She shrugged, not needing to go on. Sam already knew the rest of it.

  “He left you. I wouldn’t do that.”

  He hadn’t understood what she was trying to say. “You’re asking me to leave the home I’ve created for myself. I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you stay here in Seahaven?”

  He paused a beat too long before scrambling to answer. “My work is in Chicago. All my contacts. I own a home there. I grew up there. My family—”

  “I’ve got all that here if you substitute friends for family, but you think it’s fine to ask me to walk away from it.” She wasn’t going to give an inch on that point.

  “It’s different.”

  “How?”

  She could tell he was searching for an answer and struggling to find one, but she could also tell he thought the reason should be self-evident.

  He was the man. Which meant his work was more important than hers, his friends more important. His preferences more important. Just like Todd had.

  “My business is here in Seahaven,” she said evenly, not waiting any longer. “So are my teaching job and my friends. I put a man first for a long time. I let Todd take the wheel and control my life because I thought he would provide me with the family I wanted, and that would make my sacrifices worthwhile.”

  “I want a family,” Sam said.

  “But I’m not willing to sacrifice myself anymore. I’ve planted myself here,” she said. “I’m staying here, Sam. I’m putting my needs first. I like you—a lot. I might love you. Maybe I could marry you. Maybe you’re the one.” She shrugged. “I’ll never find out if it means I have to leave my home again.”

  She held her breath. Every fibre of her being wanted to take it all back and do anything it took to see if what she had with Sam was really all that it seemed to be. She didn’t want to be single anymore. She wanted the family she’d always dreamed of.

  She wasn’t going to give in to that desire, though. Maybe she would spend the rest of her life alone.

  At least it would be her life she was living.

  Was happiness too much to ask for? Sam’s chest burned with the bitter taste of Ava’s refusal and the knowledge that another man had poisoned her against him. If she’d never met Todd, if he’d never dragged her around the world for years on end, she wouldn’t have thought twice about the small adventure of moving from California to Chicago. He wasn’t going to feel bad about asking her to move, though. His start-up was bound to out-earn her teaching job—by a lot, which made it practical to choose Chicago over California. He had a whole family close by there who would help if and when he had children. Wasn’t that important?

  Or did Ava think she’d earn enough from her vacation rental to cover costs when her kids were little? Would she miss her friends as much if she moved away as he would miss his family if he did?

  Ava was watching him. Waiting patiently, one eyebrow cocked as if saying, “Yes, it’s complicated, isn’t it?”

  Sam didn’t know what to think. Ava had said she liked him—maybe could love him. Then she’d put her foot down. Here she was and here she’d stay. It wasn’t very romantic. If he was honest, he felt like the ground was shifting right out from under his feet. He hadn’t thought through his invitation very well, had he? He’d thought he was offering Ava something special, but she already had a home of her own. She had a job and a business, too. She could provide for herself.

  So what did she even need him for, anyway?

  “I don’t know what to say,” he finally managed.

  “Maybe there isn’t anything to say.” Ava smiled sadly. “Maybe there’s no such thing as finding ‘the one.’ Maybe there’s only the one who’s convenient, and we’re not convenient to each other.”

  “But—”

  “I need to go, Sam. I think you do, too. Go talk to Ben and Chloe. Sort things out.”

  She didn’t even want to spend the day with him. True regret washed through Sam. Would he ever have another shot at what he and Ava could have had together?

  “Ava.” He couldn’t seem to get his footing in this conversation. She was wrapping it up too fast. They hadn’t said the important things.

  Or maybe they had.

  Hopelessness washed through him. When Chloe had finally showed her true colors in their relationship, Sam had felt hurt but also empty, as if their final fight was only proof of what he’d already known. This was different. The pain in his heart was so searing he wasn’t sure he could stand up, let alone watch Ava walk away.

  “You want a ride?” She gathered her cup and stood.

  “I think I’ll walk.” He stayed where he was. How could she be so matter of fact about this? Had he been wrong in thinking she cared for him?

  She nodded and shut her eyes for a second, holding on to the back of her chair. Her knuckles were white, her lips pinched together. Sam made to rise—he wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and make the pain so clear on her face disappear, but before he could, she got a hold of herself again. She opened her eyes. Blinked a few times. Drew her shoulders back. “Good luck with everything.”

  “I’ll see you again before I go,” he said so sharply a few of the other customers turned their way. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and he needed her to know this wasn’t over. Not yet.

  He thought she’d say something then, but in the end she shook her head and hurried out the door, leaving him wanting to flip the table over and go after her. With difficulty, he kept his seat and forced himself to finish his cup of coffee. She needed time to think and so did he.

  There had to be a way to be with Ava, without losing everything he’d spent his life to build.

  A half hour later, when he’d finally found the strength to walk to the hotel, he was so caught up in trying to solve this puzzle he didn’t hear Ben calling out to him before they met on the sidewalk.

  “I was wondering where you’d got to.” Ben turned to walk with him. He was pretending to be cheerful again, which meant something was wrong.

