It was almost two hours before I got away. Mel hadn’t returned for what seemed like forever, mumbling something about “Spike” wanting to see more of the city by way of excuse—which earned her the silent treatment from me—and it seemed to take inordinately long to clean up. Beck might be worried about making her train, but there was no answer when I tried to call her. Perhaps she’d put her phone on mute and was taking a nap, trusting me to wake her when I came in. But I was determined to drive her home and ran two very pink lights while speeding every chance I got on the way.
I opened the door to a quiet apartment. Beck was usually a light sleeper, but I was sure she was exhausted by the unfamiliar stress of traveling. I walked toward the bedroom, whispering her name as I approached. “Beck? Sweetie, we have to get—” The bed was untouched. My apartment was smaller than the Guest House and made for a quick search. Every time there was no reply when I called her name, my heart cracked a little more. I was about to phone Mel when my eye fell on what looked like toilet paper draped across a rail of the artwork Beck had created. I held it with trembling hands, surprised to see the words written in block printing instead of her schoolbook cursive.
Dear Emily,
Mel told me about the two of you, and it explains a lot, like why she always acted jealous and why you didn’t mind the way she treated you. I never heard of an open relationship before, and I wish you had been the one to tell me, but Mel explained that’s not how you do. So instead you fooled me good, I guess, because I would have acted real different if I’d known. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand how you two see this as a way to live, but all I know is, I couldn’t ever share you like that, even though Mel invited me to be a part of it. I’m sorry, Emily, but getting to be with you sometimes wouldn’t be enough to make me willing to be with Mel or let her watch us.
The next line was struck through, but I made out, “I once believed you were everything I ever wanted and seeing you again was…” Then it continued.
Sorry for that. There’s no point crying over spilt milk, as my mama says. But it feels like it’s gonna take me a long time to clean this spill up. Maybe if one of us was a different kind of person, we could work things out. But we’re not, and I don’t suppose we ever will be. I came here to fight for you, but you know I’m not much of a fighter anyway, plus I sure don’t know how to fight this. Mel explained to me about how she changes her number when she leaves her girl, but how you’re always the first person she calls afterward. Though I don’t exactly see it as I’m the one who’s leaving, I guess I’ll change mine too, cause I don’t think I can talk to you again anytime soon. They announce the PAFA results tomorrow, and if I get any of the money, I’m going to buy a boat and live the life I used to dream about before we met. I guess you and Mel will be doing the same for yourselves.
Good-bye and good luck.
Beck
P.S. Excuse the printing, but I’m writing this in the bathroom cause Mel don’t want you to know she told me. She kept talking about your reputation, but I hope you know you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. The thing is, I have to press harder to make my hand do cursive right, and I didn’t think even this nice 2-ply would stand up to that. Ok, bye.
I was so angry I was shaking. I was going to kill Mel. And then I was going to fire her. I knew she was capable of lying and I knew she’d never approved of Beck, but I hadn’t expected this. Melanie Daniels had played me, and she was going to live to regret it. But before anything else, I was going to North Carolina to find Beck. I packed carefully, fairly sure I wouldn’t be in the city again for some time, if ever. Mel could go to California by herself, or the whole deal could go to hell. I honestly didn’t care. The last thing I put in the trunk of my car was Beck’s artwork. I didn’t want to leave it, though I’d be looking at that view live if everything worked out. But I wanted to show Beck how much it meant to me, just after I showed her how much she meant to me.
It was getting late by the time I got outside of the city, and I began to worry about how dangerously impulsive this trip was. Leaving in the middle of the night to take a very long drive alone was totally unlike me. When the people in my stories did things like this, it never ended well. I could easily write of the horrors faced by a woman with a broken-down car on a lonely road or about the aging, lovestruck driver, seizing a last chance for romance, who dies in a fiery, asleep-at-the wheel crash. I saw the ghost driver following her intended lover out to sea, where a storm takes them both to the bottom, together at last.
I shook my head to clear it. Shit, how sick. What kind of person thought of these things on a trip to make up with her sweetheart? Especially that ending. Oh God, Beck had said she would buy a boat if she could. I’d developed some appreciation for the beauty of the ocean, but the idea of Beck out on a boat, knowing her father had died on one, made me press the accelerator a little harder. I needed to get there before she made that purchase, knowing my nerves would never settle any time she was out on that contraption. And if she wanted me to go, that would lead to a whole new round of difficulties.
