13

The evening passed on leaden feet. Marlow couldn’t help being distracted. It felt as though she could hear every tick of the clock, even though they were out on the deck playing chess and there was no clock.

“Wow!” Aida exclaimed. “Am I really going to beat you?”

Marlow forced her attention back to the board. She’d lost a bishop, a rook, both knights and several pawns—a lot more pieces than Aida had lost. “It’s not looking good for me,” she admitted.

She’d been too busy trying to make up her mind about whether she should go to Walker’s tonight. They needed to talk, try to find some calm in the storm that raged around them whenever they were together.

Aida used her knight to take Marlow’s last rook, which put her in an even worse position. She had to risk losing her bishop to save her queen. She was being forced into a defensive game. That wasn’t how she usually played, but it served her right for not paying attention.

Claire had returned from her walk and was sitting at the table, sipping a glass of wine while looking through Pinterest, she said, for various ideas for Marlow’s birthday, which was five days away. When she heard what Aida said, she sprang to her feet and came over to see for herself. “Wow! You’re going to beat Marlow!”

Eileen got up to take a closer peek at the board, too. “Way to go,” she said to Aida. “I can’t remember the last time I beat her. I think she was twelve.”

The game wasn’t over yet. There was a chance Marlow could recover, but she didn’t care enough about the win to fight for it. She just wanted everyone to go to bed so she wouldn’t have to keep up the pretense of being engaged in what was going on around her.

“I’m tired.” Eileen dropped a kiss on Marlow’s cheek before telling her friends good-night.

“Let me walk you in,” Marlow said and promised Aida she’d be right back to finish the game.

“It’s so good to have you home,” her mother said as Marlow took her arm and they went inside.

“It’s good to be here, too,” she said. What she didn’t add was that she missed her father terribly, and the memories being on the island evoked made her feel his loss all the more poignantly.

“You don’t miss your work?” Eileen asked. “You’re really going to let it go?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about that completely.” She released her mother’s arm so Eileen could precede her into the room. “It’s early in the summer yet.”

“I agree. It’s never wise to make a snap decision, especially about something as important as your future.”

“Whatever I decide, I won’t do it impulsively,” she promised and got her mother’s nightgown for her and draped it across the bed. “Dinner tonight was delicious, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Rosemary is such a good cook.”

“Where is she tonight?”

“She didn’t say.”

Marlow was glad Rosemary felt free to come and go as she pleased. With Tiller gone and no one else around to look after Eileen, Marlow had been concerned that her mother’s housekeeper might be feeling trapped. “Does she go out very often?”

“More so lately. After being cooped up for so long, she’s probably thrilled to have a chance to leave the house, especially now that you’re here so she doesn’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m happy I can help. Do you need anything before I finish my game with Aida? We’re going to the guesthouse to watch a movie in a few minutes.”

“Not a thing.”

“I’ll keep my phone with me, just in case.”

“Thank you.” Her mother embraced her, and they wished each other a good night. Then Marlow returned to the deck and quickly lost the chess game, partially on purpose. She hoped the movie would be more successful at distracting her from what she’d done with Walker in the restroom at the club today.

Before they started the movie, Aida wanted to bake some chocolate chip cookies, and Claire, who’d gone into the ocean before dinner, decided to take a shower. Grateful that her friends would be occupied for a short time, Marlow went down to the beach so she could be alone.

As she walked in the wet sand, the warm waves occasionally rolling up to cover her feet, she wished she could turn around and see her father standing on the deck in a pool of light from the house, waving at her. It was hard to imagine that he’d never be there again. If only she’d spent more time with him while he was alive. But she’d never dreamed he’d pass away at such a young age.

She dropped her head back to gaze up at the stars that were beginning to come out. At least she had this place, where she could still feel close to him. She breathed deeply, taking in the salty air—and reached for him with her mind.

I miss you.

She was about to head back to the guesthouse when she saw the gumbo-limbo tree at the very edge of the property that she and Walker had discovered as children. A fast-growing tree that was common all over the island, it had red, peeling bark, so the locals jokingly referred to it as a “tourist tree.” She was only eight—Walker was ten—when they found that this particular gumbo-limbo had a hole in the trunk. Pretending it was where Edward Teach had hidden some of his pirate booty, they started hiding cookies and small treasures in it. And as they grew older and quit playing together, she’d occasionally find other gifts he’d left her.

Walker had never admitted that he was the giver of these small, sweet items. But she knew it couldn’t be anyone else. She remembered finding coins, a pack of gum, a pretty rock, some flowers. Nothing very expensive, of course. They reminded her of the gifts Boo Radley had left for Jem and Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird. Walker simply gave her what he had—anything he thought she might like.

Remembering that now made her feel so much worse about how she’d treated him in later years.

“Why couldn’t I have been born an adult?” she muttered.

