Isabel threw the shopping bag in the car. She barely noticed as her new dress spilled across the backseat in folds of blue silk and then finally slipped down onto the floor of the car. She pulled out of the lot and turned east on Montauk Highway, speeding toward Amagansett. The words spoiled brat rang in her head, making her grip the steering wheel. So that was what Rory thought of her. At least it was better than being a coward. Rory and Connor deserved each other.
She drove through Amagansett without stopping. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, except that to go in the other direction, toward home, would feel like defeat. Eventually the shops and the homes fell away, and the road became pure highway, just blue sky and green trees on either side of her, a straight shot toward Montauk and the farthest end of Long Island. Ditch Plains would make her feel better. She was pretty sure that she had a suit in the trunk. The pink-painted structure of Buford’s Lobster Shack appeared on her right and then vanished behind her. Another reason to think of Mike. All of this was his fault. If he’d only been a decent guy to her last summer, then maybe she wouldn’t have taken the news about Mr. Knox so hard. She had Evan, she remembered, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted him anymore.
She reached Montauk and drove through town, toward the nondescript street that led to the permitless parking lot for Ditch Plains. She changed into her suit lying down on the backseat, grabbed a towel from the trunk, and got out. The ocean breeze was cool in the midday sun, and as she headed toward the sound of pounding surf, she felt her breath start to come more easily. Ditch Plains looked exactly the same. The pebbled beach looked inviting, filled with young children and couples and dogs. A flock of surfers floated on top of their boards in the lineup, waiting their turn.
She wished now that she had a board and her wet suit. Today would be perfect for surfing. And then she remembered—Mike worked in the surfboard store in town. He would rent her a board, maybe even for free. He certainly owed her that.
She turned on her heels and walked back to her car, ignoring the voice that told her that this was a really, really bad idea. She drove into town and pulled over at the first surfboard store she saw. From her parked car she could see the panoply of wet suits hanging above the open door and the stack of neon-colored shortboards leaning against the store window. This had to be the one. Now if only she knew exactly what to say to him. Or what she wanted him to say to her.
She got out of the car, and realized with a start that she was still wearing only her bikini and flip-flops. Whatever, she thought. That very first day they’d met he’d seen her topless, so what did it matter now? She slammed the door and made her way toward the store. She hoped this place had a bathroom.
The store was narrow and deep and crowded with racks of wet suits, stacks of surfboards, and snowboards hanging on the walls. She pulled off her sunglasses and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Sublime played on the speakers, and the air was thick with the smell of brand-new neoprene and cocoa-butter suntan lotion.
“Can I help you?” Mike stepped out from behind a rack of wet suits and brushed a wavy lock of hair out of his eyes. At the sight of her, he stopped short. “Isabel,” he said. “Hi.”
“I need a surfboard,” she said without preamble. “And a wet suit. To rent, if you have it.”
His eyes traveled the length of her half-naked body. “Where are you surfing?”
“Ditch Plains. I forgot my stuff.”
“Okay. You want a shortboard?”
“Sure,” she said. A blast of air-conditioning hit her from up high, and she put her arms around herself. The last thing she needed was to have crazy headlights in front of Mike right now.
“You cold?” he asked. “You want a rash guard?”
“I’m okay. Just the board and the wet suit. And do you have a bathroom?”
“Yeah, it’s in back,” he said, pointing.
She marched to the back of the store, past another sales clerk who sat behind the counter, engrossed in a game on his iPhone. She guessed that the door in the wall led to the bathroom, and she was right. The walls were covered with stickers advertising boards, wet suits, and surf wax, and the sink and toilet looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in several years. It reminded her of that first time she’d gone to Mike’s house and hid in the bathroom during his surprise party. The mess had been appalling, and also weirdly sexy. If only I’d known, she thought, running some water over her face. Of course his place of work would be just as filthy. Why had she come here? She was so confused. All she wanted to do right now was go home. This had been a mistake.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the other sales clerk was gone, and Mike was waiting for her at the counter with a wet suit and yellow shortboard. “I think this should be it,” he said. “What do you think?”
She avoided his gaze and looked at the merchandise. “Looks good.” She pulled out her credit card and handed it to him. “Here.”
Mike took her card and then looked at her closely, cocking his head. “Isabel, are you all right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You seem like you’re having a pretty bad day, that’s all.”
“Maybe I am.”
“You want to tell me about it?” he asked, swiping her card.
“Not especially.”
He didn’t seem fazed.
“Stuff with my family,” she admitted.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Do you really think that I’m going to confide in you?”
“Well, you’re here, right?” he asked, giving her a knowing smile.
“I needed a board and a wet suit,” she said evenly.
“Right,” Mike said. “Of course. Well, don’t let me keep you, then.” He handed her the credit-card slip to sign.
“So now you want me to be your friend?” she asked. “Now you’re interested in chitchat?”
“Well, you came in, didn’t you?”
“Not because I needed to talk to you,” she said.
“Right. So this was all just an accident.”
“No more of an accident than you coming into my restaurant,” she said. She signed the credit-card slip.
“Actually, that was an accident. My cousin Tony happens to like the food there.” Mike pulled off her copy of the slip. “Here’s your receipt.”
Isabel stared at the receipt. “So I don’t get it,” she said. “You give me this whole speech about how you miss me and how you want another chance. And then I see you at my place of work, and you act like you barely know me.”
“What did you want me to do?” Mike asked. “You told me at the Ripcurl that you have a boyfriend.”
“So?” she snapped.
Mike shook his head. “Maybe you need to get in the water and just take a minute.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, feeling her anger at Connor and Rory escalate into fury. “And why would I want to give you another chance? You didn’t want to meet my parents. You left town as soon as we started sleeping together. Everything I told you about my life, you didn’t seem to care. Oh, and let’s not forget, you were just trying to get info out of me for your family. So, tell me. Why would I want to give Mike Castelloni another chance?”
Mike didn’t say anything.
“Because I’ll tell you something,” she said. “I do not miss you.”
“Yeah, you do,” he said softly.
Rage sizzled through her. She snatched the credit-card slip out of his hand. “Gimme my card back. Now.”
Mike handed it back to her. “Isabel—”
Before he could finish, she headed for the door. She got into her car, slammed the door, and drove out of the parking lot with so much abandon that she didn’t even remember her surfboard until she was halfway home.