He picks up the remote control and flips to another picture. It shows the side view of the house, complete with silky sand dunes, spiky marram grass, and the foamy surf of the Atlantic.
He’s got to be kidding.
If I’d created a house for our weekend, I couldn’t have imagined a better one.
I step back from the screen to take in the entire image. “Do you have more pictures?”
He doesn’t say anything, just clicks his remote. The picture changes to an image of the porch, which overlooks the water. Mahogany floor, the Star-Spangled Banner, and a porch swing, all surrounded by white hydrangeas. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I slump back onto the sofa and cover my face with my hands. I can’t stop the tide of emotion welling up in me right now. This house is better than perfect. It’s more than Katherine or any of her friends would ever expect.
“If this is a joke, I’m going to kill you.” My voice breaks on my threat.
“God, Lucy, are you okay?” Hunter asks. The couch dips as he scoots closer to me. He rests a hand awkwardly on my arm.
“I can’t believe it,” I say, turning to look at him. Concern fills his bright-blue eyes, and he doesn’t look away. “Thank you,” I say, my voice soft. “This means everything.”
He grabs my drink from the table and pushes it into my hand. I take a small sip and start to feel a bit better. Energy seeps into my limbs, and my breathing comes easier. It feels like I’m recovering from some kind of endurance test, like I’ve been stranded on an island and finally rescued or just passed the finish line after a twenty-six-mile run. It’s relief and gratitude and sheer exhaustion, all mixed up in one.
“Martha’s Vineyard will work?” he asks hopefully.
“Absolutely,” I say, sliding my glass back onto the coffee table. “It’s better than the Cape. More of an adventure to get there. More exclusive. More memorable.” And then I realize that all my planning has been around the Cape and not the Vineyard. I’ll have to go back to the drawing board. We don’t want to waste time going back and forth on the ferry.
“I thought we could even look at getting a helicopter to save time if that’s an issue,” he says.
I hold Hunter’s gaze. He’s completely serious. He’s thought this through. He cares. And it feels so nice not to be on my own with the burden of planning this weekend.
“Wow,” I say. “We should definitely consider it. And fishing. I presume there’s fishing around there?”
Hunter shrugs. “I’ve had a hell of a week. I haven’t finalized every detail.” A smile curls at the corner of his lips. “But I’m thinking we’ll be able to find something.”
“Yeah, there’s bound to be something, even if you have to get a boat from Hyannis to come and get you.”
“Right.”
“Right,” I reply. We hold each other’s gazes for a second. I don’t know how to convey how grateful I am. How relieved.
“I hadn’t grasped quite how important this is to you,” he says, like everything fits into place for him now.
“It is important,” I say.
He nods resolutely. “It’s going to be great.”
My breath hitches in my chest. I really think it is.
He glances to the Bankers Box. “Want to tell me what’s in the box?” he asks. “I’m slightly concerned you’ve got all the equipment needed to murder me and get rid of the evidence.”
I can’t stop my smile at his comment. It feels like a long time since I’ve genuinely smiled when it comes to this wedding, even if we are talking about me being a murderer.
“I’m not sure any of it’s relevant now,” I say.
“Because you’ve changed your mind about my imminent death?”
I narrow my eyes as if I’m considering whether I’ll still murder him. “It’s mostly stuff about the Cape. I think we should stick to activities on Martha’s Vineyard.”
“But what, exactly, is in here?”
I flip open the lid to reveal the papers, printouts, and brochures I’ve accumulated since Ed and Katherine got engaged.