There was nothing inside the tree now. She felt silly even checking, but as unlikely as it was, she was halfway hoping there’d be a token of his forgiveness.

Then it occurred to her—maybe she should be the one to leave something for him.

She hurried to the big house, quietly let herself in so she wouldn’t disturb her mother and went into her old bedroom, where she dug through the drawers of the dresser until she found what she was looking for. She doubted Walker would ever think to check the gumbo-limbo—not these days. He probably wouldn’t want to find anything from her even if he did.

But for the sake of her own conscience, she had to close that gap.

Aida stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. All she could think about was Claire and Dutton.

Although Claire hadn’t mentioned it, Aida was certain Dutton was still calling and texting her, and that drove Aida crazy. She wished she was so far beyond the divorce that she no longer cared. But she did care; she couldn’t help it. Just the thought that they might be getting back together had claws, and those claws seemed to be tearing her apart from the inside.

“She knows he’s no good,” she whispered to herself. “She’d be stupid to get involved with him again.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Who could say no to Dutton, especially when he was being his most charming? When he smiled that captivating smile and made a woman feel as though she was the most important person in the room? And didn’t most women want to marry someone as smart and successful as he was? Being the wife of a surgeon was something to be proud of.

She’d always been proud of it, anyway. No doubt she was mourning the loss of her previous status along with everything else. Being a divorcée wasn’t the same.

“What does that say about me?” she mumbled, but decided not to even try to answer that question. It was more than she could handle right now. She was already wrestling with such a huge sense of loss. With the news that Dutton was trying to get Claire back, that loss suddenly felt fresh again.

Before, she’d felt cheated by Dutton. Now she felt cheated by Claire.

What was she going to do? How was she going to get through this?

Sitting up, she dropped her head in her hands and began rubbing her temples. She had to leave what Claire did up to Claire and continue to heal and move on. What happened between the two of them shouldn’t matter to her.

And yet it did.

With a sigh, she got up and went out to the living room. They’d watched a movie before wandering off to their separate bedrooms. Maybe Claire had left her phone charging on the counter. Aida had seen it there earlier. She had no idea if it was locked and would require facial recognition or a passcode to get in, but she had to at least try to find out what was going on. What the two of them were saying to each other. If Claire was now lying to her the way Dutton once did.

And if there was none of that, if Claire had told him to leave her alone, maybe Aida could stop torturing herself.

She searched the room, but the phone was gone. Of course Claire would take it to bed with her.

She was on the way back to her own room when she noticed that Claire’s door stood slightly ajar. Compelled in spite of her conscience, Aida pushed it wider, wondering if it would make a sound, but it didn’t. She managed to push it far enough to see the shape of Claire’s body in the bed.

She waited to see if her friend would lift her head and ask what she wanted, but that didn’t happen. Aida could hear Claire’s soft, steady breathing. She was sound asleep—and her phone was charging on the nightstand beside her.

Aida’s heart began to thump against her breastbone as she stepped inside the room. She almost couldn’t bear to see what she might find on Claire’s phone; at the same time, she was obsessed with it.

When the wooden floor creaked under her feet, she froze, but Claire didn’t even stir.

Holding her breath and moving as slowly as possible, Aida inched closer to the nightstand, where she carefully unplugged the phone.

A wave of guilt swept over her, and she put the phone back down only to pick it up again. She had to see what they were saying, had to know if she had anything to worry about. Was Dutton telling Claire the same things he’d once told her? That he couldn’t live without her? That he’d make her happy? That he’d always be faithful?

The passcode prompt came up on the screen. But she didn’t know Claire’s passcode. She could try holding the phone up to Claire’s face to see if it would unlock that way, but that might wake her.

Hot tears welled up as Aida punched in a few numbers, trying to guess the password. Nothing worked. She couldn’t believe she was stooping so low. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t the person she wanted to be. She and her friends were hoping to use this summer to improve themselves, not fall to new lows.

Dashing away her tears, she carefully plugged the phone back in and put it on the nightstand before creeping out of the room. But she couldn’t leave the matter there. When she returned to her bed, she took her own phone from the charger and texted Dutton.

It was three hours earlier in California, only ten thirty. She saw three dots, signifying that he was texting her back. But he must’ve decided not to send whatever he’d composed, because she never got a response from him.

Walker prowled around the house, waiting to see if Marlow would show up. He told himself he hoped she wasn’t coming. She’d always been the worst possible thing for him. But the later it got, the more he began to listen for her car and get up to check the windows if he heard something.

Fortunately, he didn’t have her number. He’d had it at one time, for practical reasons, but had deleted the contact, and he was now glad, because he probably would’ve called her.

He thought of his brother. Reese lived at Seaclusion and might have some idea of what Marlow and her friends were doing. Maybe they were all having another bonfire.

Just in case his brother was with Marlow, he texted instead of calling. What’re you up to tonight, bro?

