“Sam.” His name came from her lips without her even being aware she’d spoken out loud.

  He tossed a look over his shoulder and froze when his eyes met hers.

  “Hello,” she said in an effort to avoid calling attention to herself. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” he answered stiffly. “And you?”

  “Okay…Wonderful, actually.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  A tense silence followed while she struggled for something more to say. Her gaze fell to the service desk. “Is something wrong with the car?”

  He shook his head. “It’s time for an oil change.”

  The tense quiet returned.

  “…babies?”

  “…work?”

  They spoke simultaneously.

  Sam gestured with his hand. “You first.”

  “I got a promotion.” She didn’t mention that her Sundays would be free from now on; she couldn’t see the point.

  “Congratulations.”

  She attempted a smile. “Thank you.” In the ensuing silence, she nodded at him, indicating it was his turn. “You look like you’ve been busy.”

  He nodded. “I delivered another set of twins last week.”

  “Girls?”

  “No, both boys. Identical.”

  “Oh.” For the life of her, Marjorie couldn’t think of another thing to say. Small talk had always been her forte, and there were a thousand things she wanted to tell him but couldn’t.

  Seeing him like this made her feel so unsure, so uncertain. Her mind stumbled over her thoughts. Kitten wasn’t such a terrible name, she realized. So she’d reminded him of a pathetic cat; no doubt that was the way she’d looked when she visited his office that first time. She loved the way his pet name for her sounded on his lips, almost as though the word were a gentle caress. So she needed him. That wasn’t such a terrible thing. It was time—more than time—that she faced the fact that needing someone was normal and right. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him so when Bud strolled past.

  “There’s a customer here to see you.”

  Feeling guilty, although she didn’t know why, she nodded and glanced over her shoulder. “I guess I’d better get back to work,” she said to Sam.

  He didn’t respond. “I suppose you should.”

  “Good-bye, Sam.”

  “Good-bye, Kitten.” The instant the word slipped out of his mouth, he wanted to take it back. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not such a bad name.”

  “Only it’s not right for you,” he said, his gaze unwavering.

  Marjorie wasn’t in any position to argue with him; holding back tears required all the energy she could muster. “Right,” she answered weakly, giving up the fight.

  Without looking behind her, she headed outside, where the insurance salesperson she’d talked to earlier in the week was waiting for her. As she walked out the door, she heard Sam ask what time he could expect his car to be finished. By the time she returned, he was gone.

  Lydia seemed to be waiting for her when she returned inside, though. Her friend came over to meet her. “Well, what did he have to say?”

  “The insurance salesperson?” Marjorie asked, playing stupid.

  “Of course not. Sam!”

  “Nothing.”

  “But he must have said something! You two talked for three minutes. I timed you. You must have gotten something settled in that amount of time.”

  “Unfortunately, we didn’t.”

  “Marjorie, this craziness has got to stop. I talked to Mary, Dr. Sam’s receptionist, and she told me he hasn’t been the same from the moment you two split up. He’s melancholy and moody, and everyone knows that’s not the least bit like him.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Marjorie said flippantly.

  “Maybe,” Lydia returned, with barely controlled skepticism. “But will you?”

  Her friend’s words echoed in her mind for the remainder of the afternoon. Lydia was right. Her world was crumbling at her feet, and she was too proud, too stubborn, to do anything about it. Just seeing Sam again had proven that. She was ruining her life over something incredibly silly. She’d overreacted and behaved stupidly, and the time had come to own up to that.

  Filled with determination, she marched over to the service department.

  “What time did you tell Dr. Bretton his car would be ready?”

  Pete, the head mechanic, who had been with Dixon Motors for ten years, flipped the pages of the service book. “After three. As I recall, he told me he wouldn’t be in to pick it up until six.”

  Marjorie nodded, pleased. “Have you finished with it?”

  “Yeah. It seemed pointless to change the oil on a vehicle that doesn’t even have a thousand miles on it. But we did it—couldn’t see the point in arguing with him.”

  That small bit of information sent Marjorie’s spirits soaring. Sam must have used the Mercedes as an excuse to see her. Her relief felt like a thirst-quenching rain after a long August drought. “Could I have his keys, please?”

  The mechanic gave her an odd look. “You want Dr. Bretton’s car keys?”

  “Right. When he comes in, send him to my office.”

  The barrel-chested mechanic scratched the side of his head. “If that’s the way you want it, Ms. Majors.”

  “I do. Thanks, Pete.”

  The remainder of the afternoon crept by. At precisely six, Marjorie was waiting in her office. Sam didn’t keep her in suspense long.

  He knocked once and stepped inside. “What’s this about you having my car keys?” he demanded, his temper showing. He’d been a fool to think that coming to the car dealership would solve anything between them. She wanted blood, and he wasn’t about to give it to her. The more he reviewed their earlier conversation, the angrier he became. That wounded, hurt look in her eyes had accused him of greatly wronging her. All he’d ever wanted was to marry her and make her happy, and she’d reacted as though he’d insulted her.

