“How do you do it so well?”
I halt and yank my attention to her. “What do you mean?”
She chews her bottom lip. “Marriage. You and Mrs. Jones appear…unapologetically in love. More than most that stay on this island.” She peers at the wall, a slight blush in her cheeks, then she pulls her hair to one side. “Asking for a friend.”
I recall the conversation with Lynn and Akari at The Tiki Taco.“A friend, huh?”
“It’s complicated.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “You’d think I’d be a relationship expert working at a place like this. It seems like an impossible task.”
I chuckle. “Don’t I know it.”
When her gaze casts downward, I can tell she’s thinking about someone. I scramble for something to say.
“Be honest and tell them how you feel. We can’t expect someone to be fully honest when we aren’t radically honest with ourselves first.”
She faces me, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “I’ll give it a try. Thanks.”
I flash her a friendly wink. “Good luck.”
After waving goodbye, I go to pick up the food and continue on my journey to see my favorite dimpled grin. By the time I leave the café, I know I’m going to take my own advice. The case is over. There’s nothing left to do but tell Basil the truth and spend the rest of our time on this island together.
I enter the villa and peer toward the center of the room. The wind knocks out of me. Juliette is sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the over. Her eyes are as pitch black as her suit, and the cunning smile tugging at her lips points right at me. Papers and pictures lie scattered on the coffee table. My jaw drops, as does the small container of food in my hand. Sounds of cracking plastic hit the air. The next thing I see is Basil standing by the window, facing me with bloodshot eyes, evidence of stale tears.No.
I scramble to place the items on the entryway bench. “Let me explain. Please Basil.”
Arms folded over her chest, she screams, “Explainwhat? That your”—she uses her hands as air quotes—“‘consulting’ business means you’re a fucking private investigator? This has all been a game to you!” Her brows pinch together. “Clearly, I can’t trustanyonein my family except Hazel.” Her glare bounces from her mother to me. “But you, Caroline—” Her voice cracks with emotion. “You completely blindsided me.”
I take two steps forward, but I halt, my feet stuck in quicksand of my guilt. “I’m so sorry.” I hold an open palm out. “Please—okay, yes. I know how bad this looks. It started off as a job, but then—”
“But then it turned out you’re a hell of an actress?” She huffs. “I really ought to hire you. I've never had an employee so committed to their 'job.' None of this was real for you.”
Mouth agape, I nod. “Yes, it’s real.” I attempt to explain from the beginning, tripping over my words like a bumbling idiot, then I pause to start again. “I didn’t know that this would happen when we met at the hotel.”
“You didn’t know what?”
“That you would turn out to be my target and that I’d fall—”
“Don’t.” She points to her heart, then mine with a wobbly chin “This doesn’t matter, because you meannothingto me.” Our memories together and the hurt in her eyes tell me otherwise. “You never did.”
No. No. No.I shake my head frantically. “That can’t be true…please don’t say that.” Despite the lump in my throat, I continue, “I love you, Basil.”
The room freezes. This is not how I envisioned the first time telling Basil my true feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
Silence.
We stare at each other for what feels like eternity, until she wipes her tears carefully with a tissue. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out, only a heavy breath filled with shame, hurt, and loss.
“Get out.” Her icy tone sends a jarring chill down my spine. She points to the door, then diverts her gaze out the window, her eyes cold enough to freeze the glass. “Just leave.” Her words are barely audible, but the message is clear. We’re over.
“Basil—”
“Ms. King,” Juliette interrupts. She stands and approaches me with her arm stretched out. A flash of pain etches her face, as if she’s realizing the magnitude of the situation as well as the consequence of her arrival. She purses her lips. “You don’t get the luxury of quitting forlove. You’re fired.”
I look down at the piece of paper shoved in front of me. A ticket for an early flight back to Seattle. The warmth and fullness that canvassed my heart minutes ago is gone, replaced with a persistent, hollow ache. “I—”
“Your flight leaves today. I’d hate for you to miss it.” She returns to her seat and takes a sip of her water. “I’m not paying for another one.”
Somehow, I blink back my tears and dismiss Juliette’s last words, then direct my attention to the shellshocked woman in front of me.
