“Grady told me once that I reminded him of a sunflower. So I thought … is it dumb?”
“Not at all.” Gillian squeezed my arm, her eyes bright. “He’s here. He came about twenty minutes ago.”
My stomach dropped. “Where?”
“I’m not sure. Last I saw him he was talking to Vance by the bar.”
“Go find him,” Alex said. “He asked about you earlier.”
Not yet ready to see Grady, I headed to my friends, who were gathered around the food table.
Seraphina, dressed as a flapper, pulled me into an embrace. “Your costume’s adorable. Did you make it?”
“Grady told me I reminded him of a sunflower, so yeah, I decided to surprise him.”
“That’s very romantic,” Seraphina said. “I approve.”
“I’m starting to wonder if this was such a great idea,” I said, holding up the fresh sunflower. “But I’m going to tell him how I feel and give him this.”
“It’s perfect,” Delphine said, dressed in an elegant black cat ensemble. “And you’re adorable.”
“You really are,” Lila said.
“Lila, you look stunning, but who are you supposed to be?” She wore a fitted ivory cocktail dress with a neckline that was about three inches bolder than anything I’d ever seen her wear, paired with gold heels. Her dark hair was down and swept to one side.
“Vance came as James Bond, so I’m his Bond girl,” Lila said. “I feel kind of embarrassed.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I said. “Good for you. Everyone should have a little glamor in their life, right?”
“I guess so,” Lila said.
Delphine’s gaze looked over my shoulder. I turned to look at what she saw. Dorian Flynn stood near the bookcase, running his fingers along the spines of books, bent over to read titles. He wore a cream fisherman’s sweater with the sleeves pushed up, a wool cap, and what looked like three days of deliberate stubble. Hemingway.
“That’s a good one,” I said.
“Yes, it is,” Delphine said. “And he makes a heck of a Hemingway.” She took another look, glancing sideways at him in a way that made me think the cat costume wasn’t the only thing making her curious tonight.
“I’m off to find Grady,” I said. “Pray for me.”
“You’ve got this,” Lila said.
I checked the living room, the kitchen and the bar where Vance was opening bottles of wine, dressed as James Bond, while talking to Hunter. He’d come as himself, apparently, but with a cowboy hat. No Grady.
“Outside,” Hunter said, catching my eye. He tilted his head toward the back doors. “He’s been out there for a few minutes.”
I walked through the kitchen to the French doors that opened onto the deck. The pool glowed turquoise, with string lights woven through the pergola. Beyond that was the dark expanse of the ocean, an almost full moon throwing silver light across the water.
And there he was. Standing at the railing, his back to me, looking out at the sea. Alone. But he didn’t look like himself. He was wearing a suit, dark and well-fitted and expensive looking. I’d never seen him in anything other than board shorts and flannels and the occasional clean T-shirt. And goodness, he looked good too. The breadth of his shoulders in that jacket and the way the moonlight caught the line of his jaw made my knees wobbly. And my heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. Suddenly, I could see him in his old life, negotiating deals, taking lunch meetings.
I pushed open the door and stepped out to the patio. The night air was cool and sharp, smelling of kelp and woodsmoke. Noise from the party fell away behind me, muffled by the glass. I took a step. The deck boards creaked under my sneakers.
He didn’t turn around.
I took another step. Then another. The sunflower trembled in my hand. I was six feet away from him. Five. Four.
“Grady,” I said.
18
