He’s a magician, Remy thought later that night when she reluctantly parted from Jeremiah and padded toward her bathroom.
She’d plainly listed the reasons why she wanted distance from him. And those reasons had been so valid! But he had a way of making her want him more than she wanted all the sensible things she should value more.
He was smart, ridiculously enjoyable to look at, andgood. Good in a way her soul recognized.
The spell he cast was a powerful one.
Even now, her skin was flushed. She felt both drained from the difficult emotions of the evening and giddy.
No doubt it would have been better for her if she could have stuck to her guns and insisted he return to the mainland. But she hadn't insisted.
He would leave eventually. Maybe even soon. His memories would come back, he’d be reunited with himself, and he’d leave. She might survive that so long as she did notunder any circumstancescome to rely on having him around.
The following morning, Jeremiah met Remy on her front deck, and they followed an overgrown path to Restoration Point. They were admiring the view of the small, uninhabited islands off the coast when his phone alarm went off.
She looked at him inquiringly.
“Your yoga session is supposed to start in five minutes,” he announced.
“You’re setting alarms on your phone now for my schedule?”
“I know how you like to stay on track.”
“If yoga is starting in five minutes, then I’m very much off track. It’s a twenty-five-minute walk back to my house.”
“You’re a terrible influence on me.” He grinned.
“You’re the one who’s a terrible influence! I’m never late for yoga.”
On Tuesday, he ensured she was back at home after their walk right on time.
On Wednesday, classical music greeted him when he arrived at her house for dinner. She didn’t respond to his knock, so once again he let himself in through the window.
He went to her studio to alert her to his arrival—but stilled in the doorway, transfixed. She was busy carving. Creativity hovered in the air even more powerfully than the scent of wood. Her hair was high on top of her head. One section had escaped, and she’d thrust it behind her ear. Another tendril fell against the delicate skin at the back of her neck.
When her phone alarm sounded, she glanced up, then shrieked at the sight of him as if he’d materialized from thin air. “Jeremiah! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“No. I’m trying to feed you dinner. It’s quitting time.”
“What?It can’t be.”
“It is.” He found her phone on the floor in the corner and showed her the time.
She gaped at the screen, clearly wondering who had stolen her day. “I need twenty more minutes.”
Graciously, he left her alone. She repaid him for his cooperation with a leisurely dinner. They talked about big things and inconsequential things. She explained the latest disappointments regarding her search for Marisol. He explained his disappointments regarding his search for clues about Alexis. They ate lobster. They laughed.
Simply watching her fascinated him. Her emphatic gestures, the fire in her eyes, her expressive face.
On Thursday night, they had dinner with Leigh at Leigh’s house. Jeremiah and Remy worked together to make clam chowder, sourdough bread, and a dessert of chocolate pudding.
Leigh entertained Jeremiah by recounting what it had been like to grow up in Maine. The Islehaven of today was a difficult place, but according to her it was as luxurious as a diamond bracelet compared to the past.
“He’s a good housemate, you know,” Leigh said to Remy, indicating him. “I can see why you kept him as long as you did at your house.”
“I kept him at my house out of sheer necessity. Not because he’s a good housemate.”
“He cleans up after himself and then some,” Leigh said. “Plus, he’s a great conversationalist.”
