Page 73 of Rhodes

We haven't been alone since the garden, and apparently my body notices before the rest of me does. The second his eyes meet mine, everything from earlier comes back. Not the argument, but the way his jaw shifted when he told me he probably couldn't sit there and watch somebody ignore my no.

I set the plates down.

Rhodes grabs his phone from the table. "You headed back?"

"Yeah. I should probably go to bed so I can function tomorrow"

We walk out together. The path climbs between the villas in shallow stone steps, lit every few yards by little lamps tucked into the walls. Somewhere below us somebody is still laughing, and another door bangs shut.

For a while, Rhodes and I don't say anything. It isn't uncomfortable, which is almost worse. My villa comes first, so I stop at the little iron gate and put my hand on the latch.

I turn toward him. "This is me."

He's standing one step below me, which should make him shorter and somehow doesn't. His collar is still open from dinner, sleeves pushed up his forearms, and there is enough space between us that nothing about this should feel like anything.

"Sleep tight, Tallulah," he says.

"Night."

My heartbeat picks up. His eyes drop to my mouth. It happens so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined it.

He turns and heads down the path toward his villa. I let myself through the gate and close it quietly behind me.

Libba's door on the first floor is closed. She's the smart twin, probably already asleep. I walk up to my room, change in the dark, wash my face, and climb into bed with the windows open to the sea.

NINETEEN

Rhodes

Repointing: Failed mortar is raked out and packed back by hand, one joint at a time, and the new mortar must be softer than the brick around it. Harder mortar looks stronger and holds beautifully, and the brick takes the stress instead, and the wall destroys itself from the inside while appearing perfectly sound.

The terrace sits above the water like it's floating. Rows of white chairs face a stone arch, and beyond it there's nothing but the sea going flat and silver all the way out to where it stops being anything.

Lemon trees stand in pots along the aisle. Somebody's playing a guitar off to the side, soft, and the whole thing smells like it was copy and pasted from a Martha Stewart magazine spread.

Cooper drops into the chair beside me, still tugging his jacket straight.

"Made it," he says. "Barely. Cab driver took the mountain road like he was being chased."

"You look like you slept in that."

"I did sleep in this." He grins, elbows me. "Least I own a tie, brother. When'd you learn to knot one?"

"YouTube."

Two rows up, Tallulah turns her head at the sound of him, and I catch the side of her face. A loose piece of hair she keeps tucking back falls in front of her face.

Then the guitar changes and everybody stands.

Greer comes down the aisle on her father, Thomas', arm. Granger's got Sisue on his lap near the front, and she's babbling, reaching for the flowers, not contained at all, and nobody's trying to fix it. It's just part of the noise.

Then Cain.

I've watched this man handle everything his whole life. A problem shows up and Cain manages it, contains it, turns it into a deal before it can turn into a feeling. He married Greer exactly that way, a situation to solve and a contract with an end date. He kept want off the table by design, because Cain decided a long time ago that anything that matters is just something that can be taken from you.

He's my brother in every way that counts, and I know the move because it's mine, cut from different cloth.

He doesn't run it now.