“I have to get going,” I say, standing. Mia Galliano is waiting for me. Last night, I asked her to fill in when Julia canceled. Not exactly a date, like I’d told Alison, but Mia will be a great reminder that it’s a work event.
“Okay.” Rhett crosses his arms. “Eye on the prize, Blackwood.”
“Always.” I grab my keys from the hook. Grey gets up and follows me out to the garage. I climb into the Rover and lower the window.
“She’s totally different?” he says, propping his arms on the car.
He wants me to elaborate, but what is there to say? I have no idea what I’m dealing with. I’ve just discovered a new continent. I need some time to get my bearings.
“Okay,” Grey nods. He runs a hand over his forearm. He has full sleeves on both arms. On his left forearm, he has a smaller version of the tattoo on my shoulder. He got it for me. For Chloe. As a tribute.
I know he’s working up the guts to say something else. I wait, hoping he’ll tell me what happened between him and Mom.
“I sang last night.”
“You what?”
“I sang at the club last night. It just happened by accident. I’ve been hanging out with these guys in a band. Their front man had to go to the hospital yesterday morning for his appendix? It ruptured or something nasty like that, so they called me. They didn’t want to cancel, so I took his place. I only knew a few of their songs, and the rest were covers, but . . .” He shrugs. “I sang.”
It takes me a minute to absorb this. He hasn’t done anything besides surf and party since he moved out here in August, so hearing this stirs something inside me that feels a lot like relief.
I try to imagine it. My little brother with a microphone in his hands. Stage lights. A band behind him. It’s surprisingly easy to picture, but I’ve never actually heard him sing. Not even in the car or around the house.
“I didn’t even know you could do that.”
“Neither did I until I got up on stage.” He smiles. “I almost puked I was so nervous.”
“But it was good?”
“Yeah. Adam, it was . . . amazing. They asked me to do it again.”
I hesitate, because I know this is the million-dollar question. Whether he’ll actually lock into it. Grey’s not like me. I go full throttle on everything. No matter what it is, I strive to be the best. But he’s choosy. Few things in this world draw out the best of him. Few things stick. “Will you?”
He pats the car twice and steps back. “You should go.”
I spend half the drive to Mia’s thinking of Grey as a lead singer. The second half, I spend thinking of all the ways Alison is totally different.
How is that possible? I’ve only known the girl a week. Granted, we got a jump on things at the Gallianos, but . . . how?
Man. It’s been such a long time since a girl’s been on my mind like this.
Such a long fucking time since I’ve felt this.
I don’t want it.
Chapter 13
Alison
It’s 11 a.m., and my mom’s on Bloody Mary number three. Which isn’t like her and which does little for her balance as Weston, one of the two people crewing the Ali Cat, helps her from dock to deck.
The day is warm, with a light Santa Ana wind blowing in from the northeast to chase away a wispy fog. But my mother’s bundled up as though preparing to spear polar bears in the tundra. Which is funny because Vivian Quick knows how to dress—how to behave—for literally every occasion. It’s like she has a Social Perfection flowchart stored in her brain. Get her on a boat, though, and she’s always a step away from a third-degree sunburn or a first-degree disaster of some kind. It’s a little unnerving, given how placid and even-keeled she usually is.
“I’m going to call Catherine before we’re out of cell phone range,” she tells me.
“Tell her to get her ass here for a visit,” Dad says. But we all know that won’t happen. My sister is busy with her perfect life in Dallas. It’s a miracle if I can get her to return a text.
I find myself wondering what Adam will think of my parents. I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter. But watching my mother weave off to the galley makes me feel anxious and vulnerable, like someone’s peeled away a few layers of my skin to expose all my nerves.
I guess that someone is Adam. I shouldn’t want him as much as I do. I shouldn’t want this deal to go through so I’ll have an excuse to see more of him. I should want it for the family, to prove to my father that I’m capable of taking the helm. Not because some fanciful recess of my mind wants a replay of Halloween night, when our bodies fit together like two pieces of a whole, when his body, his strong, warm hands, his smile, and the depth beneath all of it drove me to a place I’d never been before, made me feel wild and so absolutely, perfectly, right.
