Sweetpea: Have you ever told anyone about our letters?

Harbormaster: Just my sister.

Twenty-eight

Sabrina heard the ding of a message hitting her inbox and realized she’d forgotten to reduce the volume before turning in. She wasn’t sleeping anyway. She crawled out from under the covers and crept into the living room. Arielle, a shadowed lump on the couch, breathed a soft snore.

Sabrina slid into the chair and moved the mouse, awakening the computer. It was Tucker.

Are you awake? he’d written.

Like she could sleep after fretting over Tucker and Arielle all night. Her cousin had returned with a mysterious grin that left Sabrina with an empty ache.

Yes.

Sabrina had wanted to ask Arielle how their date went. But each time the words had caught in her throat. What if she didn’t want to know? A new message arrived with a ding. Sabrina muted the volume, then opened the message.

Wanna chat awhile?

Yes, she typed.

What was Tucker thinking about right now? Was he remembering his night with Arielle? Was he thinking about how beautiful she was in her gauzy white shirt and fitted jeans? Another message arrived.

Are you going to answer all my questions with a yes?

She smiled.

Yes.

It had been a while since they’d chatted on email. She missed it. She missed him. Her thoughts turned to the kiss they’d shared on the boat the night before. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his lips on hers. You have got to stop this! It’s getting you nowhere.

She opened her eyes to a new message.

In that case, I’ll have to come up with something more consequential to ask.

Her stomach fluttered. What would he want if he could ask anything, knowing her answer would be yes?

She placed her hands over the keyboard.

I’ll ask the questions here. If you had one wish, anything you wanted, what would it be? Something for yourself—not world peace.

She sent the message and leaned back, ready for a wait. Instead, an email popped right back.

You first.

She smiled. No fair. She wrote the first thing that came to mind.

To be beautiful.

She sent the message, then wished she could reach into cyberspace and retrieve it. He would say she was beautiful because he thought she was Arielle. And Sabrina didn’t want to hear him rave about Arielle’s beauty.

She opened his reply with trepidation.

You have a lasting beauty, soul-deep. The kind that won’t fade with age. Save your wish for something you need.

Sabrina reread his answer. Not what she’d expected. He hadn’t raved about Arielle’s beautiful smile or her gorgeous hair. His words warmed her.

She poised her fingers over the keys.

Your turn.

She speculated about what he’d say. More time to enjoy life? A family of his own? She realized she didn’t know what Tucker wanted most, and that surprised her after all the hours, all the letters. How had they not discussed this before?

His message arrived, and she opened it eagerly.

I want to know you more.

What could he mean? They did know each other well. And he was now seeing her in person, or so he thought. She wanted to ask, but reconsidered.

Maybe you’d be disappointed.

She sent the message, then feared it had been a mistake. Before the anxiety peaked, she got his reply.

Never.

Sabrina closed her eyes. If only it were true. If only things were different.

This conversation was getting out of hand. It was getting scary. She needed to change the subject.

Tell me something about you that I don’t know.

Maybe he’d tell her how he’d gotten the scar between the knuckles of his right hand. Or maybe he’d tell her about his first dance or his favorite place to think.

The email appeared in her inbox, and she clicked it open.

I love you.

Her lungs constricted, pinching off her air supply, making her next breath impossible. Her lungs were too big for her chest. Her skin too tight for her heart. The words, blurred on the screen.

The cursor’s arrow pointed to the words, emphasizing them. He’d never said it before, when she was just Sweetpea. Why couldn’t he have said it before Arielle had come? She wanted full claim on the words, wanted to snatch them up, draw them close like a favorite blanket.

But the words didn’t belong to her. They were Arielle’s.

Would Tucker have said them if he knew who she was? She didn’t have to answer, didn’t even want to. Had he told Arielle tonight? Is that what caused her mysterious smile?

Then she remembered the question that had preceded his words. She’d asked him to reveal something she didn’t know. He couldn’t have told Arielle. But what if he said it tomorrow night or the next? What if Arielle was falling for him too?

Another message appeared. Her pulse raced like a boat hitting the open sea.

I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know.

The truth was, and she couldn’t deny it any longer, she loved him too. God help her, but she did.

You can’t tell him. Yes, she knew that too. There was nothing she could say. Her breath came in quick puffs, drying her mouth. She had to put an end to this conversation before she found herself in deeper waters.

She took the mouse, her fingers trembling, and clicked on the X, closing the program before she did something really foolish—like telling Tucker the truth.