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SEVENTEEN
Ben
When you have good friends,it turns out you can’t even mope on your yacht in isolation. Not without them sticking their intrusive noses in your business.
In Hunter’s case, he also comes with dogs who stick their noses in myactualbusiness.
“Hey, now,” I say, gently redirecting the two dogs who seem intensely interested in greeting me by way of aggressively sniffing my crotch. “What happened to a good, old-fashioned good morning?”
Sunbeam, Hunter’s shepherd mix, gives a low woof, sitting back on her haunches, but the Great Dane, Lilith, flops down on the rug with a groan. She takes up practically the whole room.
Hunter chuckles. “There you go. They said hi. Your face looks like a frat house after a weeklong rager.”
“I don’t understand the analogy,” I say. “But thanks?”
Jake steps into the room, glancing around with a frown, though the only thing really out of place in the lounge is me, sprawled out on the couch in yesterday’s clothes. I discreetlygive myself a sniff. Notthatbad. I’m not sure why my friends are acting like I’m some kind of charity case. I’m not surrounded by a thousand beer cans or dirty dishes. And sure—maybe that’s because I’m not into beer when I’m already sad and because Leandra cleaned up all my dirty dishes.
But I’m really doing just FINE, thank you.
“What Hunter means to say is it looks like we got here just in time.” Jake takes a seat in a chair across from me, his crisp suit and sharp eyes giving me all-business vibes.
I should have known I couldn’t just wallow in peace. But then, I did text both of them last night, pumping them for information. Things like: is Sadie still on the island, and did she say anything to her sisters that they, in turn, said to their husbands that they could, in turn, say to me. But I guess when you’re married, you don’t always give up your wife’s secrets.
I set down the book on World War II submarines I’ve been reading—more like staring at the pages—and remove my reading glasses from the top of my head.
“Just in time for what?” I ask.
“To save you from making a stupid mistake,” Hunter says. He takes the seat next to Jake, which means now they’re both directly across from me like some kind of committee, ready to weigh in on my actions.
I roll my eyes. “Ah. So, this is the part where you judge my life choices, find me lacking, and give me your sage and unsolicited advice?”
“Precisely,” Jake says. He’s not smiling.
Hunter, however, chuckles again. “Glad you’re amenable to the idea.”
“Amenable, huh? We’re breaking out all the big words today. It must be serious.”
“You should go take a shower,” Jake suggests. “And shave.”
“Personally, I like the stubble,” Hunter says.
“Of course, you would, lumberjack.”
“And he doesn’t smellthatbad,” Hunter tells Jake.
“I don’t smell atall,” I say.
“My dogs disagree.”
I glance at Hunter’s dogs. Lilith is already snoring softly, but Sunbeam is still sitting at my feet, tail swishing along the floor.
“Maybe they just like me.”
“Maybe we should stop beating around the proverbial bush and ask you why you’re here alone instead of going after Sadie?” Jake asks.
I drag my hands down my face, feeling the extra growth of stubble from my lack of showering and personal hygiene over the past twenty-four hours. Is that all it’s been? It feels like so much longer from the time I woke up and realized Sadie had already gone, taking her things and her agents without so much as a note.
Which, to me, sure seemed like a very firm period at the end of our conversation the night before.