  “Did Chloe send you? Because I’m not going on some excursion.” Sam could barely breathe. He knew the day was warm, the sun shining, but everything seemed distant, the light all wrong.

  “No excursions today. Everyone is doing their own thing.”

  “Chloe’s allowing that?”

  Ben shot him a look.

  “What?” Sam demanded, fighting to get the words out past the pain in his throat. “Come on, she’s run this whole vacation like a drill sergeant.” He had no patience for any of this right now. He was losing Ava. Had lost her already, maybe.

  “That’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

  “What are you here to talk about?” In another minute he was going to lose what little control he had left over his temper. He had to figure out how to change Ava’s mind.

  “I was wrong the other day when I said Chloe should start her own business, especially when she’s close to bringing us a buyer.”

  “I don’t want to sell the company.”

  “I think we have to. It isn’t fair to everyone else if we don’t.”

  “How is it not fair?” Sam stopped short and faced him. “We hired these people—including Chloe—to do jobs. We pay them salaries. There’s no reason for that to stop.”

  “But Chloe—”

  “Chloe is an employee!” Sam burst out. “She doesn’t call the shots. She wasn’t here when we founded the company. She didn’t put in sixty- to seventy-hour workweeks like the rest of us did. So why the hell is she dictating anything we do?” He held his hands out wide. “Who even told her she could look for a buyer or negotiate on our behalf if she found one? Huh? That’s not in her job description. She’s supposed to be looking for school districts to partner with. In fact, that’s going to be the first mark against her in her file. If you won’t ask her to leave, then I’m going to fire her just as soon as I’ve got the paper trail that will let me do it.”

  “That’s my future wife you’re talking about.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Sam shot back. “You’re not married yet. But already you’re acting like she gets to make all the decisions in your life. A couple of days ago you knew as well as I did that having her in the company was bad for everyone. You and I didn’t build Scholar Central to hand it off to someone else to run; we built our dream career. Why would we give it away?”

  “Because Chloe and I want to buy a house in the suburbs.”

  “What?” The sentence was so incongruous, Sam couldn’t follow Ben’s train of thought at all. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “We need money, lots of it, right now,” Ben said doggedly. “And Scholar Central doesn’t pay me enough.” He waved away Sam’s protests. “I know it will in the future, but we can’t wait that long.”

  “Why not?”

  Ben looked at the ground.

  “Well?” Sam pressed.

  “There is a reason,” Ben admitted. “We weren’t going to tell anyone yet.”

  Sam swallowed, suddenly cold, knowing already what Ben would say next but not believing it. Could this day get any worse?

  “Looks like I’m going to be a dad sooner than I expected,” Ben said quietly.

  Sam shook his head. “No way.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

  “Chloe doesn’t want kids,” Sam said flatly, his mind whirling at the possibility he was wrong. That’s what she’d told him every time he’d mentioned his interest in having a family. She hadn’t wanted to put them off or even think about it. She hadn’t wanted kids at all.

  Or did she simply not want to have kids with him?

  “Sure she does, but it’s early days,” Ben said. “She’ll be really pissed if she finds out I told you.”

  Because she wasn’t pregnant. Sam would stake his life on it. After all, it was common enough for a woman to lose a baby early on. As soon as Chloe had Scholar Central’s shares in her hands, she’d fake a miscarriage and keep right on going. The alternative was impossible to think about—that she’d played him right from the start. That she’d never meant to marry him at all—but she did love Ben enough to make a real future with him.

  “Let’s go talk to her,” Sam said. He didn’t care about Chloe, he told himself. He cared about Ben. A little voice in his mind told him that wasn’t exactly true, though. He might not love Chloe, but he needed to think she’d cared for him, at least a little, while they were together. Because if Chloe hadn’t, and Ava was able to walk away from him—

  Maybe he wasn’t half the man he thought he was.

  Ben reared back in alarm. “I just said—”

  “I won’t breathe a word about her pregnancy.” Her fake pregnancy. Luckily Chloe wasn’t the only one with a devious mind. He was grateful now for the arguments about education he’d had with Ava during his visit. They’d just given him an idea. “I need to run a new possibility by both of you.” He strode toward the hotel, forcing Ben to hurry to keep up with him. Maybe he was crazy to push things this far, but he had to know the truth.

  “What new possibility?” Ben followed him, frowning.

  “Something I want to add to Scholar Central.”

  “It’s probably too late for that, but you can always create a new company. You’ll have a lot of cash if we sell.” Ben kept shooting glances his way. Sam could tell he didn’t know whether to be pleased at this progress or afraid this was some kind of trick.

  It was definitely a trick. Chloe had held the reins for too long. It was time for him to step in.

  “You know damn well whatever company wants to buy us is going to shackle us to Scholar Central for five years at least,” Sam said, “and we won’t have creative control anymore. We’ll be working stiffs like everyone else, with a middle-management boss to answer to. When our five years are up, we’ll have non-compete clauses in our contracts that guarantee we’ll never work in the educational software industry again.” He was overstating it, but those were all the kinds of things Ben hated.