  Marjorie blinked. “Yes, I have your keys.”

  He held out his open palm. “I’d like them back.”

  “Of course.” She remained outwardly calm, but adrenaline was racing through her system as though she were running the Boston Marathon. “I have a couple questions first, if you don’t mind answering them.”

  He made a show of glancing at his watch. “Make it quick—I have an appointment.”

  “Oh Sam, you always were such a poor liar.”

  He snapped his jaw closed and pulled out a chair. “As it happens, I do have to be someplace in less than an hour. But obviously my word isn’t to be trusted.”

  “This will only take a minute.”

  He crossed his legs, hoping to give the impression of indifference. Nothing could be further from the truth, but anger was his only defense against Marjorie. It was either yell at her or yank her into his arms and kiss some sense into her.

  Her fingers closed around the cold metal keys. “It’s about that ring you offered me.”

  Sam shot to his feet. “Listen, Marjorie, we’re talking about our lives here, not a car deal. There are no counteroffers.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “The offer stands as it was.”

  “All right,” she said, her voice strong and sure.

  “All right what?”

  “I’ll marry you.”

  If Sam had been flustered before, it was nothing compared to the confusion he felt now. “You will?”

  “That is…if you still want me for your wife.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “What happened? Did you check around and discover that you couldn’t make a better deal than me?”

  “No…That’s not it at all.” This was going so much worse than she’d hoped it would.

  He eyed her speculatively. “I’ll call you Kitten any time I please!”

  She nodded, because speaking would have been impossible.

  “We won’t have a long engagement, either. I want us married before the end of the summer.”

  She met his fiery gaze with feigned calm, then answered him with a quick nod.

  He mellowed somewhat and lowered his voice. “Do you have to check this out with your manager?”

  “No.”

  His gaze moved to the shimmering moistness of her lips. He was dying to hold her, starved for a taste of her, and just looking at her disturbed his concentration. His control was slipping fast. Walking around to her side of the desk, he reached for her. Hungrily, his mouth devoured hers as he pulled her hard against the solid length of his body so she would know how desperate he’d been without her. His hand roamed possessively over her, molding her to him, uncaring that anyone outside the office might be watching.

  Only partially satisfied, Sam dragged his mouth from her, his hunger sated for the moment.

  The iron band of his arms held her a willing prisoner. “Sam, I love you…I’m sorry to be so insecure. I don’t know what made me say those things. It’s just that I’ve been on my own so long that it hurt my pride to think you pitied me, and I…”

  “It doesn’t matter, Kitten,” he said, his voice husky and thick against her hair.

  Overcome by a searing happiness, she laughed breathlessly. The sound was short and sweet. “I can’t imagine why I objected so strongly when I love the name Kitten.”

  “Good, because I meant what I said about calling you that.”

  Her arms circled his waist, and her heart swelled. She was home, truly home, for the first time since she’d lost her parents.

  “We’re getting married as soon as I can arrange it.”

  She grinned, more than agreeable to any terms he wanted. “Any Sunday.”

  He paused and looked deep into her misty, diamond-bright eyes, letting her words sink in. “Because of your promotion?”

  She nodded and started to say more when Lydia burst into her office.

  Her friend’s mouth dropped open as she stopped abruptly. “Oh…hi.”

  “Hi,” Marjorie answered for them.

  “Have you two patched things up?” Lydia asked casually.

  “It’s either that or we have a peculiar way of arguing,” Sam answered, and chuckled softly.

  “So are you two getting married or what?”

  “We’re getting married,” Marjorie said, beaming.

  It looked for a moment as though Lydia doubted them. “When?” she asked speculatively.

  Sam and Marjorie shared a lingering look. “Any Sunday,” they answered in unison.

  In memory of Darlene Layman

  My treasured friend through the years.

  About the Author

  Debbie Macomber, the author of A Walk Along the Beach, Window on the Bay, Cottage by the Sea, Any Dream Will Do, If Not for You, and the Rose Harbor Inn series, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Thirteen of her novels have reached #1 on the New York Times bestseller lists, and five of her beloved Christmas novels have been hit movies on the Hallmark Channel, including Mrs. Miracle and Mr. Miracle. Hallmark Channel also produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove, based on Macomber’s Cedar Cove books. She is also the author of the cookbook Debbie Macomber’s Table. There are more than 200 million copies of her books in print worldwide.

  debbiemacomber.com

  Facebook.com/​debbiemacomberworld

  Twitter: @debbiemacomber

  Instagram: @debbiemacomber

  Pinterest.com/​macomberbooks

  After divorce shatters her family, one woman’s struggle to pick up the pieces finally leads to a new beginning—but is the past truly behind her? #1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber explores the powerful intersections of love and family in this poignant novel.

  It’s Better This Way

  Continue reading for a special sneak peek.

