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Time was getting away from him, he realized. He needed to get the spare bedroom ready for Jack. Ismay was probably on her way to get him right now.
Bastian insisted on paying for dinner, and Ismay let him because he was the one who’d extended the invitation and insisted she go, even though she’d told him she wasn’t hungry.
Afterward, he acted as if he’d accompany her to the airport. But she managed to sidestep that—barely—by saying it would be better if she had a little time alone with Jack. She could tell Bastian didn’t like not getting what he wanted, making it awkward having to insist, especially since she was using the Windsors’ Jeep. But she had no idea what shape her brother would be in emotionally and could easily guess he wouldn’t be excited to meet anyone, especially one of the Windsors, as soon as he walked off the plane. Beyond that, Jack didn’t know he couldn’t tell Bastian he was staying with Bo. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable about it.
If she could just keep Remy’s brother and Jack separated for a few days—long enough to create a believable story on how Jack came to be staying in Bo’s bungalow—everything would be okay. She hoped she’d be able to say that Jack had needed something to keep himself occupied while he was on the island, and she’d known Bo could use his help. Then she’d explain that after a day of working together, Bo had invited him to stay since he had an extra bedroom. She felt that would be her best chance of ensuring no one, including Remy, had a problem with the arrangement.
The cobblestone streets caused the Jeep to shimmy as she passed the quaint shops and restaurants downtown, with their mid-nineteenth century architecture and sidewalk dining beneath the tall leafy elm trees that lined most major streets. She wanted to take Jack out to eat before going to Bo’s so they could have some time to talk. But it would be rude to arrive at Bo’s too late, so she thought she’d order some food while Jack was deplaning and take it over to Bo’s. With any luck, by the time she returned to Windsor Cottage, Bastian would be asleep—or if he continued to drink, maybe he’d just pass out. She’d never seen anyone consume so much alcohol in one night.
The parking lot was nearly full, but she managed to find a space along the perimeter. Then she used her phone to place an order for three meals of fish and chips at a restaurant that had fabulous Yelp reviews and hurried inside the small airport, where Boeing Business Jets, carrying sixteen people, took off and landed—weather permitting—several times a day.
While she waited in the crowded room for Jack’s plane to come in, she received a text from her mother.Has he arrived yet?
Not yet, she wrote back.I’ll let you know when I’ve got him.
Good. I’m worried about him. But I’m glad you convinced him to leave this place. Tongues here are already wagging.
Ismay had known they would be, but she was still surprised her mother would admit she was glad Jack had the opportunity to leave. She’d thought her parents would be angry she’d tempted him away from the farm.
I’ll take good care of him. Have you talked to Ashleigh?
I tried calling her. She won’t pick up.
Ismay was going to leave it there, but her mother sent another message.
Ashleigh’s mother called me today, though.
Marie? What’d she have to say?
She was in tears. Said she couldn’t understand what had possessed her daughter to do what she did.
She doesn’t believe Ashleigh’s gay?
You know what she believes.
That sexuality was a choice—despite all the scientific research indicating otherwise.
What do *you* believe?
Don’t bait me, Ismay. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m just glad you’re there to help us get through this.
Ismay smiled at her mother’s message. Suddenly, the gulf between them didn’t seem quite so wide. Maybe the tragedy of Jack’s divorce would pull them back together, so there’d be a silver lining to all the pain.
Travelers coming from the tarmac began to stream into the building. Ismay waited anxiously until she saw her brother, who was easy to spot because of his height, even though he was at the back of the line. He wore a world-weary expression that made him look much older than when she’d seen him last, with hollow eyes and tousled hair.
“You okay?” she murmured as he reached her and bent to give her a hug.
“I’m breathing,” he said.
“You’re going to get through this.”
His mouth twisted into an approximation of a smile. “I’m gladyou’reconfident.”
“I am.” She drew him toward the baggage claim area. “How was it, flying for your first time?”
“If I had more fight in me, I would’ve been scared to death,” he said with the same wry note in his voice. “Instead, I was praying we’d just go down, and it’d all be over.”
She swatted his arm. “Don’t talk like that.”
