Connor shook his head. “Where is Meredith?”
Wit nodded toward the yacht club. “Wink asked her to do him a favor, so she walked in with Claire—”
“Claire?” My gasp was embarrassing. “ClaireDupré?”
Why was I so invested in this?
“Yes…” Wit looked both confused and amused. “When did you meet my goddaughter?”
“She hasn’t,” Connor answered as I blushed. “But she’s heard the glowing reviews.”
“Ah,” Wit said. “Finn.” He took a sip of his coffee, keeping Claire’s feelings—or lack thereof—close to the vest. “What are you up to today?”
“Connor is taking me to an undisclosed location,” I said, then shrugged. “He’s kicking himself for forgetting the blindfold.”
Wit raised an intrigued eyebrow, and Connor waved him over to whisper in his ear. “Of course,” Wit said. “Because starting simple, with a lighthouse, is overrated.”
“Totally,” Connor agreed. “We should start with a cannonball.”
“Or a dive,” Wit cryptically quipped. “Maybe even a flip.”
“Whereare we going?” I asked, curiosity now coursing through my veins. A lighthouse—maybe Annie’s lighthouse—sounded perfectly good to me.
Connor popped open his center console and pulled out a classic red bandanna. “You’ll see not long after you put this on.”
* * *
With my sight gone, I focused on my other senses. The briny air whipping through my hair, the sun on my shoulders, and the Coldplay song pulsing through the Jeep’s speakers. Connor sang along, completely off-key, and every now and again, he flipped his blinker or stopped at a red light. “Oh, perfect!” he said at one point. “A spot!”
I reached to pull off my blindfold. “We’re here?”
“Not yet,” he told me. “You donotneed to see me parallel park…”
Three excruciatingly long minutes later, Connor cut the ignition and tugged off the bandanna. “I don’t know what your parking strategy is,” I said. “Because it didn’t feel like there was one, so you should try imagining your steering wheel as a pizza…”
Connor nodded, and nodded, and pleasantly nodded until I’d finished explaining how Erica—of all people—had taught me to parallel park. Then he smiled and said: “Look around, Olivia.”
I blinked to see that Connor had parked the Jeep in a longline of cars on the side of the road. Wetlands were on one side while the other looked out to sea, boats bobbing on the calm water. The vignette was beautiful, but what was so special about this place? Or cool enough that Connor ranked it as a sightseeing cannonball?
Equipped with beach towels, Connor and I ducked around the cars and started walking along the road’s shoulder, and up ahead…
My stomach plummeted, becauseup aheadwas what Erica had called the “Jaws Bridge.” We’d driven over it two days ago, on our way to the house. People had been practically pushing and shoving to launch themselves into the air, and today was no different. The bridge crawled with jumpers, at least twelve people balancing on the railing’s top rung. I saw two tween girls take the plunge holding hands, but even that cuteness didn’t buoy me.
“Hey.” Connor was suddenly in my face, wide-eyed and caring. I took a step backward; he was too close. “Are you—”
“Are we going to jump?” I asked, as if it were a question.
He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s tradition!”
“Have you done it before?”
Another nod. “My second day, with Teddy and Finn.”
“What?”
The brothers were so young!
“Oh, no—absolutely not,” Connor quickly reframed. “It was their idea to drive out here, but theywatchedme jump from the beach.”
