“Why would we do that? I don’t think you’d like island living.”
I sigh. “We could be spending our days barefoot and half-drunk in a cabana.”
“Would you settle for half-drunk at a country club?”
“With golf?”
“With golf.”
“That’s nothing like a cabana.” I laugh.
Beau reaches for my hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. “Islands get shitty Wi-Fi, and you’d miss Nora too much.”
I know he’s right. I wouldn’t last one week on an island without Nora. But I can’t tell her about the 310 number either. She believes Beau and I are this golden couple. And after she lost her husband, letting her imagine Beau and I have never known drama or mess is an act of mercy.
I’m about to suggest we bring Nora with us to the island as we reach the entrance of Lemon & Fig. The restaurant is already packed, the buzz of conversations drifting through the door. The faint air of old money and new veneers is unmistakable.
“You ready to face your adoring crowds?” Beau asks cheekily; then he reaches into his pocket and offers me his weed pen. “Want some?”
A snort slips out of my mouth. “Who’s the reprobate now?” I shake my head at the proffered THC. “If I had told you six years ago that your idea of a good time would be getting high with me, what would you have said?”
“I’d have said I must have done something right.”
“You don’t miss being a shark?”
His head pulls back, slow and cool. “Who says I’m not a shark.” One side of his mouth curls upward. “Sharks can retire.”
“That’s not how sharks work, actually.” I raise a finger. “They have to keep swimming, or they’ll die. They’re a keystone species, Beau.”
“Is that why you’re always chasing some freelance mischief or another? Because you’re a shark, too?”
He means it as a compliment. He doesn’t know I’m still reeling from the resurgence of my past life. “I wanted to be a shark, but I was harpooned,” I mutter.
He pulls me close, holding me against his chest to soothe the sting, and I can hear his breath rise in his chest as he says, “We don’t have time to debate marine biology. We’re needed inside.”
I stick my tongue out, and he laughs.
“You’re my favorite view. Every time.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and warmth spreads through me.
Swoon.
His arms around me are the shield I’m going to need as I brace myself for what I know will be waiting inside.
After we tracked down Will’s killer last year, we learned that Fritz and Gianna Hall getting tossed in jail for their crimes created a kind of power vacuum that demanded to be filled. Somehow being at the center of the scandal meant Nora, Beau, and I were catapulted to the top of the social food chain.
Nora and I used to be on the fringes, but now, we’re…beloved.People want to talk to us, invite us places, share their life updates. Which might be enjoyable, except that too many of the social interactions that go on around here are performative.
Everything’s so polished and curated, like we live behind some kind of TikTok filter.
People take notice when we walk into almost any room. Which is why my pace slows when we step through the front door of Marcus’s restaurant. I spot Carol Parker and her husband, Art, and I can almost hear his arthritic joints cracking as he offers his elbow to Carol. She smiles, clutching her glass of chardonnay.
Beau flashes a conspiratorial grin. “Want me to call her over?”
Not feeling up for a fight with the call from California still buzzing under my skin, I force a shrug. “And ruin the element of surprise? Why would you do that? Let her find me. If she knows, she’ll still be mad an hour from now.”
“At least she’s consistent. And isn’t it nice to know there are some things in life you can count on?” He jerks his chin in the direction of the party.
“I’m going to go say hi to Marcus before she notices me,” I whisper to Beau, slipping behind a crowd before he can stop me. I’ve stuffed my California phobias into a neat little box, yes. But I need another minute to get my bearings.
