Chapter 11
Asalty breeze blows straight into my face, lifting my hair off my neck. I smile, staring out at the dazzling spread of blue in front of me.
Blue water. Blue sky. Both stretching as far as the horizon goes.
I haven’t been to the Parkers’ beach house on Martha’s Vineyard since college. The past two summers were spent at stressful internships. Taking any break felt like losing momentum. And I was scared if I stopped … I might not start again.
I forgot how much I missed this. The sea-brine scent in the air. The clumps of seaweed scattered in the sand. The sight of the lighthouse silhouetted against the sky.
I feel freer here. Wilder. Younger.
My phone rings, so I abandon my spot leaning against the balcony rail and walk back into the guest room where I’m staying.
I pick up my vibrating phone off the pine dresser, my enthusiasm dimming slightly when I see who’s calling.
It’s Prescott.
I suck in a deep breath, take a seat on the edge of the bed, then answer. “Hey.”
“Hey.” There’s a muffled thud, like binders being stacked. I’m sure he’s studying for the bar, and it makes me feel guilty I’m not doing the same. “Are you going?”
“Going where?” I ask.
“Founding Fathers. For Jenny’s birthday. Krista texted a couple of hours ago. I was studying, so I just saw it.”
“Oh. Uh, no, I’m not going.”
A pause.
“Everything okay?”
I tug at a loose thread on the quilt. It’s pink and embroidered with yellow flowers. “Yeah, everything’s good. It’s just …”
“Just …” Pres prompts.
I blow out a long sigh, then lie back to stare up at the ceiling. Weathered wood beams interrupt the white plaster.
I don’t know how to describe the claustrophobia I’ve been experiencing recently. All my law school friends—including Prescott—are stressed about the bar exam and excited about starting their careers. And I’m … numb to it. Or I was, until I stepped on the ferry earlier. The farther it churned into the Atlantic, the more weight fell off my shoulders.
“I’m visiting Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend.”
A long pause follows.
When we first started dating, I think Prescott liked that I was so independent. I know he’s annoyed by it now, even though he tries to hide it.
I’m more concerned why I don’t rely on him. I like Prescott. He’s thoughtful and intelligent and considerate. I enjoy spending time with him. But I don’t crave his company. I don’t miss him when we’re apart. Admitting that feels like a failure, especially when there’s nothing wrong with our relationship. When it should work.
“Martha’s Vineyard? You’re on Martha’s Vineyard?” His voice is mostly surprised, but I think he’s just hiding the annoyance beneath.
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re joking.”
“What’s funny?” I say to lighten the mood, but I doubt Pres is smiling.
“I—you didn’t even mention it, Elle.”
“Keira’s parents have a place out here. It was just a last-minute girls’ trip. I needed a break from stuffing my brain with UCC rules.”
“I’m not mad. Just … surprised. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t have plans this weekend.”
Prescott scoffs. “I haven’t seen you all week. You didn’t think I might want to spend time with you this weekend?”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
He blows out a breath. “Wow.”
I rub my forehead. “I’m sorry, okay? I just needed a …”
“Break. Yeah, you said. Except we haven’t seen each other since last weekend, so I’m not sure what you need a break from.”
“Pres …” I wait for him to fill the silence with something, but he doesn’t. So my voice just trails awkwardly, highlighting how one-sided our relationship has become.
I noticed Prescott was the more invested one of us a long time ago. I think he’s just starting to.
“Take your break, Elle. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Okay. Tell Jenny happy birth?—”
He hangs up on me mid-word.
I toss my phone away, still staring up at the ceiling. My boyfriend of six months basically just broke up with me. I should be sad or angry or hurt. Instead, I’m an empty shell. A hollow husk.
Scout whines, so I slide off the edge of the bed to sit on the floor with him. I have a partial view of the ocean as I stroke his soft fur.
Streaks of pastel color are spreading across the horizon, orange and pink and purple. It’s stunning. I stare, transfixed, trying to remember the last time I sat and watched a sunset. I can’t come up with an answer.
