Page 39

I pause mid-bite. Who the fuck is Adam?

“Thanks again for a nice evening,” Amelia says.

The screen door creaks open, and a pair of footfalls cross the porch and pad down the stairs. The sound of the ladies’ chatting fades.

In my mind, Tina stands at the door waving. Farther away, the Jeep’s engine rumbles. The car backs out of the gravel driveway, and a horn honks twice. The screen door snaps shut.

“Who’s Adam?” I call out from the floor as I lick my fingers clean.

Tina presses a shoulder on the door frame and takes me in with the concerned eyes.

“Did you kiss her yet?” she asks.

“Don’t change the subject,” I say, feeling cranky. “Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first.” She digs a hand into her hip.

Feeling petulant, I refuse and jam the last cookie in my mouth.

Tina rolls her eyes and walks away, her Scott slippers scuffing the floor.

I scramble to stand and follow her. She’s busy in the kitchen, stacking clean plates, then gathering silverware and neatly placing them in the utensil drawer. I do the same, following her lead.

“What did you do?” I ask.

Something is up with this Adam, whoever he is. I can feel it.

Giving Tina the side-eye, I say, “I don’t have the time to save Sophia every time you send her on a crazy journey. I know you’re responsible for today’s mountaintop misadventures.”

“Sophia is trying to find an old flame.” Tina presses her lips tight.

I freeze, even though my face heats to the temperature of lava. It could be a sugar overload, or it could be jealousy. I’m sticking with the sugar theory.

“What’s his last name?” I ask, trying to sound unconcerned, but my voice sounds unnatural and jittery.

Tina doesn’t answer, only continues packing leftovers and placing them in the refrigerator.

In her silence, I make a quick list. I know several Adams on the island. A handful of them have had a foot in the grave for a decade, the youngest is sitting on the floor near my feet picking his nose, and of the others who are Sophia’s age, one is married, and the other lives on the ninth island in Las Vegas. The last one? Well, I refuse to acknowledge that motherfucker.

Tina moves to load the dishwasher. She won’t give me what I want until I give her what she wants. That’s the way she works.

“I kissed her! You happy?” I toss my hands in the air.

Tina bends down, lifts the dishwasher door, and closes it until it snaps tight. Then her gaze meets mine. One hand returns to her hip.

“Maybe don’t be so aggressive next time.” She winks.

I project a displeased glare. Of course she was listening.

She pats me on the shoulder as she passes and continues her clean-up tour.

Tina may have already known, but she wanted to hear me say it. This way, she can watch me fidget because I don’t know where to put my hands when Sophia isn’t in them. I slide them into my pockets and do my best to keep them there.

“The name!” I bellow as I follow her.

Tina stops and looks to the ceiling like she’s saying a silent prayer.

The sight of it makes me halt in my tracks. Because now I know what name she’s going to say. I don’t even need to hear it because it’s emblazoned in my own mind. It has been for years.