“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“We look forward to welcoming you,” she replies.
When I return to the kitchen to tell Gabriel and Scarlett, the first thing I hear as I near the end of the hallway is furious whispering. Is Gabriel trying to convince Scarlett to stop me, like he did when they were on the beach?
I remain out of sight behind the wall, listening.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Scarlett’s voice carries over to me, tight with strain. “She’ll eventually find out. She deserves to know, Gabriel. When I came on this trip, I made myself a promise that I will tell her. What if she finds her and?—?”
“It will destroy her,” Gabriel hisses. “You can’t?—”
I step around the corner. “Can’t what?” I look from one to the other.
They freeze like guilty children, Gabriel’s hand suspended mid-gesture.
“What exactly is going to destroy me?” My voice sounds hollow in my own ears. “What don’t I know?”
Scarlett’s face crumples, her shoulders curving inward. Tears spill over, her chest heaving with uneven gasps.
“Scarlett?” I’m at her side before I can think, my anger momentarily forgotten. Her hand trembles beneath mine.
She lifts her head, tears catching the light. “There’s something I’ve kept from you.” Her voice breaks. “And when I tell you, you’ll never forgive me.”
NINETEEN
SCARLETT
Six Months Ago
One of the counselors leads me down a narrow wooden walkway that curves gently through tall grasses and low-hanging branches. Then the door opens onto a space that looks like it belongs in a luxury eco-resort.
The walls are paneled in pale wood, which looks smooth and warm to the touch. A large bed sits against the far wall, covered in crisp white linen and layered with throws in muted greens and sandy browns.
On the walls, framed photos of forests and coastlines hang in simple wooden frames, and there’s a woven rug under my feet. I inhale the scent of eucalyptus and citrus that lingers in the air as I stare through a large window that looks out toward the trees, and far beyond them, I notice a sliver of ocean glinting in the late afternoon light.
“This will be your room for the week, Mrs. Grant,” the woman announces pleasantly. “Dinner is at seven. Orientation for our new guests starts in an hour, and you are allowed to observe.”
“Thank you.” I’m genuinely impressed.
She smiles before stepping out of the room and leaving me alone.
I set my bag down on the bed and take a slow look around, letting the calm of the room sink into my bones. My shoulders start to loosen, and the tight knot I’ve been carrying since being told I would be separated from Sadie eases a little.
Maybe this place really is what they promised and I should just relax.
Before orientation, I unpack just enough to feel like I belong here, at least for a while.
I hang my cardigans in the small wardrobe, line my toiletries neatly beside the stone sink, smooth the already-perfect bedspread with my palms.
Glancing at my phone on the bedside table, I feel its magnetic pull. I step across the room toward it, but I hesitate before picking it up.
I don’thaveto message Matt anymore.
The divorce was finalized last week.
Matt and I are still living in the same house until I can find something small and affordable, so I don’t have to blow through my settlement and savings.
But living together when we are no longer a couple is unbearable. Going from sleeping in the same bed to being nothing but roommates who barely speak is torture.
