Chapter Seventeen
“SO,” DINAH SAYS, “ARE WE STARTING WITH YOUR DUET WITH Jack or your Dirty Dancing reenactment with Noah?”
I grimace. “Must we?”
The pink sand packs beneath my toes as Dinah and I walk the length of the beach. I’ve spent the day painting upstairs, but now that the sky is starting to bruise, it feels good to get some fresh air.
“Oh, come on,” she says, nudging me lightly with her elbow. “You and Jack had all of us in a nostalgic spiral. Even my impenetrable heart was feeling it. And then you and Noah went full rom-com.”
I sigh and shake my head. “It was fun. I was drunk. It was drunk fun.”
“Which part?”
I roll my eyes at her, at myself. “All of it.”
She laughs. “And?”
“And confusing?” I admit, slowing my pace.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I like Noah.
He’s arguably a great guy. But then I bump into my ex every other day, and, well you know how it is with him, Dinah.
I can never resist Jack. One look from him, and I’m on fire.
It’s always been that way for me. I’m beginning to think it always will be.
” I rub my thumb along the strap of my tank, nervous energy buzzing.
“No matter how much distance I try to build, the second I see Jack, it’s all still there.
The history. The way he sees me, it’s like no one else can.
And I,” I swallow, hating how true it is, “I don’t know how to un-feel that. ”
I kick at a shell in the sand, frustration knotting in my chest. “And what makes it worse is I don’t even have to see Jack for it to start.
I’ll be out for a run, or making coffee, or folding laundry, and bam.
A memory will blindside me. Like the way he used to wrap me up in his oversized hoodie when I was cold, or the way he always makes sure I’m okay at a party.
With just a glance, I know he’s reading me. ”
“And not just this summer. It’s been happening for the last two years. But being back here, it’s like there are little fingerprints of him on everything.” I feel my voice thinning as my throat goes tight. I’ll go days without seeing him, but I’m still seeing him everywhere.”
I drag a hand through my hair, annoyed at myself. “And when he’s actually there? When he looks at me like he did last night? All of me just boils over. Ugh. I hate this.”
“Do you really though?” Dinah asks.
No. I love it. I love being anywhere near Jack. That’s what makes this so frustrating. We aren’t together anymore. It’s been nearly two years. Confusion clouds my head as we pass some teens throwing a lacrosse ball.
“I hate that I don’t know how to not feel it, if that makes any sense,” I wince.
“I can promise myself I’ve moved on, but the second Jack shows up, or the second I even think about him showing up, everything tilts.
I’ll be minding my business, and out of nowhere I’ll think, I wonder if he remembered sunscreen on his morning run. Who does that?”
“Someone still in it,” Dinah says, squeezing my wrist. “And then there’s the hunky musician …”
“Noah surprises me. He’s new. But with him I sometimes feel like I’m trying on a version of myself not with Jack, just to see how it fits.”
Dinah bumps my shoulder. “Just make sure you’re being true to the girl I know and love.”
The breeze pushes a strand of hair across my cheek. I swipe it away, annoyed at myself. And how annoying I must be to listen to. Dragging my toes through the sand, I watch the way the pink grains collapse and slowly fill back in.
“Noah’s fun. And smart. And so cute. Exactly who I’d fall for if I met him back home.”
“Sounds promising.”
“But,” I start, acutely aware of how much I’m obsessing. “Jack. That spark between us just won’t die, no matter how much time passes. Almost kissing him was hotter than anyone I’ve been with the past two years.”
“Damn,” Dinah exhales. “You’ve got yourself a solid love triangle, Luce.”
I groan and cover my face with my hands. “I just want someone who will choose me, make a life with me, and not expect me to squeeze into the sidelines of theirs.”
Dinah leans over and hugs me. “And you deserve that. Now, want me to distract you with the latest on my tragic love life?”
I glance over. “The French guy?”
Dinah nods. “He left the island this morning.”
My eyes widen. “Already?”
“He texted. Something vague and charming about rescheduling dinner in another time zone.”
I frown. “Classic rich guy fade. Do you think he’ll come back later this summer?”
She shrugs but isn’t quite pulling off nonchalant. “I hope so. Which is gross.”
“It’s not gross,” I say. “It’s hopeful. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you deserve more.”
Dinah wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Coming from the girl tangled between two decent and hopeful men, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We’re halfway back to my house when thunder bellows, low and rolling. I glance over my shoulder, and the sky behind us has gone dark. A storm is barreling our way. “Let’s pick up the pace before we get caught in that.”
Dinah looks back and pulls out her phone. I watch her lips curl with mischief as she reads. “The group chat says rainy game day at Jack and Allie’s.”
By the time we climb the back steps, the storm breaks, fast and hard, the way island weather always does. Rain sheets off the roof, pounding loud enough that I can’t hear whatever Allie says when she opens the door, Felix propped on her hip.