  “What’s your idea?” Ben asked, his frown deeper. Chloe’s sugar-plum fantasy about being pregnant, starting a family and moving to the suburbs must be irresistible to him. His childhood had been a nightmare, and Sam couldn’t blame him for wanting something that sounded so sweet, but he had to expose the lies behind Chloe’s promises.

  “I don’t want to explain it twice.” He didn’t want to show his hand yet. His plan might not work, but it was the only way Sam could think of to demonstrate to his friend what the future would really look like if he let Chloe take control.

  He remained silent until they reached the hotel. Ben led the way to the room he was sharing with Chloe, who was sitting on the tiny balcony, fingers racing over her laptop. She shut it quickly when they came near.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, standing up and coming into the room. She folded her arms over her chest and looked from one to the other of them.

  “I had an idea,” Sam said. “I want to add a whole new suite of options to our program.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. We’re not starting anything new. We’re about to sell Scholar Central to a company that can take the product all the way to the end zone. They’re not asking us for complexity,” she added. “If anything, right now we need to tie up all the loose ends.”

  “We’ve left out a whole branch of opportunities,” Sam went on, ignoring her. When they started out, he and Ben spent weeks of sleepless nights banging out a list of features and possibilities for their service. He knew Ben wouldn’t be able to help himself once he heard the idea. “Place-based tailored curriculum,” he said, gesturing with his hands as if to encompass the enormity of the concept. “We give kids the information they need to be better citizens of the towns or cities where they live. We combine history, reading, art, natural sciences. Everything they need to know to truly understand their homes.”

  Ben’s eyes lit up. “You could tie that into every subject in the curriculum,” he said. “Civics, ecology, environmentalism, scientific research.”

  “It’s the kind of spin that would make our product stand out head and shoulders above everywhere else,” Sam said.

  “We could get so many people involved,” Ben said. “Local naturalists and scientists. Historians.”

  “It’s a story that writes itself. Think of the publicity. Think about local papers and news channels. Think about the articles they’ll write and the stories they’ll run about a curriculum that ties into everything that makes their area special.”

  “There’s so much you could do with the idea.” Ben had that look—the one that said he was ready to brainstorm. In the old days, this would be the signal for them to order a couple of pizzas, commandeer a whiteboard or two and spend the rest of the night batting around ideas.

  Right on cue, Chloe let out an exasperated noise. “I can’t believe the two of you. Look at you getting so excited about such a lousy plan!”

  Ben blinked. He didn’t do well with being interrupted at times like these. “What?”

  “It’s a terrible idea,” she repeated. “It would add way too much complexity. How would we come up with the curriculum for thousands of different towns and cities? How would we grade the assignments? We can’t automate that.”

  Ben shook his head. Once he got started thinking about possibilities, he didn’t want to stop. His brain worked quickly, ticking over all the permutations until he understood them inside and out. Sam had learned to leave him alone for a while in situations like this. Sooner or later those ideas started spilling out.

  “Maybe some things shouldn’t be automated,” Sam told her. Ava would be proud of him, unless she guessed he was mostly trying to rile up Chloe.

  It was working.

  “You want to screw up our payday? Is that it? For god’s sake, Sam, even you have to see this isn’t the time to add anything new!”

  “Even if it makes the product better?” Sam goaded her. “After all, our aim is to reach students—to improve the quality of education they’re getting access to, right?”

  “The idea is to make money.” Chloe’s voice rose. “You’re talking about doubling or tripling the need for staff. Bloating a company that right now looks like a cash cow. No one is going to want to buy Scholar Central if you do that.”

  “Money isn’t our primary object.” He nearly laughed at her reaction to that, but he kept a straight face as he turned to Ben. “We can’t back away from an idea as explosive as this one is. I think we should put it on the agenda for our next full-company meeting. We need focus groups. See what they think. It might push back our launch date for a year or two, but…”

  “No one is pushing back the launch date.” Chloe was beside herself. “My buyers want Scholar Central because it’s so close to being profitable.”

  Sam could tell Ben was still thinking over the initial proposal. Rubbing his chin with his hand, rocking back and forth slightly, he was deep in thought, but his gaze was focused on his future wife.

  “We need to shoot this idea in the head right now,” Chloe said. “It’s ridiculous. Ben, tell him the answer is no.”

  Ben didn’t say anything. Sam could tell he was agitated. Chloe’s repeated interruptions were interfering with his analysis, and from experience Sam knew he couldn’t handle an emotional situation when he was in full-on analytical mode.

  “I say the answer is yes.” Sam kept going. He had to push Chloe to the breaking point if he wanted this gambit to succeed. He thought he knew how. He faced Chloe and looked her dead in the eyes. “You know, when you think about it, you really have no say in this, Chloe.”

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. “Of course I have a say. I have the final say!” she exploded. “Ben is going to be my husband, which means Ben’s opinion is the same as mine. That’s our deal, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You lost, Sam. Face it. You should have given me the shares when I asked you for them in the first place. Then you and I would still be engaged.”

  Ben stopped rocking.

  Almost there, Sam thought. “Would you really ask us to stop development before Scholar Central was the best it could be?” he asked Chloe.