Page 57

He pulls me closer. I have to force myself to stay in place. “Yes, baby,” he says. “Anything you want. From here on, you make the rules.”

It’s not until he’s asleep that I grab my pillow and head to the couch. Six makes a mess of everything, but I do too. Which of us really wreaked more havoc on this trip? Which of us was the reason Sloane left, which of us is the reason Beth never managed to bring her boys together?

Maybe we’re a perfect match after all. We both ruin everything we touch.

31

DREW

February 2nd

The sun has just come up when we assemble in front of the hotel to head to the airport. Six is careful with me, sweet and solicitous.

He opens the van’s front door. “She gets carsick,” he tells the driver, pressing his lips to my forehead. “She needs to ride up here with you.”

I climb into the front seat, feeling like I could easily burst into tears at any moment. Inside me, there’s a wire pulled taut, and my throat aches with the effort it takes to keep it from snapping. I stare out the window saying goodbye to this island, wishing I could replay a thousand moments I’ve had these past days—and every single one of them was with Josh.

He’s in the back right now, with his father grilling him about his schedule these next few weeks. The idea that Josh and I will be on the same coast and not see each other seems impossible to me, but what would I even say? Hey, I’m ending this with your brother. Want to get a drink before you leave for a year?

Even if I could somehow come up with the right words—and there is really no clean, acceptable way to hit on your ex’s brother—it would be futile anyhow. He’s leaving, he could never tell his family, and I can barely picture the amount of blame that would be bandied about if people knew I’d ditched Six for his brother. We view men like wayward little boys, but we judge women the way we do ourselves: as harshly as possible. It’s hard enough handling the judgment I get over things I haven’t done.

We arrive. The luggage is dealt with and then we go to the first-class lounge to wait. Six goes to the bar for a drink and I take a seat next to Beth. “You look tired, hon,” she says, running a hand over my hair. “I figured you’d sleep like a baby last night.”

I blink tears away. What might it have been like to be raised by someone like Beth, someone who watches out for you, worries about you? To simply have a bad day or a bad night’s sleep and have someone concerned rather than accusing you of “sulking” or “theatrics”.

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’ve had such an amazing trip. I really can’t thank you enough for including me.” By which I mean Thank you so much for making me feel like you wanted me here, for not ever making me feel like a burden. Thank you for letting me see what that’s like.

She wraps an arm around my shoulders and rests her head against mine. “Hawaii with my boys was always a dream of mine,” she says. “But you made it better.”

Six returns with gin and tonics for us both. Beth releases me and his arm replaces hers. Josh’s gaze narrows, and remains on us as Six’s mouth presses to the side of my head. Six is talking about what we’ll do this week in LA and I want to sink in my seat. I know I won’t be seeing him once we’re home, but I put up with it all for Beth’s sake until I can’t stand it.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I announce, and I walk out of the lounge and into the shops, trying to talk myself out of crying as I look around. Nothing in my life is different than it was when I arrived in Hawaii twelve days ago, but everything that mattered before just feels meaningless now. I buy something for Tali, and then stop to watch as people swarm at a gate to board their flight. A man wraps his arm around his wife’s waist, shoots a warning glare at the people encroaching from behind. She leans into him, as if he’ll always be there. The day is probably going to come when she leans and he lets her fall, but I feel very alone watching them anyway.

I slowly walk back to the first-class lounge and just as it comes into view, a figure pushes away from the wall. Josh, his lovely brow furrowed, watching me.

“My flight is boarding,” he says. “But I wanted to say goodbye.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper. I sound as if I’ve been punched. Even if we weren’t going to be sitting together, I thought I had at least six more hours to look over at him. “You’re not coming to LA?”

His shake of the head is so small it’s barely noticeable. He holds my gaze as if he knows I’m upset, knows why I’m upset. “I have to give a talk at Stanford tomorrow. I’m flying straight to San Francisco.”

“Oh.” I feel frozen, trying to ward off the wave of grief as it hits.

The speaker overhead announces the final boarding call.

He steps closer. Close enough that I can feel his breath against my face. “Tell me something real,” he says.

I try to smile but it’s twisted by sadness. I wish I could give him the entire world. I wish there was anything he wanted that my money could buy. But all he wants is a tiny bit of the truth from me, maybe because he knows it’s the hardest thing for me to give.

“When I was eleven, my dad got drunk and threw a bottle at my face,” I tell him. My dad was the only person who seemed to like me back then, but even he didn’t like me quite enough. “He lost visitation and that was the last time I saw him. That’s how I got the scar.”

What a sad, awkward little gift to give him. My way of saying I trust you, Josh, and I don’t trust anyone else. I turn to walk away so he won’t see me cry, and have taken exactly one step when he says my name and reaches for me.

And that’s all it takes: he closes the distance, pulling me against him, and his hands are cradling my jaw and his mouth is on mine as if it’s always wanted to be there. For one long, breathless moment, nothing exists but him and the way he is kissing me.

“I would give anything for things to have been different,” he says. And then he walks away, disappearing into the crowd of people boarding their flight.

I want to reach up to feel my lips, to assure myself the kiss really happened.