My father leaps aboard and gives Weston a slap on the back that practically sends him into the ocean. “Looking good,” he pronounces after casting a sharp-eyed gaze around the deck. The sleek lines of reddish teak and white fiberglass gleam in the sunlight. Every surface glitters; every cushion and container fits perfectly in place.
As always, I feel the anticipation of movement, the power of the engines rumbling beneath my canvas boat shoes. Right away, I perch on a chair to pull them off so I can run my bare feet over the sun-warmed wooden deck. I love that feeling.
Usually, I’d be in the kitchen, helping Sandra, Weston’s wife, prepare snacks or blend up pitchers of frothy daiquiris. Or I’d be in the tiny cavelike game room, pulling waterlogged paperbacks from the shelves to curl up with when I get tired of snorkeling. But today, I’m meant to be front and center to await our guests. Adam and some girl. Julia.
I get why he’s bringing her. To remind us both that this is business, a social exchange between two potential partners. I thought of bringing someone too, as I said I might do, but my father nixed that, told me to keep focused on Adam, on business.
God, won’t this be fun?
“Supposed to be choppy out there,” my father says, plopping down next to me. “Can’t wait to watch your mother handle six-foot swells. Especially if she keeps going the way she is.”
“You might not want to go that way yourself,” I say, glancing down at the tumbler filled with ice and bourbon in his hands.
He grins and lifts it to his lips. The ice clinks against his teeth, and the sound makes my shoulders tense.
“Don’t worry. I won’t get sloppy. Trust me.”
That phrase: Trust me. Especially from him. I can’t think about that. I want to trust. And I want to be someone who never damaged another person’s trust.
I get up, needing to expel my nervous energy, and go in search of something to do while I wait. At this point, I’d swim under the boat to scrape barnacles off the hull if it meant fast-forwarding through the awkward face-to-face with Adam’s date, the stilted introductions, the casting off into a day where every hour will feel like it’s made of six thousand minutes.
I’m about to head down the stairs to the accommodations deck in search of sunscreen, when my father gives a sharp whistle.
“They’re here,” he says. “Look alive, Alison.”
My stomach does a hard tumble when I follow his gaze down the long dock to see Adam coming toward us. It’s not him, though, not this time. It’s the girl walking beside him.
Not some mystery date but Mia.
He’s brought Mia with him. To join us on my parents’ boat, for an entire day.
Mia with her wild curls. Her famous mother. Her ease with seemingly every single thing.
I know she can’t really be his date, so why is she here? And has she told him about Ethan and me? Is this some kind of weird power play?
That doesn’t seem like Adam. He’s not a game player. He’s direct and goes for what he wants.
And then he’s in front of me, wearing jeans and a slate-colored linen shirt that stirs in the ocean breeze. His smile is open and genuine, so beautiful. Deep crinkles bracket his thoughtful gray eyes
as he looks up at us, into the sunlight.
“Beautiful vessel,” he says to my father. His expression is so good-natured and boyish that I know this is just a coincidence, not strategy. I still don’t know what she’s told him. And I still don’t know how I’m going to handle a day at sea with her, but my shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and I smile at them both.
“Come on aboard,” my dad says.
Adam helps Mia onto the short boarding ladder, and my father rushes forward to help her onto the boat. Vaguely, I’m aware of Adam handing off his gear to Weston, along with a bottle of champagne, which earns a distracted smile of approval from my father as his eyes are elsewhere.
“Who have we here?” he says, taking Mia’s hand.
Adam steps onto the deck. “Graham, I’d like you to meet Mia Galliano.”
“I can see why you’d want to bring her along.” My father doesn’t let go of her hands. I feel my face warm. “I wouldn’t let her out of my sight either.”