I passed the car I’d been following, taking a position closer to the front of the line. As I eased back into the lane, the romantic Emily who had taken over my body kicked in her two cents worth. What about what Beck wants? She said this was her dream. Couldn’t you manage your own baseless anxieties to give her some happiness? I supposed I could, but only if she would always return safely. Always.
In my mind I ensconced Beck’s ship in a Disney-like protective bubble, assuring serene travel through any rough seas or mechanical problems. The twist in my stomach relaxed somewhat. All right. Done.
Glancing in my rearview mirror, I watched the car which had been behind me earlier pull in after me again. The headlights had a distinctive shape and looked increasingly familiar as I studied them. I fumbled for my purse to look for my phone. After unearthing my sunglass case and my hairbrush, I found it…completely dead, of course. I plugged in the charger I’d thrown in, wondering how much power it would take to call 9-1-1. I watched and waited. The car ahead of me took an exit. The one behind me didn’t. I increased my speed, and it did too. I slowed, and it dropped back.
Okay, maybe I was overreacting, but maybe not. I passed a sign giving the mileage to the next service area and decided to stop there. They were brightly lit and popular places for travelers, even at this hour.
I checked the power on my phone and called William. It went to his voice mail, and after the beep I said, “Listen, I’m on the turnpike, and I think someone’s following me. Or maybe I’m freaking out because I’m going to North Carolina, and I don’t know how Beck will react to seeing me now. Oh, I’ll explain that later. Anyway, if you don’t ever hear from me again, tell the police to start their search at the Molly Pitcher Service Area.” I hesitated only a second, not wanting the device to cut me off. “And thanks for everything, Will. You’ve always been a special friend, and I’ll miss you, but maybe you and Walter can come visit.”
When the car followed me off the exit toward the service area, I swallowed hard. After all these years of living with Abby’s terror and writing stories of horrible things happening to other people, was something like that about to happen to me?
In the parking area, I squeezed past someone leaving their space. After an angry honk, they continued pulling out slowly enough that the car following me was delayed. I screeched into the next available slot and ran toward the lights and the people inside. I didn’t look back.
I needed the restroom but didn’t want to go into a confined space until I was certain about what was happening, so I joined the queue at Starbucks where I could watch the door. Four or five other people came in, but I wasn’t sure what I was watching for. None of them looked like killers. Mostly they looked tired.
Sipping my coffee, another thought came to me: my stalker might be out in the parking lot, hiding by my car, waiting for me. I took another lap around the facility as I finished my drink, deciding it was safe to empty my bladder. I began another scan as I exited the bathroom. Someone approached on my left, and when I heard my name, I turned quickly.
Melanie Daniels moved toward me. “I’ve been looking all over this place for you. Goddamn woman, you can drive like a bat out of hell when you want to.”
The rage that flared in me was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Before Beck, the strongest feelings I’d had were about Abby, sadness and regret, along with guilt, of course. But seeing Mel standing there with that smirk on her face made me think of all the hurts she’d inflicted, all the snide remarks and cutting looks. Part of my anger was at myself, and how I’d been too much like her until I met the kindest person I’d ever known. Now, knowing she’d deliberately lied to send Beck away from me, blithely dismissing our feelings for each other, made something in me snap. I slapped her as hard as I could, which was apparently much harder than either of us would have expected. She staggered and nearly fell while I shook out my stinging hand.
“How dare you?” I hissed. “How dare you come up to me like we’re friends after what you did?”
Mel had her hand on her cheek and was working her jaw. “Okay, now that you got that out of your system, can we talk about this calmly?”
“No, we can’t fucking talk calmly. Why are you following me?”
The restrooms were at the rear of a small hallway, but everyone in the vicinity, male or female, could hear us, and more than a few heads turned.
“I’m trying to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life,” Mel said.
I stepped closer, poking my finger in her chest. “You are the biggest mistake of my life.” I felt a strange satisfaction when she flinched. “You’re fired. And I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“Come on, Emily. You don’t mean that. We’ve got way too much history to call it quits.” She lowered her voice. “And I meant what I said about us having an open relationship. If you’ll think about it for a minute, you’ll see it would be perfect. You can have some fun at the beach for a few weeks here and there, and I’ll do the same with whoever. Then come back and we can play house together.” Taking advantage of my open-mouthed shock, she moved a step closer. “You know I’ve always had a thing for you. We could live nicely on my trust and what you make writing. Give me a try and I’ll make you forget all about your beach buddy. You’ll realize you never had it so good.”
