Solace Island (Solace Island Series, Band 1) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Meg Tilly may be best known for her acclaimed Golden Globe-winning performance in the movie Agnes of God. After publishing six standout young adult and literary women's fiction novels, the award-winning author/actress decided to write the kind of books she loves to read: romance novels. She is the author of Solace Island, Cliff's Edge, and Hidden Cove. Tilly has three grown children and resides with her husband in the Pacific Northwest.

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***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***

Copyright © 2018 Meg Tilly

One

Maggie Harris had her cell phone jammed against her right ear, a finger stuffed in her left, but still, Brett’s voice was an indistinct murmur. “Sorry, honey. Could you please speak a little louder? It’s kind of noisy in here.”

That was an understatement. The club was packed with writhing, sweaty bodies undulating to the pounding pulse of the music, not to mention the shrieking laughter of her eight bridesmaids and assorted female family members and friends.

Maggie felt a tug on her arm. It was Carol Endercott from the office, who had been knocking back shooters since they had arrived an hour ago. Maggie didn’t know her well, but the woman’s husband had walked out on her and their kid after ten years of wedded bliss. Probably not the best person to invite to one’s bachelorette party; however, Carol had overheard Maggie and Sarah making plans and Maggie hadn’t had the heart not to include her.

“Magsters,” Carol slurred, leaning close, stumbling slightly. “Come on, girl, off za phone. It’s pardy time!” She wore a big, sloppy smile, her mascara was smeared, and wisps of frizzy blond hair clung to her perspiring face. “Let’s have fuuun!” she bellowed like an elephant in heat.

Maggie held up a finger. One moment, Carol, she mouthed. It’s Brett.

“Ooooh,” Carol said, throwing up her hands and tiptoeing backward, eyes wide, like a cartoon character removing herself from a bomb site. “The luuuvebirds. I bettah give you some privacy, seeing as how yer talkin’ to za fabulous Mr. Nolan!”

“Yes, well . . .” Maggie smiled at Carol. “Thanks. I think I’ll just . . .”  She tipped her head toward the bathrooms and started moving past Carol.

“Good idea!” Carol said, giving Maggie a crazy-hard nudge in the ribs and an attempt at a wink. “I’ll tell the gang you’re in za potski having phone sex, so they won’t barge in at an inopportune moment,” she bleated, and lurched off.

“Jeez,” Maggie said, watching her leave. “I am very grateful not to have a drinking problem.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Brett. Hang on a second,” Maggie said. She started weaving her way through the crowd.

Once she was in the restroom, she heaved a sigh of relief. It was cooler in there, almost peaceful. She could still hear the thump and roar of the music, but it was muffled. “Thank goodness,” she said. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Brett said, his voice mostly clear, just a little static.

“What time is it?”

“Uh . . . ten fifteen. Look, babe, I wanted to—”

“Ten fifteen! Oh my gosh, we’ve only been here an hour? I’m pooped already. How long do you think I need to stay? Don’t want to be rude or anything. Everyone’s come from so far away. But I gotta say, this going to clubs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, the meat-market behavior typical of these places? It’s not really me.” Maggie laughed. “Well, you know that better than anyone, don’t you? Honey, I am so glad we met.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

“I can hardly wait until this is over. Maybe I can drop by after, if it’s not too late, and snuggle in bed with you. Oh my goodness, my feet are sore,” Maggie said, slipping off her heels, the polished concrete floor cool and soothing under her feet.

“That might be a problem.”

“I know, right? I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow! I don’t know why I let my sister talk me into those strappy, sparkly heels to finish off my wedding ensemble. I should have stuck with my original idea and bought those glittery Doc Martens. Nobody cares what you’re wearing underneath, and then I’d be comfort—”

“Margaret,” Brett cut in. “I need you to stop talking for a minute. Can you do that?”

“What?” Maggie’s breath caught in her chest. He’d used her formal name, and his voice sounded strange. “Are you all right? Is everything okay? You didn’t get in an accident, did you?”

“No, I’m fine. I just want to—”

“Oh, thank goodness!” A wave of relief rushed through her. “How horrible would that be—you having to hobble up the aisle in your handsome tux on a pair of crutches.”

“Can you shut up for a second? I’ve been trying to tell you something for the last five minutes, but you just keep jabbering on and on.”

Wait. Did Brett just tell me to shut up?

“I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching the last couple months,” Brett said. “And I just . . . I can’t do it.”

Maggie’s stomach lurched as her world, her happy-ever-after future, suddenly swerved off course. She felt both removed from her body and hyperaware of her surroundings, like she was an alien observing the events of her own life. The water dripping from the faucet, the beating of her heart, it all sounded loud, loud, loud. Her mouth tasted like chalk, throat constricted.

“Can’t . . . You can’t do what?” she asked, but she already knew the answer.

Two

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Rosemund Harris asked. There were violet shadows under Maggie’s mother’s eyes, as if she, too, hadn’t been able to sleep for the last three nights.

“I’m totally fine, Mom.” Maggie managed a smile. She glanced at the departure display board. Good. Their flight to Tampa was on time. Another couple minutes and her parents would have no choice but to go through security.

Her sister, Eve, had taken the red-eye back to New York last night, and the plane’s departure had been delayed twice. While they’d waited, Eve had managed to extract a promise that Maggie would go on vacation with her. Who knew what kind of concessions her parents would’ve wiggled out of her had their flight been delayed.

By some miracle Maggie had been able to maintain her composure through contacting the wedding guests, canceling what services she could and donating the rest. She still had to contact the store where she’d registered and arrange to return the enormous pile of gifts so credit cards could be refunded. However, first she needed to sort through the presents so she could personalize the thank-you notes that had to be written. There was too much to do. No way in hell was she going to allow herself to fall apart now and start bawling in the middle of the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport.

“I want to kill that son of a bitch,” her dad said. Her dad had always been even-tempered and slow to anger, but he was angry now. She could tell by his voice.

Maggie dragged her gaze from the departure board to where her dad stood beside her mom. Bill Harris’s large hands, hardened by years of construction work, were clenched, and worry had etched deeper grooves in the lines on his face.

“Dad,” Maggie said, reaching out and patting his arm, “really, it’s all right.” Her parents looked at least five years older than they had a week ago, and for that alone, she wanted to kill the bastard herself. “I’m just sorry you flew all this way for...