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“I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Wait until I get there. Then we can have a heart-to-heart, and I’ll prove to you how much I love you—that I’ll never do anything like this again.”
She began to massage her left temple. The best indicator of future behavior was past behavior. Her parents preached that all the time. Would she be a fool to give him another chance?
Did she have any choice? She was stuck on the island for the summer. And she wouldn’t want to pull the plug on a three-year-long relationship too soon. Hehadbeen under a lot of pressure, and her heart had wandered a bit, too. “I... I’ll do my best,” she said numbly.
Ismay’s door was still closed when Bastian approached it. He hadn’t seen her come out yet this morning. But he’d heard the shower. “Good morning!” he called, giving the panel a brisk knock.
There was no answer.
“Ismay?” He thought he heard movement. “Hello?”
“Just...just a minute,” she called back.
Her voice had a nasal quality, and when she opened the door, he could see why. She’d been crying. There were no tears now, but her eyes were red and puffy. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she replied.
“Does this...have anything to do with Jack?”
“No.”
“Remy?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said wearily.
So itwasRemy. Otherwise, she probably would’ve said no again. “I’m sorry you’re upset.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Really. What’s going on with you today?”
“I’m about to head out to lunch with my friends and was hoping you’d join us.”
She shook her head. “I don’t feel like going out.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “I know you’ll love them. And they’ll love you. Moping around here won’t help whatever you’re going through.”
After an extended pause, she said, “Okay. Just...give me a minute.”
“I’ll wait downstairs,” he told her.
Surprised and a bit encouraged, he went down to the front entryway—and smiled when she eventually came out and descended the stairs. Remy had caught himself a real beauty, someone who seemed sincere, kind, fair.
This was really going to be good, he thought with a smile.
Matilda was calling again. Bo silenced his ringer before mopping the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt. But only a minute later, his phone dinged with a text. He hadn’t picked up, so she’d messaged him.
It’s about Uncle Chester.
Shit.She had him. Since Chester didn’t have a phone of any kind—refused the cell Bo had tried to give him—it was difficult to check on him. Bo wrote him snail mail letters, but it’d been probably two months since Chester had responded. Bo had written to a neighbor but hadn’t heard from him, either. Had they all been flooded out again? Global warming certainly wasn’t treating those who lived in that area very well.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked.
Bo’s expression must’ve betrayed him. He quickly schooled his features to mask the emotions flooding through him. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just have to call my sister. Mind if we take a few minutes?”
Jack stood his shovel against one of the fence posts they’d put in and removed the leather gloves he was wearing. “Not at all.” He bent to retrieve his water bottle. “Ran out of water about an hour ago. I’m going to the house to fill up. You need anything?”
“No, I’m good.” Bo waited until Jack was halfway to the house before returning Matilda’s call.