“Oh, no,” Mia protests. Pink spreads over her olive skin. “I’m just . . . I’m an employee. Thanks for having me along, Mr. Quick.” She looks at me, and it’s plain from her discomfort that there’s nothing spiteful about her appearance here today.
Finally, my father lets go. “Glad to have you.”
“Mia’s in marketing now,” Adam says. “But she’s a filmmaker. She’ll bring a lot of great ideas and creative energy to the new studio.”
“Oh, we’re not talking business already, are we?” my mother says, sweeping out into the sunlight. “Why don’t we get comfy at the front of the ship?”
“The bow, Vivian,” my father says and rolls his eyes toward Adam, inviting his participation.
But Adam just smiles. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Mrs. Quick,” he says, and shakes her hand. “I read that you’re chairing a fundraiser over at LACMA. I’d love to get involved in some way.”
“Oh, wonderful,” my mother says. “We’d love your help.” And her besotted expression tells me she’s sold. Of course, she’s easily charmed. Something my father has been banking on for years.
My mother leads the group away, leaving just Adam and me for a moment.
“You look like you belong on a boat,” he says. “Or in the water. Like a mermaid.”
I don’t know why, but this surprises me. Maybe because it feels so personal. Or because it suggests he sees so much.
The sun feels warmer, baking me in my skin. I want to tell him he looks like he belongs everywhere, like he was born to rule the world. But of course I don’t.
If we were only bodies, everything would be simple. I’d drag him off into a cabin and bolt the door, finish what we started on Halloween night.
But we’re not. Our bodies had their moment. Now it’s time to use my head.
I give Adam a smile. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s join the others.”
Chapter 14
Adam
As the boat leaves the harbor and moves into open water, we settle into a covered seating area and talk about the day’s agenda. The plan is to cruise to Catalina Island and drop anchor near Lover’s Cove, where we’ll have lunch. Weston, the captain, takes our orders right away so he can pass it along to his wife, Sandra, the chef.
This shouldn’t take long since there are only five of us, but Graham seems to want to download everything he knows about barbecuing, so our meal is nothing short of perfect. Vivian Quick rolls her eyes between sips of her drink until Graham notices.
“Problem, Viv?” he asks.
“No, Graham. But I think Weston knows how to grill shrimp, don’t you Weston?”
“Always willing to improve,” Weston says smoothly and excuses himself.
“See, Vivian?” Graham says. “He has the right attitude.”
Vivian takes another sip of her drink and doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns the conversation back to the LACMA fundraiser, going over the details with me, her eyes alive with excitement for the first time since I boarded. Graham interrupts every few seconds, giving me conversational whiplash.
Mia glances at me, clearly picking up on the tension between the Quicks.
Across from me, Alison’s face is cold, impassive. I can’t read her thoughts, but her fingers are clenched around her glass, and her pink-tipped toes grip the deck. She’s not happy about me seeing her parents like this. I want to pull her aside and tell her it’s okay. I know family dysfunction well. But I remember Rhett’s warning—eye on the prize—and force myself to focus on Graham.
With lunch ordered, he’s launched into a list of all the custom upgrades he made to the Ali Cat.
“Sorry,” I say, interrupting. “The name, Ali Cat?”
The boat’s moving into choppier water, and we all pick up our drinks to keep them from spilling over.
“Alison and Catherine,” Vivian says. “Our daughters.”
I can’t help but smile. “Ali, huh?”
“It’s a family nickname,” she says as a blush creeps up her neck.
“Not just family, Ali,” Graham says. He seems to want to correct everything and everyone all the time. I’ll need to give his controlling nature serious consideration later. I don’t like being controlled. By anyone. “Philippe calls you that,” he continues. “So did Ethan.”
Alison’s eyes drop to the drink in her hands, and her mother frowns. Something just happened, but I’m not sure what it is.
“Speaking of Ethan,” Graham says, “I heard you had him as an intern this summer.”
