of Catalan dialogue in this book, and to Krista Stroever for correcting my French! I also owe my gratitude to Sonali Dev and Liz Talley, who helped me untangle a plot knot that had me stuck mid-draft. And last but not least, my dear friend Jane Haertel (the “punniest” person I know), deserves credit for coming up with Peyton’s Insta handle, Globejotter!
I couldn’t produce any of my work without the MTBs, who help me plot and keep my spirits up when doubt grabs hold. And as noted in the dedication, my Fiction From The Heart sisters also inspire me on a daily basis.
And I can’t leave out the wonderful members of my CTRWA chapter. Year after year, all the CTRWA members provide endless hours of support, feedback, and guidance. I love and thank them for that.
Finally, and most importantly, thank you, readers, for making my work worthwhile. Considering all your options, I’m honored by your choice to spend your time with me.
AN EXCERPT FROM
IF YOU MUST KNOW
EDITOR’S NOTE: THIS IS AN EARLY EXCERPT AND MAY NOT REFLECT THE FINISHED BOOK.
Chapter One
AMANDA
There ought to be a warning anytime you wake up on a day that will forever change your life. Some harbinger—like a robin, lightning bolt, or black cat—so you don’t find yourself blindsided. This morning’s brilliant sunshine did not exactly scream, “Beware, today you’ll discover that the most destructive lies are the ones you tell yourself.”
If anything, the clear blue sky promised a perfect spring day. And so, blissfully ignorant, I stopped at Sugar Momma’s on my way home from my routine three-mile walk along Chesapeake Bay. Normally, I’d never order a peanut butter–chocolate chunk cookie the size of a dessert plate and a decaffeinated salted-caramel latte with extra whipped cream at nine o’clock in the morning.
My husband, Lyle, wouldn’t approve, especially not while I was pregnant. But he’d been away on business all week. While I wouldn’t encourage anyone to lie to a spouse, in this case, what Lyle didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
If anything, I deserved this little—or not so little—cheat. Lately, my mostly charming husband had turned into a male version of Martha Stewart on steroids. It worried me to see how the pressure of putting together his new company’s first real estate development deal was affecting him.
I’d done everything and anything to relieve his stress. Sex on demand. A gift certificate for a massage by Leslie Cooper, the best in town. Preparing his favorite meals. I even switched to lavender-scented cleaning products to create a soothing environment in our house. Thank God I had my mom to talk to because, on days when his mood blew cold, I would’ve been lost without her as my sounding board.
I broke off a section of the still-warm cookie and took a nibble. My eyelids drooped from the weight of cocoa-infused ecstasy. “Oh my goodness, Hannah. This is delicious.”
Everything about her and her bakeshop intrigued me. They were my favorite discovery since moving into our new house a few blocks away back in December. The decor of her shop matched the bold colors she draped across her generous figure. Her ruby-red lips perfectly framed a larger-than-life smile and complemented her dark complexion. And she gathered all her braids into a single ponytail that was as thick as a fire hose.
I didn’t know Hannah as well as I would have liked. We only spoke here, where her animated personality filled the shop with positive energy. My early attempts to forge a friendship failed when I sensed her keeping me in the “patron” box. Maybe she thought me too buttoned-up to be an interesting friend. Yet I often found myself wondering about her friends and family. Pictured her in a busy home kitchen, testing recipes. Imagined her knitting in her spare time—possibly because some of the shawls and vests she wore looked handmade. Most of all, I wondered what kind of partner could handle all her vivacity.
Not someone like Lyle. He preferred white tablecloths and efficient waiters to her and her eclectic shop—with its mismatched tables and chairs, folk art, and hipster music. I never argued the point, because it wasn’t a hill worth dying on, but I found the whole vibe here warm and inviting. A friendly sort of place where you could exhale.
Hannah layered whipped cream on my coffee while winking at me. “Amanda, get yourself another cookie. You’re eating for two.”
I shook my head, begging off. “I need to watch myself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She tsked, then proceeded to squirt a liberal amount of liquid caramel atop the whipped cream.
“I promised Lyle I’d be goo
d, for the baby’s sake.” When I rubbed my six-month bump, our daughter kicked my hand, thanks to the sugar rush. My heart always flipped a bit over the miracle happening inside my body, which shot my love for our growing family to a level beyond anything I’d ever dreamed. These past months I’d been exercising, sleeping plenty, and taking vitamins, while cutting way back on sugar and processed foods. “This morning’s little detour has to stay our secret.”
Hannah handed me the coffee, grinning. “That’s exactly what he always says.”
Wait, what?
“He does, does he?” Apprehension sank its nails into my spine. I chomped on the cookie to keep from saying something I might later regret.
I couldn’t exactly be angry with Lyle when I was planning to keep my visit a secret. On the other hand, it wouldn’t need to be a secret if he weren’t so militant about my prenatal diet. It got on my nerves at times, but I knew he loved our daughter and me and wanted only the best for us. Still . . .
“Haven’t seen Lyle all week. Where is he, anyway?” Hannah raised her brows while she waited.
I choked on the cookie. Did he really stop in that often? “Away on business. Big deal in the offing.”
She must’ve been exaggerating. It was the only explanation that made any sense to me. Lately he’d been obsessed about diet and exercise. Sugar Momma’s heavy aroma of sugar and butter alone should make him run in the opposite direction.
“Mm, that man works hard. He always looks sharp in his jacket and tie. A man who means business, am I right?” Hannah chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that warmed the soul like my latte. “He keeps saying he can find me a better, cheaper space in town, but I like this location.”
“Don’t you dare move, Hannah. This shop is perfect for you.” I hoped she couldn’t see how shocked I was to be learning these things about my own husband.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2016 Lorah Haskins
National bestselling author Jamie Beck’s realistic and heartwarming stories have sold more than two million copies. She’s a Booksellers’ Best Award and National Readers’ Choice Award finalist, and critics at Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, and Booklist have respectively called her work “smart,” “uplifting,” and “entertaining.” In addition to writing, the author of the Cabot novels, the Sterling Canyon novels, and the St. James series enjoys dancing around the kitchen while cooking and hitting the slopes in Vermont and Utah. Above all, she is a grateful wife and mother to a very patient, supportive family.
Fans can learn more about her on her website, www.jamiebeck.com, which includes a fun “Extras” page with photos, videos, and playlists. She also loves interacting with everyone on Facebook at www.facebook.com/JamieBeckBooks.