“Elle?” There’s a soft tap on the door.
Scout leaps to his feet, barking once. I’m slower to rise.
“It’s okay,” I tell Scout, tossing a treat toward his crate before hobbling toward the door. My feet fell asleep a while ago.
“Hey.” Keira studies me closely once I open the door. The light is on in the hallway, emphasizing how dark my room has become. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I was just … resting.”
“Time to perk up, girl. I haven’t seen you in weeks, you just kicked Harvard Law’s ass, and Juliet already raided the fully stocked liquor cabinet. Do you have a drink request?”
I shake my head, smiling. “I’m good with whatever. Just let me feed Scout, and then I’ll be down.”
“Okay. Sushi should be here any minute.”
“I thought we were grilling?”
“Yeah … it turns out, I don’t really know how to work the grill. And I also didn’t feel like cooking.”
I laugh. “Okay.”
After feeding Scout, I decide to change. Keira was wearing sweats and a tank top, so the evening’s vibe seems casual.
I pull a pink pajama set out of my suitcase, twist my hair up into a bun, and head downstairs.
“Finally!” Juliet cheers when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
The first floor has an open concept, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all sharing most of the main space.
“Martini or gin and tonic?” Juliet asks as I approach the counter, covered with crackers, cheese, and a bunch of bottles.
“Martini,” I answer.
“Here.” Juliet hands me a glass a minute later. “Made it extra dirty for you.” She winks.
“Thank you.” I stick my tongue out at her before walking over toward the long table, where Keira’s sitting with Avery and Ophelia around a huge spread of sushi.
Avery was Keira’s freshman-year roommate, and Ophelia works in the kitchen of Keira’s restaurant. I’m not as close to them as I am with Juliet and Keira, but they’re both kind, accomplished women.
Juliet joins us a few seconds later, a drink in hand.
The sushi is delicious, maybe the best I’ve ever had. No shortage of fresh seafood when you’re surrounded by the ocean.
I don’t talk much during dinner, soaking in the relaxed atmosphere and sipping on my martini as I listen to Ophelia joke about her worst experiences with dating apps.
Once we finish eating, the empty sushi containers get tossed in the recycling. Glasses get drained.
Ophelia heads up to bed first, followed by Avery soon after. Juliet takes a call from Gavin—her on-again, off-again boyfriend—and wanders toward the sunporch.
I go upstairs to let Scout out of his crate, then bring him down and out onto the deck. While he sniffs around the beach grass, I settle in one of the Adirondack chairs. The animal rescue didn’t know much about Scout’s backstory, but I’m guessing this is his first visit to the ocean. So far, his highlights seem to be digging in the sand and chasing seagulls.
There’s a soft swish, and Keira steps out onto the deck, closing the sliding door behind her. She tightens the white sweater wrapped around her shoulders as she takes the seat next to mine.
The sun’s disappearance has dropped the outside temperature by at least ten degrees. Paired with the breeze wafting off the water, it’s chilly out.
I run my finger around the rim of the martini glass that has an inch of liquid left, smearing the prints from my lip gloss. My feet are falling asleep, propped up on the railing, but I don’t move them. I just stare out at the moon-drenched sea.
“I never want to leave,” I confess. “I forgot how perfect this place is.”
“I’d get bored,” Keira says. “I’m jealous you ended up in Boston.”
“Open up a second location of The Franklin,” I suggest.
She groans. “I’m still exhausted from getting the first one off the ground.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Just relax here. Look out at the ocean and listen to the waves.”
“Maybe you should move out here.”
I laugh once. “I can’t.”
“You can do whatever you want, Elle.”
“There’s not a lot of legal work on most islands.”
Keira fishes the olive out of her martini glass and pops it into her mouth. “And no fancy brownstone or fancy job or fancy boyfriend.”
I exhale. “We’re taking a break.”
“You and Prescott?”
“No. Me and my fancy townhouse.”
She snorts. “What happened?”
I swallow more salty gin. “I don’t know. It just … happened.” My finger rubs the rim again, until it squeaks. “He was annoyed I hadn’t told him about this trip.”
