“He’s twenty-eight, I think,” Rebecca said, untying her apron and throwing it in the basin near the sink. “He moved here to paint and be a loner.” She laughed. “That’s what my friend ofa friend said. But I think the loneliness has gotten to him. He wants a companion.”
“Someone to watch him paint?” Lily joked.
Rebecca threw her head back, then winced and touched her neck. “Ouch. I have to stop laughing like that. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”
Lily hurried over and gave her mother a brief yet powerful shoulder massage.
“You’re the best, honey,” Rebecca said. “Thanks for filling in today.” She winced again and settled her head. “Oh, I meant to ask. How’s it going with wedding planning? Any update?”
“I’ll let you know when I have a more concrete idea,” Lily said.
Lily had googled “Nantucket wedding” and perused what felt like three hundred gorgeous, dreamy photos of other people’s perfect weddings. She’d tried to visualize what her and Liam’s wedding would be like but hadn’t been able to. Ultimately, she’d closed all her wedding tabs and thrown herself into visualizing who would suit Bex Shepherd as a romantic partner best. She’d reach out to potential Los Angeles-based candidates: “regular” people who weren’t, in any case, boring. She had a call scheduled with Bex for tomorrow evening, after Bex and Liam left set, during which she’d explain her process and give Bex a sense for the men she’d found so far.
Whenever Lily was “hunting” for matches for other people, she was shivery with excitement. She felt as though she were opening a door to a new reality for them.
“I’ll call the loner tomorrow.” Lily imagined a guy with long, straggly hair. Maybe he could fit a paintbrush into his tangled curls. Perhaps he’d forgotten it was there.
That night, after Lily and Rebecca returned home for much-deserved sleep, Lily tried to call Liam. It rang and rang across the continent, but he didn’t answer. For hours, she stayedawake, staring into the darkness over her bed and twirling her wedding band around and around her finger. Outside, a storm picked up, casting sand and water in all directions on the beach.
She missed the thrum of the city. She missed Liam beside her.
She missed knowing what was coming for her next.
Chapter Six
Summer 1995
It was impossible to say no to dinner and drinks with Akira. After a brief and scalding shower, during which her heart broke over and over again (she’d lost the Wimbledon Championship, after all, and she could never go back, could never redeem herself), Yoko changed into a sleek black dress, a pair of high-heeled shoes that didn’t show her banged-up tennis toes, and a light trench coat that, to her, fit the soft evenings in England. It was nothing like the summer heat back in Osaka. Afterward, she went to her parents’ hotel room to say goodbye. Tomorrow, they would explore London together and visit museums, eat strange English foods, and maybe drink beer at a classic English pub.
Her mother gave her that look again that saidI know what you’re up to.But Yoko couldn’t let her mother’s feelings about Akira dictate how Yoko acted.
“Be home soon,” her mother said in a tight Japanese voice, one that indicated her word was meant to be Yoko’s rule. “You must be exhausted. Come to our room before you go to sleep.”
Yoko blinked at her mother, remembering the early days, when her mother and father had discovered Yoko’s unique talent for tennis and decided to force her deeper and deeper into the game. As a girl, Yoko’s own mother had been a regional champion with tennis dreams of her own. Yoko’s mother had then transferred all of her dreams onto Yoko’s life, making Yoko feel, at times, suffocated. Now that she was an undeniable champion (in every sense save in Wimbledon), Yoko could only thank her mother for pushing her. She’d changed the trajectory of her life. But she couldn’t thank her for this, for trying to control her long after her eighteenth birthday. She was twenty-one, and she was going to do as she pleased, socially.
Even if it hurt her to see Akira like this.
As they’d arranged, Yoko took a cab to the restaurant where Akira had booked a table for three. When she approached, her chin raised, Yoko felt twenty-plus pairs of eyes on her. She heard her name and felt a spike of embarrassment. Probably almost everyone in the restaurant had been at the tennis match today. They’d watched her fall apart.
Akira and his girlfriend, Himari, were in a quiet conversation, murmuring and gesturing at the menu. When they realized she was near, they broke apart, as though she’d caught them doing something illicit. Akira stood, happily bowed to Yoko, then hugged her. “I’m glad you could shake off your parents,” he said.
Himari stood, bowed, and sat back down again. Her smile was pleasant and difficult to read.
“It’s surreal you came all this way to see me play,” Yoko said. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s wonderful to see a friendlyface.” She took a beat before adding, “And to meet your lovely girlfriend, of course.”
Akira ordered sake for the table and made a toast to Yoko’s career. When it was over, they sipped and focused on the menu, ordering everything they craved. Yoko was starving.
“Tell me everything you’ve been up to since I last saw you,” she ordered Akira. “And Himari, I’d love to know more about you.”
Akira explained that he’d been working on another film over the past few months and that things were moving in a powerful direction for him. “Quitting tennis was the best thing I could have done,” he said with a laugh. “I met Himari while working on my last film.”
“Are you a filmmaker as well?” Yoko asked.
“I’m an actress,” Himari said.
Yoko felt it like a sting in her chest—an actress. Of course, she was. Himari was beautiful enough to get paid to be photographed and filmed. Yoko wondered if Himari was faking her happiness at meeting Yoko. How could you ever trust an actress to be truthful? She pondered if Akira ever questioned Himari’s honesty.
“But we want to hear about you!” Akira said, his face opening like a window.