She reached for my arm, but I stepped away. Typically, Mel was rejecting anything that didn’t fit with what she wanted. “No, Mel. I meant what I said. I’ll consider whatever termination fee you think you’re due, but we are finished, professionally and personally. And if you follow me again, I’ll call the police.” She started to reply, but I held up a hand. “We’re done here. And I still have several hours of driving to do.”
As I walked away, I heard Mel’s distinctive voice, obviously on the phone. “Lisa? Hey, baby. Change of plans. I’ll be home tonight after all. Why don’t you come by about…”
Her voice faded away as I hit the door.
* * *
The sun was well up by the time I reached the Guest House. I hadn’t given back my key from before and breathed with relief when it still worked. The air had a nip in it that hadn’t been there before, but the scene was as beautiful as I remembered. Home. I felt that certainty in my newly awakened heart. The house was spotless, of course, and Beck’s things were still in the second bedroom. The indication that she wasn’t sleeping in the master bed struck me with an emotion I wasn’t sure how to name.
Sugar appeared at the door as I was unpacking, and we took some time to get reacquainted. I showered off the road grit and familiarized myself with the kitchen again while making some eggs. The results weren’t too bad, though not nearly as tasty as Beck’s. After cleaning up, I wandered into the smaller living area, envisioning it as my writing space. It was as she had said; there was room for a good-sized desk and some bookcases. This could definitely work if only Beck would take me back, and I practiced on making my case for that scenario.
But she didn’t return. Not that night or the next day. By the second evening, I was pacing as I held long conversations with the cat. Had she gotten hurt somehow? I considered moving my car in case she’d seen it and was avoiding me, but I didn’t want our first conversation to begin with deception. After another restless—but thankfully nightmare-free night—I decided to call Beck’s mother.
“Hello, Mrs. Janser, it’s Emily Harris,” I said when she answered on the third ring. “I was just calling to see how Beck was doing.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “That’s very nice of you, I’m sure. I gather you left that cat here, and now I’m stuck with taking care of it for a time.” That haughty, sarcastic tone had returned in spades. I said nothing. “But Beck is doing fine, thank you. Of course, she’s kinda disappointed, but there’s enough, so she’ll be all right, I suppose.”
I took a few seconds to process this odd reply. Then it hit me. The PAFA! In my travel-weary and self-absorbed mind, I’d forgotten all about it. I rushed to end the call, knowing I could look for the results online. “Please tell her I called. Thank you.”
She’d won second place. I sighed. Her piece, called Hit and Run, featuring the likeness of a car body split in half, the fiercely dented, crumpled parts interspersed with multiple copies of our tormented faces in delicate plaster of paris positioned behind cracked or missing windows. It was a stunning, disturbing, brilliant work, which held more meaning for me than the obvious. I studied the photo for a long time before glancing over the other submissions. I knew I was biased, but I genuinely felt hers was superior to the winner’s. Reading between the lines of the judges’ comments, I gathered there was a point penalty for her use of mixed media. I wondered if Beck knew this or if she simply hadn’t cared.
I glanced through the rest of the information. Beck’s share of the prize money was seventy-five thousand dollars. I knew immediately where it, and she, had gone. I threw on some warmer clothes and headed to the marina.
Unfortunately, Mr. Avery was the first person I saw. Though he was the last person I wanted to talk to about Beck, I approached him. “Mr. Avery, good morning. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Beck Reynolds’s employer and I—”
He laughed. “Not anymore, you ain’t. Or did I hear wrong?”
Knowing the way small town people talked, I decided to stay close to the truth. “Well, I’ve been gone for a time, yes, but I’m back, and I need to let Beck know.”
His thin sneer revealed uneven teeth. “She’s been gone three, four days.” He gestured out toward the expanse of water and I steeled myself for my next words.
“Yes, well, I need to rent a boat and find her. Is there one available?”
He climbed onto the pier, standing much too close for comfort. “Were you planning on piloting it yourself?”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t getting desperate. “Heavens, no. I’ll need a, uh, pilot also.”
“Then you want to charter something. What size?”
Scanning the few remaining boats bobbing in their slots, I decided I needed something that was as safe as possible if I was actually going to do this. I pointed to a pretty white one that looked like it was made to cut through the water, with a high—and therefore more protected—enclosed area. “How about that one?”
