likes dogs
one of four siblings
works in banking
“What the fuck?” Jones breathed, scrolling down to the page below. “This was in that room? At the farmhouse?”
I nodded.
“What thefuck?” he said again. “What does it mean? Why…are they obsessed with Charlie Joneses?”
“A Charlie Jones fetish is currently my top explanation,” I said. I wasn’t even joking. “They didn’t contactyou, did they, about the job? Like how they recruit people forLove Islandfrom TikTok?”
“What? No, I just…” He looked back down at the list on my phone, his brow furrowed. “I never spoke to Rosie or Marly before we came to the island.”
“Well, me neither.”
“But they knew who we were,” he said slowly, and then paused. “Except they didn’t. I’m not on here. You’re not on here, either.”
“Nope.”
He kept flicking through the pictures, searching each page in turn.
“What does it all mean?” He rubbed his eyes as he handed my phone back.
I tucked my feet underneath me. “You know those big dog gatherings they do? Five hundred cocker spaniels all in one place?”
He started laughing. “That, but for Charlie Joneses?”
“Right. There are four hundred and ninety-eight more of us on this island right now, waiting for the big meet-up.”
Was still close to him from leaning on his shoulder. Our knees were touching, our bodies turned toward each other. It was lovely—too lovely, dangerously lovely—but the anxiety was still roiling in my stomach, and it wasn’t just the business with the farmhouse and the shop. The more I get to know Jones—the more I fall for him, if I’m truly honest with myself—the more I find myself coming back to that question of my intentions.
When I arrived here, my intention was to start a new life. It was nothing to do with anybody else, I reasoned—it wasmineand my future child’s, and any truths I decided not to share wouldn’t hurt anybody. They were just part of the fresh start. Nobody here had arightto know about who I was before I got here, except Marly and Rosie, but as long as I’m doing a great job at the farm shop, I can keep the guilt about that at bay.
But the closer I get to people—to Jones—the harder it becomes to say that my intentions are entirely positive. If I’m being truthful, I’m now hiding parts of myself because I’m afraid of how everyone will feel about me if they find out the truth.
“Shall we have one of your honey and chamomile teas?” Jones asked. “Forget about the whole weird situation for a while? I don’t want to talk about it if it’s making you feel more anxious.”
He gave me the ghost of a smile, eyes crinkling, and my whole body warmed in response. Reminded myself very sternly that I didn’t come to this island for the tingly, glowy feeling I get when Jones smiles at me—I came to this island determined to leave men aside.
Just hadn’t counted on a man like this one.
“It might be nice to talk about something else for a while,” I said. “Mostly because we can’t do much about this, can we? We can’t ask Rosie or Marly without confessing that I went poking around in their guest room.”
“When you first turned up here, I would never have thought you had that in you.”
