Christmas Ever After (Puffin Island 3)

“So what happened after she left?”

Alec breathed. “I found all her paintings in my garden room. She left them there. Every one.” Including one of him, naked, that she must have painted at his parents’ house.

He’d spent an hour looking at it, wondering what she had been thinking when she’d painted it.

Emily pressed her hand to her chest. “There is no way she would have left without those. Unless— Did she say she’d be coming back?”

“No. She told me to have a good time in Antarctica.” And that, he thought, had been the worst part. Her words had left him feeling hollowed out, as if someone had removed all the important parts of him, leaving only the outside.

Brittany cursed under her breath, dragged her phone out of her pocket and dialed Sky’s phone again. “I’ve been calling and calling and it just goes to voice mail. Why isn’t she picking up? Even if she was upset with you she should be calling us.” Misery rippled through the anger and frustration. “Alec, please. You have to tell us. Did you fight? Tell me exactly what happened the last time you were together.”

Alec held her gaze. “We had sex four times in the living room and twice more in the bedroom. Is that enough detail or do you want more?”

Emily turned scarlet and Ryan gave a choked laugh and headed for the kitchen. “Time for a beer or ten.”

“You can’t drink ten by yourself.” Zach virtually sprinted after him.

Brittany didn’t move, but all the anger in her eyes had faded and now she just looked deeply unhappy. “I’m sorry.” She murmured the words and then slid her arms round Alec and hugged him. “I’m sorry to be such a witch, it’s just that I’m worried about her and I don’t know why she didn’t call us. We talk all the time, about everything.”

“Do you?” He hadn’t meant to say it but he was feeling as raw as she was.

Brittany stepped back and gave him a questioning look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Regretting his words, realizing that there was nothing to be gained by taking his frustration out on them, Alec went to follow Ryan and Zach to the kitchen, but Brittany blocked his path.

“Hold it right there, Shipwreck Hunter. What do you mean?”

Alec sighed. “I don’t mean anything. But if you talk all the time then you should have more of an idea of why she left than I do.”

“We do talk all the time, although obviously not so much lately—” Brittany stared at him and her color rose. She bit her lip and glanced at Emily. “When did you last talk to Sky? Properly, I mean?”

“I talk to her all the time. Lizzy is often with us of course, but—” Emily broke off. “And now that you mention it she said she had something to tell me when she came over here the other day. But then she found out I was pregnant and somehow the conversation never happened.”

That was the day she’d arrived home and locked herself away, Alec thought. “She didn’t give you any clues?”

“No.”

Brit was still staring at Emily. “You never told me that.”

“It slipped my mind. I guess I didn’t realize it was significant. She didn’t seem unhappy. And how about you? You gave her a ride home. Did she say anything then?”

“No. We talked about things—” Brittany frowned. “She seemed fine. Maybe a little distracted. She asked me in for a coffee but I had to meet Zach.”

“She asked me if we could have dinner, the three of us.” Emily looked troubled. “I assumed she was being sociable.”

“Shit.” Brittany stared at her, anguish in her eyes. Then she pulled her phone out again. “All we can do is keep calling. We’ve left a hundred messages. That’s the best we can do. Let’s eat dinner and hope she calls later.”

“You should stay tonight, Alec.”

“It’s only lunchtime.”

“I know, but if she calls you I want to be here to listen. We’re going to curl up and watch Christmas movies.”

Ryan stuck his head round the door. “Zach and I are planning on finding alternative entertainment. Join us.”

It was either that or go back and spend a night on his own in Fisherman’s Cottage, surrounded by memories of Sky. The decorations she’d made filled his house. Her scent still clung to his pillow and he’d found two blond hairs clinging to the sweater he’d pulled on that morning.

“I’ll stay.”