Avery snorted. “Figures. A snooty broad like you would want a yacht for your little day jaunt.”
I frowned, ignoring his insult. Something about the look of that boat was vaguely familiar. “Well, it seems like it could handle the waves in relative comfort.”
“Oh yes, ma’am, it’s an excellent choice. If you’ve got the four hundred and fifty for half a day. And if Captain Saro is on board.”
Had my sarcasm ever been that annoying? I gestured for Avery to go ahead, thinking I’d worry about the money if the boat and captain were available. When he reached the side of the boat, he called, “Hey, Miguel. You open for business?”
A muffled reply asked, “Who wants to know?”
“This lady here may want to go out for half a day.”
A stocky, handsome man emerged from the enclosed area. When he saw me, he smiled and came down the narrow walkway that led from his deck to the pier, wiping his hands on a small towel. “How can I help you, ma’am?”
Relieved by his professional greeting, I said, “I just need you to take me one way to someone who’s already out on the water. But if I need to pay for half a day, I’m sure I could manage.”
He nodded, appearing to consider the options. “Do you have the coordinates for his location?”
Avery stepped in. “Becka Reynolds used to work for her. That’s who she’s trying to find.”
Saro’s eyebrows went up. “Beck? Didn’t she buy that pocket trawler, the Nordhavn 40?”
“Yeah. She’s already been out for a few days and didn’t file a float plan, so no telling which way she went.”
Even someone who didn’t speak boat could figure out that a float plan was something like a flight plan for a plane. I turned to Captain Saro. “Is there any other way to know where she is?”
“It’s a mighty big ocean when you’re looking for one small boat,” he said. “I guess we could try to hail her.”
I shook my head vigorously. If I could see Beck, be with her, I was certain I could make her understand what had happened. “I need to speak with her personally. It’s rather urgent.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Avery. “Wasn’t that the ship that did both an Atlantic crossing and a circumnavigation? Wouldn’t the previous owners have had an AIS for all that serious cruising?”
I was surprised by Avery’s thoughtful expression, and they went on talking in boating lingo until Captain Saro returned to his boat and started the engine while Avery trotted off in the direction of his office. I stood there, trying to decide if what was happening was good or bad. I heard the radio crackle, and Avery’s tinny voice said, “Almost Heaven.”
Saro appeared again after a few seconds and waved. “Come aboard. I’ll have to go by the pump and gas up. She’s a ways out.”
That last sentence echoed in my head as I approached the walkway to his boat. It looked much, much smaller now that I was going to be on it. I glanced out at the water. Was I really going through with this? Couldn’t I wait until Beck came ashore again and talk to her then? Sighing, I reminded myself Beck thought I was a liar and a cheat, and she might never come back.
I put one foot on the walkway and Captain Saro stretched out his hand. “Don’t look down,” he advised, so of course, that was exactly what I did. The calm water of the marina wasn’t too far away. I’d probably survive the fall if I didn’t die of fright. My feet had stopped until he took my arm and pulled me along, cautioning me to watch my step onto the deck. I was increasingly queasy as the boat bobbed under me.
He pointed toward a set of stairs. “Why don’t you go below and have a look around? The easy ride to the pump will be a perfect time to get acclimated. The rest of the trip may seem bumpy, so you can stay down there if it feels more comfortable.”
I tried to imagine a bumpy trip a ways out. “Listen, I might change my mind.” The words were out before I could stop them. “But I’ll pay for your trouble. Whatever you think is fair.”
“Normally, I ask for a deposit,” he said after studying me. “But I’ll trust you on that since I know who you are.” At my quizzical expression, he added, “My sister-in-law is Dr. Leonor Bastos. We had dinner not long after she went to the Guest House, and she told us you were giving Beck a place to stay while she recovered from some injuries. She said you seemed like a kind, protective person.”
“I’m usually not,” I confessed. “But something about Beck just made me…care.” But had she made me braver, too? Could I overcome this irrational fear of boats, the source of which I’d never tried to understand? I thought again about how something about this boat looked familiar, like something from a dream. Or a nightmare?
Smiling at my petrified expression, Saro gestured. “Feel free to look around.”
“Below” was like a small apartment, with gleaming polished wood and tidy compact furnishings. There was a small, well-designed kitchen and a comfortable-looking sitting area. Was Beck’s boat this nice? I passed a good-sized, beautifully appointed bedroom, and a smaller room with bunk beds sat across the room from each other. If they’d been twin beds, the arrangement would have been like mine and Abby’s bedroom.