  Available soon from Ballantine Books

  Prologue

  Julia Jones sat at her desk, the divorce papers in front of her, shouting at her to pick up the pen, sign her name, and put an end to this insanity once and for all. Her heart ached, and she held her breath to the point that her lungs felt as if they would explode. Reaching for the pen, her hand trembled with the weight of what she was about to do. Closing her eyes, she set the pen back on the desktop.

  She’d fought so hard to save her marriage. She loved Eddie. There’d never been anyone but her husband. When he tearfully admitted he’d fallen out of love with her, she intuitively knew he’d become involved with someone else, although he adamantly denied it. She could understand if another woman had fallen in love with her husband; Julia loved him, too. Even at fifty-three, Eddie was handsome, athletic, and charismatic.

  Unwilling to give up on her thirty-one-year marriage, she pleaded with him to try counseling. To his credit, Eddie agreed, although reluctantly. However, after only five sessions, he said it would do no good. He admitted to the affair with a woman named Laura, someone he’d met on the golf course. He no longer wanted to make his marriage work. He wanted out to start a new life with this other woman.

  Still, Julia was unwilling to give up. She was determined. Dedicated to her husband and her marriage. Even after Eddie quit counseling, she continued, seeking ways to build a bridge that would bring her husband back.

  Back to their family.

  Back to the good life they had created together.

  Back to her.

  They were a team. Or had been. Julia had shared nearly every important life experience with Eddie. Marriage. Children. The death of her father. Triumphs. Discouragements. He’d been her soulmate.

  Julia met Eddie in college. They were young and in love, full of ambition, all set to make their mark in the world. They married, encouraged, and supported each other as they pursued their individual careers. Eddie became a professional golfer, and when his career faded, he became a country club pro and later opened his own shop.

  Julia had graduated with a degree in interior design. Her own business had become a success, and she was a sought-after designer, working with contractors from across the state. After marrying and investing their talent and time in building their careers, they’d waited ten years to start their family. Julia was thirty-two before she had Hillary and Marie a year later. Eddie loved his daughters. They were the pride of his life.

  Even now, Julia didn’t know how this affair had happened. She’d been completely blindsided. She’d assumed they were happy. They’d been together all these years and were at the point when they were about to enjoy the fruits of their labors. Their nest was empty. Both girls were in college, Hillary was about to graduate, and Marie was a year behind her. The two shared an apartment near the University of Washington, where they attended classes. Hillary was studying to be a physical therapist and played tennis for the college team, just as Julia had while in school. Marie planned to be a respiratory therapist.

  Even knowing her husband was involved in an affair, Julia had stubbornly held on to her marriage. Eddie was her best friend. He’d wept with her when her father passed, had been a good father and partner, cheering her successes and comforting her when she faced disappointments. They had been a team, each celebrating the other. They had a good life together, and she wasn’t willing to flush it all away.

  Julia missed her father terribly. Dad would have been stunned and disappointed in Eddie. Countless times over the years, when life had thrown her an unexpected curve, he’d tell her: It’s better this way. He’d said it so often that before he died, his mother threatened to have it printed on his tombstone.

  She’d been six when she first remembered him saying it. She’d been invited to her best friend’s birthday party, but had gotten the flu the night before, and couldn’t go. Disappointed, she’d wept in her daddy’s arms, and he’d comforted her by telling her it was better this way. She hadn’t believed him until the following Sunday, when she was feeling better and Heather brought her a piece of her special birthday cake. Later, her dad drove her and Heather to the circus, and they’d had a wonderful time. It had been better than sharing her best friend with everyone in her first-grade class.

  Again and again over the years, when Julia had suffered disappointments—a prom date who disappeared in the middle of the dance, a missed business flight to New York—she would be naturally frustrated and upset, until she remembered her father’s words of wisdom.

  Right then, with her marriage at stake, it didn’t feel like anything would ever be better again.

  Hoping Eddie would come to his senses, Julia begged him to wait six months, praying with all her might that he would change his mind about this divorce. They would find their way through this. Start again. Forgive each other.

  All she wanted was those six months, convinced he would come to his senses.

  Eddie hesitantly agreed, although he made sure she was fully aware that this was his time limit. After six months, she would willingly sign the divorce papers. With a wounded heart, she promised to abide by his stipulation.

  At Eddie’s insistence, they spoke with an attorney. Everything would be ready for when the time came. The settlement agreement had been amicably set in place. He kept his business and she kept hers. She promised, at the end of those six months, that they would put the house on the market. Julia would sell her dream home, the very one she had lovingly decorated. They would evenly split the profits. Of the furnishings, there were only a few pieces Eddie wanted.

  Four months into the six-month waiting period, things had gotten ugly. It seemed Eddie’s lover had grown impatient and wanted matters resolved so they could move on together. She was eager for them to put down roots.

  When Julia held firm to their six-month agreement, Laura got involved, forwarding Julia photo upon photo of her and Eddie together, dining out. Selfies on the golf course. Even one of them in bed together. As best she could, Julia ignored the pictures, refusing to take the bait.