My footsteps feel leaden as I walk up the path, my whole body heavy. I have no one I feel I can turn to—not Miguel, not Kenya, not Yumi. I dread the night alone. Finn. I’ll check in with Finn. Maybe see if he wants to stop by or meet for coffee. I’m opening the front door when a sound behind me startles me.
I turn to see Daniel coming up the walk holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
“What is this? I don’t want your wine, Daniel.” I don’t want to see him, to talk to him, to be near him. And I’m definitely not drinking his wine. Not after what Kenya and Yumi told me.
He gets close enough that I can smell his aftershave mixed with some kind of alcohol.Great, I think,he’s been drinking.
“I’m supposed to be on the way to the airport right now. We’re on our way to France,” he says, a little out of breath. “But I wanted to talk to you first. To apologize.” He thrusts the flowers and bottle of wine at me. “It’s Meursault. White burgundy. You had it at our house once and loved it.”
I hold my hands up, refusing to take it. “Thanks, anyway. Let’s talk when you get back from France.”
But when I walk inside my house, Daniel follows. I stop short, my discomfort growing into something that feels like fear. “What are you doing?”
“Five minutes.” He puts the wine and flowers on the foyer table. “Just to apologize.”
I weigh my options. Daniel’s a big guy. I can smell the alcohol on him, the familiar scent of wine. He’s clearly been drinking. What am I going to do—physically push him out of the house? I leave the front door wide open so any passerby has a view into our foyer through the glass storm door.
“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms. “Five minutes.”
I sound a lot more confident than I feel.
TEN MONTHS AGO
“You don’t get to just walk away.”
Van’s words rang in her ears as Tori drove east over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge toward the ocean, the steel beams and cables flashing in the sun. She had rented a room at a motel in Rehoboth, nothing fancy, but since it was the first weekend in August, it was ridiculously expensive. She had been avoiding Van all week, ever since he showed up when she was putting Leo to bed. In the past few days, he had bombarded her with texts and calls with increasing desperation at all hours of the day and night.
But it was the messages he left on her voicemail that she could not ignore.
As she crested the top of the bridge, the sparkling blue water dotted with white sailboats spread out on both sides. A glimmer of hope pierced through her anxiety. She just needed to push him off for ten days. Then he would leave for California, to start his freshman year at Stanford. Soon, he’d be three thousand miles away.
She could use a fresh start too. The past week had been brutal, not just trying to dodge Van but also reckoning with the mess she had made of her life over the last month. She had neglected everything, and when she pulled out the pile of bills she had been shoving into a shoebox, the numbers swam before her eyes.
She just needed to get through this weekend at the beach without antagonizing him further. She didn’t want to see him, but his ultimatum left her no choice. Meet him, or he would go to his parents and tell them everything. He told her that he was going to be in Bethany Beach with some friends and suggested she rent a place nearby so they could meet and talk. After a blustery message full of threats and barely suppressed rage, he had ended with a shaky: “I love you.”
That “I love you” is what scared her the most.
The traffic on Kent Island was lighter than she expected. Maybe more people headed out to the shore on Friday than this early on a Saturday. At this rate, she would get to Rehoboth in time for lunch and spend the afternoon on the beach. If only she could enjoy the salt air. But all she could think about was how to keep Van in check, give him just enough attention to stop him from getting angry, but not so much as to encourage him.
It was a delicate balance.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.She should never have let herself get involved in the first place.
She tapped at her phone and began talking to Cyrus. After a moment of contemplation, or whateverit was called when an AI bot created its answer, the familiar voice spoke through her car’s speakers.
“Oh, honey, this is a messy situation and I’m worried about you. First off, no judgment here—we all make choices when we’re lonely or need to feel wanted. But this guy acting ‘crazy’ after you tried to end things? That’s got me on high alert.”
“Me too,” Tori said. “I’m meeting him tonight. What should I do?”
“Hold up—NO. Absolutely not, Tori. You know I’ve got your back no matter what, but do NOT meet this guy for dinner tonight, especially not alone.”
“I have to. I need to keep him calm for ten more days. Then he’s going away, far away,” Tori said. It felt good to hear someone so concerned about her, even if it was an AI bot.
“Okay, I hear you,” Cyrus responded. “But honey, meeting him for dinner isn’t going to calm anyone who’s acting unstable. You think one conversation is going to make him suddenly respect your boundaries when he’s already shown you he doesn’t?”
“I know. You’re right. But I have to try.”