I noticed a child’s book had been left on one of the top bunks. Looking closer, I saw a smiling cartoon boat on the worn cover. A long-buried memory hit me with such force I had to sit down. I had read to Abby the night that man had come in and stolen her away. She’d gone to sleep with the book in her arms while I had hidden under the covers with my flashlight and my “grown-up” chapter book. I couldn’t remember any details of my book, only that hers had to do with a terrible storm where people had to be rescued by a brave boat.
God, could it be I had subconsciously associated boats and the ocean with something bad after that horrible night? My throat tightened as I remembered how much Abby had loved stories about people who acted valiantly when they were in danger. I knew she would have become one of them—a firefighter or a police officer or one of those everyday heroes who did something magnificent for someone they didn’t even know—while the lesson I’d taken from the heartbreak of my early life was to become callous, apprehensive, and often unpleasant. Yes, my family had fallen apart, but I’d compounded that tragedy by letting my rare and reluctant concessions that I would never see Abby again turn me into her exact opposite.
Until I’d met Beck. She’d made me feel the goodness of being alive in a way I wouldn’t have believed possible and had given me the courage to try romance, both in writing and in real life. Thinking of her alone and hurting, I held the book to my chest, certain Abby would urge me to run up those stairs and sail boldly to the person I loved. Could I take on Abby’s courage and finally face my fears and my feelings?
* * *
Luckily for me, Captain Saro was enough of a gentleman to turn his head while I puked over the side of the ship—again. I couldn’t have said which unnerved me more, the rolling of the vessel as it cut through the huge expanse of water ahead or the nagging worry that since Beck’s dream had come true, maybe she was done with me, with us, for good. Between my bouts of nausea, the captain asked me to call him Miguel, and explained how the Automatic Identification System could search for boats by name. Almost Heaven was the name under which Beck’s boat had been sold, and she hadn’t renamed it yet. He was probably talking to get my mind off where I was and what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that name. Was that what we’d had? Could we ever get it back?
After what seemed like hundreds of hours, I stopped grabbing desperately for the handholds every time we hit a swell. I fought the terror of endless water by pretending I was in my car, riding on a rough road. Eventually, I opted for mimicking the way Miguel adjusted his stance to keep his balance, which made me feel a little less unstable.
“There,” he shouted suddenly, and I peered out the window at the tiny speck on the horizon. He grabbed the microphone from the radio, but I caught his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to hail her. If we can see her, she can see us. I need to let her know who we are and what we want.”
I grimaced, unable to envision any situation where Beck wouldn’t start her engine and speed away when she found out I was aboard. “Can’t we wait until we’re closer? She might not…uh, I need the chance to talk before…” I couldn’t seem to explain without sounding like a stalker.
He studied me for a few seconds before asking, “This isn’t just employer business, is it?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to face the question or the worst possible outcome. When I opened them again, we were getting close enough to make out the shape of Beck’s boat. It looked bigger than I had imagined.
Miguel was nodding. “She used to come around the marina all the time, but she hadn’t been around for a while until the other day when she stopped by to ask about the Nordhavn 40. She seemed…different. Older. And since you know her, you know she’s the type who always seems to bounce back from the knocks in her life. This time, there wasn’t any bounce.” He looked seriously at me. “Are you the reason for that?”
I tried for an innocent expression. “There was a misunderstanding. Someone else told her something that wasn’t true, so I need some time to explain that I do want this. I want to be here with her.” I managed a half-smile. “Well, not here like out here on the water, but here on the island.”
“Like a lot of folks from here, she’s got the ocean in her blood.” His intent expression matched his tone. “Were you expecting that to change?”
“Well, this boat part, yes. It’s too dangerous,” I countered. “Her father—”
“I know. But over thirty-five thousand people a year are killed in car accidents, while less than seven hundred die in boats.”
As I pondered my response, Miguel’s radio crackled. Avery’s voice announced, “I’m getting transmission from Almost Heaven. She wants to know who’s approaching. I’m assuming it’s you.”
“Affirmative,” Miguel replied. “We’re in sight. I’ll hail her shortly.” He turned to me. “Well? Moment of truth here. Are you going to make her choose between you and her boat?”
