Chapter 40
Forty
S ybil
The next week passes in a strange mix of haze and slow motion. Each moment drags painfully, yet it’s also as if the days have evaporated. Nothing feels real—like I’m living someone else’s story—but I’m not. This is my life now. These events are mine to live through.
Arden isn’t here, and Dad is dead. Things will never ever be the same.
We try to hold on to normalcy as a family.
We share meals, wander through shops, visit the beach, watch movies, and sleep in as long as we can.
These are the little joys of being on the island—things we once treasured.
But the absence lingers, heavy and impossible to ignore. We aren’t whole anymore.
It feels surreal… being on this island, a place saturated with Dad.
The new house itself is almost a stranger.
We barely had time to fill it with memories of our own.
It was just last summer we stayed here for the first time.
Two weeks of sunshine and exploration, only to have it shattered by the boating accident.
By the end of that trip, Dad was gone.
What haunts me most are the fragmented memories from that day. They come in flashes—sharp images that cut deep and blurry gaps in time. I remember the accident. I remember Cooper on the boat, his right leg mangled beyond recognition. The blood. The screaming. The gut-wrenching panic.
I don’t remember the last time I saw Dad.
I had called for him, my voice raw with desperation. I remember searching the water, scanning every ripple and shadow. He wasn’t there. Then came the police, the paramedics, the search and rescue teams.
Still, no Dad.
Each time I revisit these memories, it’s like dissecting a wound that refuses to heal, asking myself over and over what I could have done differently, how I could have changed the outcome.
Then there’s the nagging unease—the faint but persistent feeling I’ve forgotten something critical, something hidden beneath the bloody waters of that day.
My therapist says I might never remember everything. My brain might be protecting me, locking the trauma in some unlit corner of my mind.
I know she’s right.
Maybe it’s better this way.
“There’s another delivery,” Hayes announces.
It’s mid-morning, and we’ve been lounging around watching television when the doorbell rings. Hayes answers it, returning with a robin egg colored cake box.
“It’s food. Smells good. I’ll take it to the kitchen.”
I follow him as he adds it to the many vases of flowers already clogging up the kitchen counter. The flowers are all condolences from friends and family who have read the news. The media broke the story before Mom had a chance to tell anyone besides us kids.
It sucks, but we weren’t surprised, considering the frenzy his death created in the first place. Billionaire CEO dies in a freak accident? People ate that shit up. And they ate it up even more when the police tried to pin the accident on Ethan.
It was never Ethan’s fault.
As much as I wish Ethan wouldn’t have dated Arden in secret, but I understand why he did. He loved her then, and he loves her now. It wasn’t Ethan who drove his boat like a maniac. But the police wanted to arrest someone, and Ethan was the perfect scapegoat, at least until the truth came out.
Hayes opens the box, and the milky-sweet scent of cheesecake floods the kitchen, shaking me from my tumultuous thoughts. I practically sprint around the kitchen island to get a better look at the box. Sure enough, it’s from my favorite bakery in the entire world.
A smile tugs at my mouth. “It’s from Ethan. He sent another cheesecake.”
“Had it shipped all the way from Boston, looks like,” Hayes says, pointing to the logo. “Should we put it in the fridge for later or have it for brunch now?”
“Definitely now.” I give my not-so-little-anymore brother a wink and retrieve dishes and forks.
Before long, the rest of the family joins us, and we chow down on what I consider the best cheesecake out there.
I first found it when I was a freshman in college. I told Ethan I wanted a cheesecake for my birthday, so we spent our Valentine’s Day and my birthday traipsing around downtown Boston to all the spots claiming to have “world famous” cheesecake. Once we found Little Blue Bakery, it was game over.
We shared a slice, fell in love with it, and took an entire cake home to my little dorm refrigerator and spent the rest of the week munching on it while simultaneously complaining about inflammation and bloating.
Totally worth it.
Every year since, Ethan has bought me cheesecake for my birthday.
Even after we broke up, the cakes were sent to me in New York.
They’ve been arriving anonymously, but I know it’s Ethan’s way of letting me know that, despite everything, he doesn’t hate me. We’ve always wanted what’s best for each other. That will never change.
I’d kinda thought he’d quit sending them after meeting Arden, but that blue box still showed up on my birthday.
And here it is again.
“This is very thoughtful of him,” Mom remarks. “Especially after everything we’ve put him through.”
She’ll forever regret the choices we made.