He didn’t get an answer right away. It wasn’t until after he’d watched another episode of Forensic Files that he felt his phone buzz.

Reese wouldn’t know about Marlow, not if he was out with one of the girls he dated.

“Smart-ass,” Walker muttered. You’re up, aren’t you?

Fine. We’ll do it another night. Have a great time. He was tempted to warn his brother to use one of the condoms he’d purchased but didn’t have the audacity after two encounters within the past twenty-four hours where he’d resorted to the risky withdrawal method.

What if, by chance, he’d gotten Marlow pregnant?

He heard a noise outside and got up again to check, but it was just the wind or the usual house-settling noises, because no one was there.

Fairly certain Marlow wasn’t coming, he pulled off his clothes so he could drop into bed and was just reaching over to set his phone on the charger when he received a text.

It wasn’t from Marlow; it was from his mother.

He sat up. I am. Why?

That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. He’d thought maybe there was a problem with Mrs. Madsen and she needed to be taken to the hospital. Where are you?

Impressed and relieved she knew how to do that, he got dressed while waiting to receive her location. But when he picked up his phone again, he was shocked to see she was halfway to Miami. What are you doing there? he wrote.

“A date?” he said aloud. That was something he’d never heard his mother say before. With who?

As he scooped his keys off the kitchen counter, he glanced down at their text exchange again. “A date,” he repeated.

Marlow’s alarm went off so early it was still dark outside. She turned it off, hoping that Aida and Claire would do the same with theirs. But she knew she wasn’t going to get that wish when she heard Claire call out from her bedroom, “Rise and shine! We have to hurry or we’re going to miss it.”

“Miss what?” Aida called back, sounding as groggy as Marlow felt.

“The sunrise!” Claire said. “Last night, you said you’d do yoga on the beach with me.”

Why on earth had she agreed to that? Marlow wondered. Wasn’t yoga at ten just as cathartic as yoga at six? She let her eyes slide closed, but Claire spoke again, this time from the doorway to her bedroom. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course,” she mumbled. “I’m getting up to do yoga.”

“Okay, I’ll check on Aida.”

“You do that,” she said, but it wasn’t until she smelled coffee and heard Aida moving around in the bathroom next to her bedroom—proof Claire had been successful in rousing her, too—that she was able to drag herself out of bed.

“I need to remember that I’m not a morning person,” she grumbled and yawned her way through getting into her yoga pants, a sports bra and tank. When she’d stuffed her feet into her flip-flops, she shuffled into the kitchen to see Aida covering a yawn of her own.

“Why did we agree to this?” Marlow asked.

“We must’ve forgotten that we’re on vacation,” Aida replied.

Claire sent them a remonstrative look while pouring them each a cup of coffee. “We’re hitting reset on our lives. That isn’t vacation. We have a lot of work to do.”

“We’re that far away from becoming our best selves?” Aida joked, and Marlow chuckled.

“Probably farther than we’d like to admit.” Claire sounded annoyingly chipper, but Marlow didn’t mind so much once she’d taken a few sips of coffee.

“You’re going to love greeting the day like this,” Claire promised them. “Actually, you’re greeting the whole week. It’s Sunday.”

“Feels more like a Monday than a Sunday,” Marlow muttered. But after finishing her coffee, she hurried to brush her teeth and put her hair in a ponytail while Claire and Aida did the same.

By the time Claire shepherded them down to the beach, Marlow’s mood hadn’t improved by a whole lot. Once she was there in the peaceful dawn, however, with the sandpipers picking through the silt of low tide, the frigate birds, which could stay aloft for months without ever landing, wheeling high overhead, and the fiddler crabs sticking their claws and eyeballs out of their burrows as if to see what was going on, she was glad she’d made the effort. She’d forgotten how beautiful Teach was at sunrise.

“What’s most important is remaining mindful,” Claire instructed. “So we’ll start with ten minutes of meditation to help us quiet our minds and find our center.”

Marlow’s mind had been quiet while she was sleeping. But as they sat in the lotus position, eyes closed, and Claire gave them instructions to focus on their breathing, Marlow’s thoughts automatically returned to her encounter with Walker on the beach and then in the bathroom of the club, and whether or not it would’ve helped to show up at his house last night to try to talk about it—all the things she’d been obsessing over before falling asleep.

Fortunately, she was able to forget Walker once they started doing the more challenging poses. She had to focus to have the strength. She was in the middle of a headstand, which Claire could hold forever, when she caught a glimpse of someone standing on the deck of the big house. She so desperately wanted it to be her father that she fell over, then jumped up and turned around to get a better look.

It wasn’t Tiller, of course, but she was still surprised to see that Walker had been leaning on the railing in his uniform, drinking a cup of coffee and probably watching the sun come up—before she and her friends had spilled onto the beach, giving him something else to watch.

She didn’t wave, and neither did he. As soon as he realized she’d noticed him, he straightened and went back inside.