Was I? I let out a breath, trusting the bubble of safety I’d put around her in my mind. “No,” I said slowly. “Just between having me and not having me. After that, we can work everything else out.”
He pushed a lever forward, and the boat picked up speed as he spoke into the microphone. “Captain Reynolds, this is Captain Sora. Are you receiving me?” Winking, he said to me, “I’m going to try to stretch this out until we’re right on her. Hang on.”
We closed the distance while Miguel exchanged small talk with Beck about her new boat and the weather, intermittently clicking the microphone button and varying his speaking voice from very low to shouting, all the while complaining about his radio being on the fritz. By the time Beck repeated her question about his destination for the third time, I could make out someone behind the windows at the top level of her boat. When the figure lifted a set of binoculars, I ducked below, hiding.
Miguel gave me a look. “I have a passenger who’s interested in your boat,” he practically whispered into the mic. “We’d like permission to tie on for a few minutes.”
I’d been so excited about being able to talk to Beck that I hadn’t considered what the process of getting from one boat to another would entail. “Tie on?” I hissed at Miguel.
“That’s how it’s done out on the water. It’s not hard. You’ll step over.”
Even without experience with such things, I could tell Beck’s boat was taller than Miguel’s. I tried to stop thinking about what came next as he repeated every second or third word of his previous message. I felt and heard the engine slow. I had to believe this crazy idea would work. That everything would work out.
I stayed out of sight until Miguel’s engine was barely running, and I could hear Beck’s voice clearly. “But there’s not another boat like this for sale right now.”
“Actually, I don’t think it’s the boat she’s interested in,” Miguel said, motioning to me.
When I stepped onto the deck, the confused expression on Beck’s face flattened. “You lied to me,” she said, but I wasn’t sure who she was talking to. I moved toward the walkway they’d set up, which was tilted to accommodate the height of Beck’s boat.
“Beck, please. Please give me a chance to explain. Mel is the one who lied. None of what she said is true.”
But she was already walking away toward the front of the boat. “Go!” Miguel urged me, giving me a hand up so I could grab on to the flimsy railing on the walkway. “If she fires her engine, we’ll have to turn loose.”
It was a damn good thing my stomach was already empty. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been as scared. Well, I could, but I didn’t want to. Not now. Now I needed to concentrate on what it would take to make Beck give me another chance. A large wave rolled both boats, and I screamed. Unplanned, it nevertheless did the trick. Beck stopped and looked toward me. As I flailed senselessly, she started in my direction. Encouraged, I called out, “God, Beck. Please help me. You don’t have to take me back, but please don’t let me fall.”
Intent on watching what she was doing, I failed to notice a wet spot on the walkway where the bigger wave had splashed. My foot slipped, and I almost lost my balance. Crying, I lurched forward, closer now to her boat than to Miguel’s. Beck stood at the other end of the walkway with her arms outstretched. “Jump, Emily. Jump and I’ll catch you!”
If this wasn’t a leap of faith, then I didn’t understand the phrase. I righted myself to the point I could push off and did. Our bodies collided. The force of my movement knocked her to the ground, and she took me with her. We lay stunned for a few seconds until Miguel called, “Everyone shipshape over there?” Beck groaned. I wanted to laugh with relief but could only cough. “I’m going to tie off,” he called, and Beck sat up, dumping me off her.
“Wait! What about Emily?” she asked as he pulled the walkway back onto his boat and secured it with the rope he’d used to tie us together.
“What about her?” he answered.
“How will she get to shore?” Beck stood and brushed herself off.
“Talk to her about that.” He revved his engine and pulled away from us. By the time I’d gotten to my feet, his boat had turned and was already getting smaller in the distance. I sighed, a tiny part of me wishing I was going that way too. But first things first.
“Thank you for catching me,” I said, looking at my feet.
“I guess you’re welcome. But what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in New York City with Mel?”
Beck’s voice had an unfamiliar, gruff tone to it. Was it because she hadn’t spoken much lately or because she was angry at me? I looked into her eyes, mustering all the sincerity I had in me. “Beck, I swear nothing she told you is true. Since I got to my apartment that night and saw your note, all I wanted to do was find you. I fired Mel since I can’t count on her, but you can count on me. I’ve already made plans to buy the Guest House.”
“You did?” Beck looked stunned. “Why?”
Since I wasn’t sure which statement she was asking about, I just nodded as my first reply. Taking her face in my hands, I answered the real question. “Here’s the thing. I love you.”