“You didn’t tell him about this trip?”
“Nope.” I pop the P.
“I put plus-ones allowed in the email mostly for you, you know. I wanted to meet him.”
“It’s a girls’ weekend.”
“Only because Gavin pissed Juliet off, and Ophelia has terrible luck with dating apps, and Tuck is obsessed with the new renovation.”
“What’s the new renovation?”
“The old Warren house. He’s planning to flip it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
Scout bounds up the stairs, plopping down on the wood planks next to my feet. I lean down to brush sand off his fur.
“Tuck texted earlier. Some materials he needs got delayed … so he might come tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” I say.
“He might bring Ryder.”
I freeze, glad I’m bent over so Keira can’t see my face. I assumed Tucker knew about Ryder’s release. Figured that meant Keira did too. I even considered it might come up at some point this weekend.
I was absolutely not expecting to see Ryder this weekend.
My stomach lurches, the gin and sushi threatening to make a reappearance.
“Elle?”
I force my spine to straighten. Paste a smile on my face. “I heard you. I was just … surprised.”
“I’m not sure if he’s coming. I just wanted to … I thought you should know.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Are you okay with Ryder coming? Because I can tell Tuck?—”
“Of course I’m okay with Ryder coming.” The lie tugs at the stitches in my chest. “It was forever ago. And it’s nice that he and Tuck still get together. That they’re still friends.”
My mind is racing as fast as my heart. I’m not even aware of half the crap spilling out of my mouth.
“He’s working for Tuck. On the Warren project.”
A weak “Oh” is all I can think to say.
I drain the rest of my martini. The soundtrack of the waves is no longer calming. It sounds like they’re pounding the shore, raging and riled.
I last less than a minute before the curiosity is too much to contain. “Have you seen him?”
“Yeah. He was at the jobsite when I stopped by a few days ago.”
“How-how did he look?”
“Hot. Like all he did in prison was work out.”
I huff. “That’s not—I meant like … happy. Did he seem … okay at least?”
“He seemed a little pissed off. When I got there, he was throwing stuff around the backyard. But he was nice. Thanked me for the coffee, like, three times. Seemed normal. But I’d never really talked to him before. That was always … you.”
“Right.” I start stroking Scout’s fur again, hoping it’ll help calm my sprinting heart. “Well, I should get to bed. This guy loves to wake up early.”
“He asked about you.”
I freeze halfway out of the chair. “He did?”
“Uh-huh.”
Keira is watching me closely, and I’m too stunned to act indifferent.
“What-what did he say?”
“Just asked how you were. I told him you were good, that you’d just graduated law school. That was it.”
“Oh.”
“Kinda interesting, how your relationships run into trouble whenever Ryder James returns to town. First Archer, now Prescott.”
I unfreeze long enough to send Keira a sharp look for that insinuation. “This is different. Pres and I … it’s just a transition period after law school. It has nothing to do with Ryder.”
“You knew he was out though.”
“Yeah. Nin—I saw the article in the paper.”
I’ve never told Keira or Juliet about my visits to Ryder’s mom, and this feels like the exact wrong moment to bring them up.
I fake a yawn, then stand. “Thanks for dinner. Sushi was delicious.”
Keira waves my appreciation away. “Of course. Tomorrow night, there’s this new bar I want to go to. So, rest up.”
“Sounds good,” I reply. “Night.”
“Night, Elle.”
I head inside and upstairs, not relaxing until I’m lying under the covers, replaying my conversation with Keira.
So much for being a restful weekend away from my law books. If Ryder shows up … I have no clue how I’ll handle that. I figured I’d see him at Keira and Tuck’s wedding—months from now. As two people out of hundreds. Not in a small group—tomorrow.
What bothers me most about my conversation with Keira is, she’s right—my relationships always run into problems around Ryder. Mostly because he always makes other guys seem like consolation prizes. By comparison, they were less. Less excitement. Less passion. Less … love.
And I resent Ryder for it.
Just not as much as I resent him for never picking me back.