Page 8 of Last Wish Wedding

The sailing yacht docked at the neighboring property had captured Noah’s attention.

“Mom, it’s huge! Like a floating house!” his face had been excited as he marveled at the boat.

The sleek vessel, easily worth millions, had seemed to mock her current situation. The crumpled insurance paperwork still sat in her bag, along with the useless note where she’d written “Mac” and the trucking company’s phone number that now led nowhere.

A car payment. She turned the words over in her mind, adding figures she already knew wouldn’t balance. The clinic paid well for the island, but between Noah’s school activities, the rent on the cottage, and now Jason’s custody threats... She pressed her face into the pillow, feeling the dampness spread.

“Preston MacCormack,” she whispered into the darkness, the fake name bitter on her tongue. How could she have been so naïve? She should have taken more pictures, gotten his license plate, something. Instead, she’d let his kind eyes and borrowed sweatshirt lull her into thinking someone was actually going to help.

From her window, she could see the yacht’s running lights reflecting off the quiet water of the cove. Someone’s weekend toy probably cost more than she’d make in ten years. And here she was, with seven years of education all done on her own, working full time, raising her son, and she couldn’t even figure out how to replace her car.

The tears came faster now, hot and angry. She could hear Noah’s steady breathing from his room across the hall, reminding her why she’d chosen this life, this island, this escape from the Prescotts’ suffocating world. But tonight, she staggered under the weight of every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of pretending to Noah that everything was fine.

He deserved so much more; more time, more patience, more than a mother who was always tired and always worrying about the next bill or the next shift. She was doing her best, but sometimes she wondered if her best was enough.

Would Noah resent her later on for not allowing him all the opportunities that his father’s family offered, even though David had rejected them himself?

The foghorn sounded in the distance, low and mournful. Kelsey pulled her old quilt tighter around her shoulders, allowing herself this one night of self-pity before tomorrow’s realities settled in.

“Mom, can I have more syrup?” Noah asked, his fork poised over the last bite of waffle.

“What you have is plenty.” Kelsey sipped her coffee, scanning her phone for any messages from the insurance company. The morning sun streamed through their small kitchen window, catching the dust motes dancing above the worn table.

A sharp knock at the front door made them both jump. Noah’s fork clattered against his plate.

“Are we expecting someone?” he asked, already sliding off his chair to investigate.

“Finish your breakfast,” Kelsey said, tightening the belt of her robe. Through the door’s warped glass panel, she could make out the silhouette of a man in what appeared to be a suit.

She opened the door cautiously, immediately noticing the crisp leather portfolio tucked under his arm. Great. Another lawyer.

“Ms. York? Kelsey York?” The man consulted a tablet.

“Yes?”

“I need your signature here.” He extended a clipboard. “And here. Initial here.”

“I’m sorry, what is this for?” Kelsey didn’t take the pen he offered.

“Vehicle delivery, ma’am.”

“There must be some mistake. I haven’t—”

“Mom!” Noah’s voice carried from the kitchen window. “There’s a new car in our driveway!”

The man merely extended the clipboard again. “If you could sign, please. I have to make the ferry.”

Kelsey’s hand trembled as she took the pen and scanned the delivery receipt. Her name was there, along with the car details. A 2024 Subaru Forrester.

The man produced a set of keys and a sealed envelope from his portfolio. “Registration and insurance cards are in the glove box. Have a nice day.”

“Wait!” Kelsey clutched the keys, hurrying after him as he turned toward a waiting taxi. “I didn’t order a car. There has to be some mistake.”

He paused and adjusted his tie. “No mistake, ma’am. Vehicle’s paid in full and registered in your name. All legal and proper.” He gestured to the envelope in her hand. “Think that explains everything.”

Noah burst out the front door, still in his pajamas. “Mom! Mom! It’s a Subaru like Aunt Amy’s but better! Can we look inside? Please?”

The delivery man smiled slightly, climbing into the taxi. “Enjoy your new vehicle, Ms. York.”