It takes me a moment to realize they’re talking about Ethan Vance. But how do they know Ethan?
“I did. Quality guy. I hated to lose him to grad school, but I still see him socially. You know him?”
“Oh, yes. Great kid,” Graham says. “Smart and driven. Hell of an athlete, too. He was with my Ali for a few years in college. Shame it didn’t work out, but you know young love. Flash in the pan and all that.”
Oh, shit. That’s what this is.
Vivian sends him a warning look, but I’m more focused on Alison, who turns white, and Mia, who closes her eyes for a long second. She looks like she wants to teleport out of here—and why wouldn’t she?
Ethan and Alison dated in college.
And now Ethan’s with Mia.
And I brought Mia here.
Jesus.
Graham’s looking at Alison in a way that seems condemning somehow, and her eyes are becoming glossy.
“I had no idea,” I say, looking from her to Mia, who’s starting to turn a little green.
“No idea about what?” Graham asks.
Alison answers for me. “Ethan is dating Mia now.”
“Oh, dear.” Vivian glances at her daughter with a look of concern.
“Nonsense,” Graham says. “Bygones! Right, Ali? We’re all civilized human beings. Mia took the prize this time, but another young man will come along for my girl.”
Alison ignores him. “Ethan’s a great guy,” she says to Mia. “I mean . . . I’m sure you know that. I’m glad you two are together. And . . . happy and everything.”
“Thanks, Alison,” Mia says, but her expression is strained and a little panicked. Her hand flattens on her stomach. “Um, I don’t mean to change the subject, but do you guys have any Dramamine? I’m feeling a little off.”
“In the guest bath,” Vivian says. “I’ll get them.” But Graham’s hand reaches for her wrist, keeping her there.
“Weston!” he yells.
Mia hops up. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get it. I know where it is.”
I excuse myself and follow her inside. Right now, Mia’s priority one.
“Adam, it’s okay,” Mia says as we hustle to the head. “Really, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
I step into the small bathroom with her and shut the door behind us. She immediately bends over the sink and splashes water on her face.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Mia. Damn it. You should have said something. I’d never have brought you here if I’d known.�
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She peers up at me, water dripping off her face. “This deal is so important for the company, and I thought I could do it. I didn’t think we were going to discuss Ethan. Dear God. Why is the floor moving so much? Did someone put acid in those drinks?”
“Hang on.” I open a cabinet and find a bottle of seasickness tablets, handing her one. Mia takes two more from me. “Wait, those are really strong. One should be—”
“I feel like I’m going to die.”
“We’ve barely been on the water fifteen minutes.”
“I know, but I’m a land animal. A chair animal. Beds. Couches. I’m a comfortable stationary-place animal. But don’t worry. I’ll survive.” Mia slumps against the door. We’re still on choppy water. The yacht is still moving around a lot, the floor pitching beneath us. “I’m the one who’s sorry for being a terrible date.”
“No. You did nothing wrong. I just wish I hadn’t dragged you here.” I should go back to the Quicks, but I have a second to process all of this now.
Ethan and Alison.
That was a surprise.
I want to know more, and I also don’t.
“Were they serious?” I ask, the rational part of my brain losing.
Mia pushes her hair away from her cheek and nods but doesn’t say more.
I think of the condemning look Graham just sent Alison. He blames her for the end of the relationship. Does that mean Alison left Ethan? Did she betray him?
I can’t picture it. I can’t see Alison as a girl who’d deliberately hurt someone. She’s a nurturer. She rescues horses. She hugged me when I was a complete stranger. Kindness is her default gear.
There’s a story behind this. Between Alison and Ethan. And even though it’s none of my business, I want to know it.
I’m about to ask Mia another question when she groans and bends over her stomach. “Ugh. Ow. Ahhhh. Adam, please get out. I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s okay. I’ll stay—”
“No! Please. Go.” She shoves me out of the bathroom. As she’s closing the door, I catch a glimpse of her whirling toward the toilet.
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