Inside, the living room is warm and cozy. Drew’s at the counter mixing a pitcher of margaritas. For as long as I can remember, we’ve gathered here on rainy days for cards. The teams change, the jokes evolve, but the ritual never does.
“All right,” Allie says from the rug, cross-legged, shuffling the deck in her hands. “What are we playing?”
Another crack of thunder rolls overhead as the front door bangs, and Thomas bursts in, T-shirt soaked. “Euchre or bust,” he declares, already sprawling onto his stomach and digging into the bowl of popcorn.
Two minutes later, Sloane and Dawn tumble in on a gust of wind, hair frizzing at their temples. Sloane drops onto the arm of the couch beside me. “Are you dealing Euchre? I still don’t understand this game.”
“That’s apparently the point,” Dawn says. “Jack just makes up the rules as he goes.”
“I do not,” Jack calls from the kitchen. He appears with a small bowl of pistachios. “I enforce the rules. There’s a difference.”
He grins at me, and I return it with a wave, my neck heating up at the reminder of how I just spent the last twenty minutes pouring out my soul to Dinah. Thank goodness he has no idea.
“All right. Teams.” Allie is practical and efficient as she pulls her braid over one shoulder. “Lucy, you’re with Sloane. Thomas and Jack are together. Dawn and Dinah, you’ll play the winner. I’ll ref until Felix takes a nap and then Drew can be my partner.”
Cards are dealt. Popcorn gets passed. Rain hammers the roof in a steady percussion, drowning out everything beyond these walls. The room smells of wet hair, salty air, and butter.
“Lucy, play a good card,” Sloane whispers as she lays her first card.
Jack leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “No cheating,” he warns, one brow lifted at the two of us.
Dawn cackles. “Oh, please. Lucy’s the only one here who doesn’t cheat.”
I lay down a card.
Jack studies me over the top of his, then smirks as he lays a trump over my ace. “If it helps, I didn’t enjoy doing that.”
I squint back at him, “Sure you didn’t.”
The games unfold the way they always do, with Thomas swearing he’s been sabotaged and Sloane insisting she almost understands this time.
I try my best to stay focused, but Thomas and Jack beat us anyway.
Between rounds I duck into the kitchen to refill my drink.
When I look up, I see that Jack has followed me in.
He leans one hip against the counter. “Good game.”
“You left early,” I blurt. “Last night.”
Jack’s eyebrows lift, surprised. “You noticed?”
“Of course.”
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I,” He hesitates, searching for words. “I didn’t want to…make things weird.”
The admission hits somewhere low in my chest. “You don’t make things weird,” I answer.
His gaze flicks up to mine, almost hopeful. “Luce…I—”
Before he can finish his thought, Thomas pokes his head through the doorway and grabs the salt.
“Popcorn is bland as hell. We’re up,” he announces, looking at Jack. “Gotta defend our title.”
Jack straightens, the moment snapping like a rubber band. He turns to me, an apologetic smile on his lips.
“Good luck,” I say, looking up at him as his eyes pour over my face.
He steps past me to the living room, but as he goes, his hand skims the back of my arm. Light, intimate, and gone in an instant. I stare at the spot he touched. Outside, thunder rolls again. Inside, the air thickens, with rain, with history, with things unsaid.
Later, freshly showered and climbing into bed, my mind swirls around the Jack that exists this summer and the Jack from two years ago.
Present Jack feels more settled, more tuned in and relaxed.
Past Jack was preoccupied and distracted.
The night we broke up was the final straw.
It was the night before my art gallery reception in Charleston. My first real solo show.
“You know I wish I could be there,” he’d said.
“You could be.”
“Luce…I hate myself for it. Not being there for you tomorrow. I know how hard you’ve worked on this collection. I am so proud of you. If I had any choice, any wiggle room to make it happen, I’d be there. But I have to be at this meeting tomorrow.”
A last-minute meeting in New York that his boss pulled him into, something “really important,” something that couldn’t be moved.
“It’s always a client meeting. Or an event. This is one of the biggest moments of my life, and you’re choosing work.”
I could hear Jack’s frustration as he replied, “This is for us. For our future.”
“I don’t want a future where you’re not by my side. Where I come second.”
There was an empty pause then, almost like a flatline, “Luce.”
“I think I need some space, Jack.”
The show was packed. Dinah flew in with an embarrassing bouquet of ranunculus.
My parents came and pretended not to cry.
Gran held court proudly by the guestbook.
I smiled until my cheeks ached. But I kept glancing toward the door.
Even though I knew Jack wasn’t coming, I kept hoping he’d surprise me.
This show was everything I’d been working toward. And he wasn’t there.
So I stood there in a navy dress I picked because he once told me it brought out my eyes, shaking hands with strangers and hugging friends, pretending the empty space beside me didn’t matter.