A few minutes later, she came back in, cheeks a little flushed, phone still in her hand.
“How’d it go?” Dylan asked.
She set the phone on the counter and let out a slow breath. “My mother is in processing mode. My father is in listening mode. That’s about as good as it gets over the phone.”
“They freaked?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she answered. “For now, they’re asking careful questions and pretending they’re not already planning ten meetings about this.”
“Did you tell them it’s both of us?” Dylan questioned.
Her fingers brushed the bracelet. “I told them there are two people in the picture, and I care about both of you. I promised them I’d explain everything when I get to D.C. in two weeks for another gala.”
“That works,” I replied. “Our parents know it’s both of us now. Tyler knows too.”
Her shoulders loosened a little. “Okay. I should probably tell Fallon.” She started typing on her phone. “Done. I’ll deal with his reply when he responds, but everyone else can chill for a while.”
Dylan nodded. “Speaking of chilling, we should go to the beach or the pool. We can stuff our faces with all the food we still have, and tomorrow we deal with what’s coming.”
She stepped between us, her hands lifting to the back of our necks. “I vote we stop talking and use what time we have left for fun things.”
“Works for me,” Dylan replied.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m all in on that.”
The next morning came quickly.
Faye fought with her suitcase until Dylan and I leaned on it so she could drag the zipper around. I checked the drawers and the bathroom for anything we might’ve left behind. The villa felt empty without our stuff scattered everywhere.
By the time the taxi we’d ordered pulled up in front, our bags were packed, but we weren’t ready to say goodbye.
“Last chance to fake a storm,” Dylan commented as we loaded the luggage.
“I don’t think my dad controls the weather,” Faye replied.
“Yet,” he answered.
She paused. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who think the government actually controls the weather?”
“Naw, Princess. I’m not brainwashed; I’m just teasing you.”
She managed a small smile and climbed into the backseat, and we flanked her. Once we were situated, her hand slid into mine. She took Dylan’s with her other hand and held on for the entire ride to the dock.
The ferry was crowded with sunburned tourists and kids complaining about having to leave. We found an empty row of seats.
Faye’s cap was pulled low, her sunglasses on.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“No,” she answered. “Trying not to be dramatic in public, though.”
“We can be dramatic for you,” Dylan offered. “Pretty sure I can cry on command if I think hard enough about rookie hazing.”
A short laugh escaped her. “You’re a menace.”
The island behind us grew smaller, just a strip of green and sand and roofs along the water. The one ahead was busier, with more buildings stacked up the hill, cruise ships in the harbor, and cars already moving along the road by the dock.
Once off the boat, we grabbed another cab and headed to the airport. When we arrived at departures, we checked our bags, then TSA. By the time we got through security, my chest was hurting from what was coming.