Mom has taken what is, in my expert-cheesecake opinion, way too small of a slice. I sneak more to her plate when she’s not looking, hoping she won’t be able to resist. She’s lost too much weight recently, and I hate to see how grief has changed her body as well as her mind.
“Hey Syb, can I meet Gloria Ricci?” Chandler asks between bites, giving me the most hopeful look I think he’s ever given me.
I’m instantly amused. “You want to meet the supermodel?”
He nods, a cheesy grin on his face.
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“I think she’ll love me.” He’s probably right; Chandler is the most lovable person I’ve ever met.
Hayes snorts. “Gloria is hot, but I want to meet the pop star. What’s her name again? Audry?”
“Audra Mason. You don’t even know her name, and you want to meet her?” Mom questions.
She hasn’t touched her food. I frown but try not to let it get me down. Everyone grieves in their own way.
Hayes shrugs. “All the girls at school are obsessed with her. If I can get a selfie with her, I’m sure the girls will try to get to her through me.”
Mom tuts, but I laugh.
Honestly, it’s not a bad idea, except for the fact that Hayes already graduated.
He’s off to Harvard in the fall to follow in the family footsteps.
Life is about to get a whole lot more grown-up for him.
But hey, the girls at Harvard aren’t so different from girls at his school, and I’m sure a lot of them will also be Audra Mason fans.
“Always thinking about girls.” Mom points to her boys. “You’re going to have to think about more than girls soon.”
“I think about more than girls, Mom,” Hayes says. “I also think about football.”
That’s not what she wanted him to say, of course. I intercept before the lecture on his responsibilities to the family commences.
“I’ll take you to meet the cast when I head over to the Hargrove’s place tomorrow,” I tell my brothers.
“You can come with me, but you have to promise to be on your best behavior. This is a professional working set with people’s livelihoods on the line.
No horsing around or pranks. Do anything to embarrass me, and you’re kicked out for good. ”
“I’d better come, too.” Mom sighs, and I don’t disagree. She needs to get out of the house.
True to my word, I let the family tag along with me.
Perry’s place is on the western side of the island, where the water isn’t as choppy as the Atlantic.
Not as good for surfing, but much better for swimming, which suits our filming purposes.
None of the cast-mates know how to surf, but Perry wants to get lots of shots of them in the pool and down at the beach.
We pull up to Perry’s house, and I’m instantly glad we chose his place for filming.
It’s in the traditional Nantucket-style, the architecture similar to mine with shingled siding, white squared columns, and peaks in the roofline.
His house is white instead of blue, but otherwise they’re very similar, except his beach is a little more private.
Leading them inside, I quickly find Ricki and explain that my family wants to meet the cast. I can tell she’s fighting her annoyance, but she makes the introductions, and everyone is really nice, thank goodness. It helps that Chandler has an excellent way of making everybody laugh.
Benton pulls me aside. “Hey, are you okay? I heard about your dad.”
“I’m as okay as I can be,” I say. “I don’t really want to talk about it. How are you?”
He grimaces. “Gloria is a lot. If I don’t give her exactly what she wants while we’re filming, she’s going to drag my reputation through the mud. So looks like I have a girlfriend now.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I tried to warn you, but then my mom called about my dad and?—”
He grabs my hand and squeezes. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you. You promised this show wasn’t going to screw me over. Just keep that promise.”
“I will. But you have to be careful, too.”
“Come here, Laurence.” He pulls me into a hug, and I melt against his hard chest. He’s going to hate me if I can’t keep my word, and I can’t bear to lose another friend.
Someone clears their throat. “You’d better step away from Sybil before your girlfriend loses her shit again.”
We turn to find Cooper glaring in our direction.
Benton chuckles and releases me, patting me on the shoulder and giving Cooper a devil-may-care smirk. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s about to lose your shit, boss?”
He doesn’t stick around for an answer, and I can’t help but notice the way Cooper glares daggers at Benton’s back.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous,” I tease.
Cooper’s mouth thins. “We’ve talked about this, Sybil. You have to be careful with him. Especially now that he’s dating Gloria.”
My face burns. “I get it. Benton and I are just friends.”
“He wasn’t hugging you like you’re just friends . He was hugging you like he wants to take you to bed.”
I snort, hiding the frustration bubbling under my skin. “I thought we’d gotten past all this, Cooper. Yes, Benton and I have been together many times, but we’re not anymore. So get over it.”
I shove past him, fighting everything I have in me not to turn around and see what’s written across his face. Jealousy? Indifference? Frustration? Whatever it is, I shouldn’t care.
But I do.