Outside, the sun is setting over the horizon, and there’s a gentle breeze in the air.
“Vera!” Sloane calls, and while I’m confident Vera has no idea her name is Vera, she appears at the edge of the deck. I watch as Sloane pulls the lid off the container and sets it on the deck near where the little puffin is standing. “Lucky girl,” she coos.
Sloane crouches beside the container, waiting patiently for Vera to approach on her own terms.
Most people couldn’t tolerate ten seconds of silence. Sloane seems content to let the puffin make up her own mind. Her face lights up when Vera takes the first bite.
I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You definitely need a pet,” I say. “Your parents didn’t let you have one growing up?”
“My dad wasn’t part of my life. And as a single mother, Mom said pets were too expensive and demanding. Then she got sick,and…” Sloane shrugged. “I lived with my Aunt Lisa for a while after she passed, and Lisa’s allergic to everything.”
“How old were you when you lost your mom?” I ask.
“Old enough to know what it felt like to have a real family, even if my dad wasn’t around.”
We watch Vera together, zestfully enjoying her dinner.
“I guess I was chasing that again,” Sloane says. “The Fordham family seemed like such a solid unit when I first met them. Weekly family dinners, vacations together every summer and at Christmas. They had keys to each other’s houses. I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the appeal with Jack. Belonging to a tight-knit group. But they seemed to care more aboutappearingto be close than actually enjoying time together.”
“Have you contacted him yet?” I ask. “Jack?”
Sloane shakes her head. I can tell she’s ashamed. “He sent some legal documents to my email cancelling the pre-nup. Kerry-Anne let him know I’m okay. I’ll call him in a few days. I’m still just trying to figure out what to say. The thing is…” She trails off and turns to the water, something I’ve noticed her doing when it seems she needs grounding. I get it. “There’s not much to say other than it wasn’t going to work out.”
“Then maybe that’s all you have to say.”
Sloane nods. “I feel more like myself this week than I have in a long time. I feel kind of guilty for that.”
“I get it,” I say. “But you don’t need to feel that way. You made the right call.”
“Thank you,” she says. “You’re a good listener.” Something passes between us. I want to kiss her. The realization hits me like a brick. It’s not just that she’s beautiful, with the last of the light flickering in her eyes and her soft hair floating in the breeze. Sloane is light-hearted. Thoughtful. Spontaneous. Smart. She fits right in here, on the beach. In my home. In my life…
But she’s leaving soon, and she has other things to deal with.
I clear my throat. “Well, seems like someone liked her dinner,” I say. The container is empty and Vera’s already waddling away to the path behind the house. “Shall we go inside?”
Sloane nods, and she’s looking at me now like she has more to say.
I want to tell her we can talk more. I want to tell her about my family, who she’s going to meet in two days. But this feeling, I don’t know if I can trust it.
So we go inside.
“We should probably talk through a few details in case people ask questions at the wedding,” Sloane says.
Thankfully, now that I’m bringing a date to the wedding, I’ve decided I can sit out the rehearsal dinner. My mother is thrilled to hear about my plus-one.Can’t wait to meet the mystery woman, she texted after I updated my RSVP. Word travels fast in this town, and extra fast in my family.
We decide that we met at a conference. It’s long-distance for now, but we’re going to see how things go. We cross our fingers and hope that Delia will have forgotten the name Katie, and that Sloane can just be Sloane. One less detail to keep track of.
Before we each retreat to our rooms that night, there’s a moment when it feels like Sloane has something more she wants to say. And there’s definitely more that I want to do. I’m suddenly not dreading the wedding anymore, even though I have to remind myself that this thing between us is pure convenience. I saw on the news that the road to the highway reopened yesterday, so technically, Sloane could have already left, but I appreciate her following through on her end of the deal.
We haven’t talked about her leaving after the wedding.
I can’t tell her this, but I’m beginning to rather she didn’t.
***
As soon as the morning fog burns off, the sky turns cerulean, with just a few faint streaks of clouds lingering in the distance.
We’re supposed to leave at five-thirty for the wedding, just enough time to park and mingle a little before the ceremony starts, but not enough for my nosy family or friends to start interrogating me and poking holes in the story Sloane and I hammered out.
