Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ISLA
“We’re just so excited for you both,” Lisa Willis says, smiling at me and Luke over her cup of tea.
“Thank you,” I say. The Willises have a summer home on the Way. Before I was engaged to Luke, I think I’d spoken maybe three words to Lisa.
I keep glancing at Luke like he’ll do something to reveal the truth. I’m itchy and anxious and not in the mood for tea.
“How awful about that racquetball injury,” Lisa says to Luke. “But I’m sure you’ll be right as rain for the wedding.”
Racquetball? I shoot Luke a questioning glance and he squeezes my knee. “I should keep my eye on the ball,” he jokes. Lucille and Lisa laugh like he said the funniest thing they ever heard.
I can’t focus. Caden’s words keep replaying over and over in my mind. Luke kissing a waitress. The “people like us” comment. The selective video, showing only the end of the confrontation, with no evidence to back up either man’s claim.
It feels like my brain is breaking apart.
I need a minute.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be right back. Restroom,” I explain to Luke.
I extract myself from his grasp and make my way down the hall. As I go, I can hear Lisa say, “I didn’t think she’d be so well-mannered.”
I pass the stairs to the second floor and an impulse seizes me. It’s probably a bad idea.
No, it’s definitely a bad idea.
But my feet seem to move of their own accord. Suddenly, I’m running up the stairs and dashing down the hallway to Luke’s room. His duffel bag is open and I rummage through it, searching for some sign of infidelity. I don’t even know what I’m looking for—a pair of panties? A lipstick stain on his collar? Am I in some Lifetime movie? I can’t seem to stop myself though. I tear through his room, looking in drawers, in his closet, opening the boxes he keeps his watches in. Finally, I slump down onto his bed.
This is insane. I feel like a crazy person. Like a snoop. This isn’t me. I need to hear what Luke has to say in person, not go behind his back.
I stand, straighten out my skirt, and take a deep breath, preparing to head back downstairs.
Then I hear it. A faint ping. Like a phone notification.
But I know for a fact that Luke’s phone is with him, downstairs. It was on the coffee table next to his teacup.
There’s another ping. It sounds like it’s coming from the duffel bag. But I checked there.
I check again and this time, as I run my hand over the inside lining, I feel something flat and hard. There’s a hidden zipper to a secret pocket.
And inside that pocket is a phone.
I pull it out with trembling hands. I’ve never seen it before—it’s an old iPhone in a simple black case. I have a brief, hopeful moment where I think maybe it’s one of his friends’ phones. But why keep it in a secret pocket? And none of his friends would own a phone this old.
As I’m staring at it, the screen lights up with a new text.
My heart thunks into my stomach and my vision blurs. For the second time today, it feels like the floor drops out from under me.
The name of the contact is SP3. I can’t think of anyone Luke knows with the initials SP. The text reads:
Hey Lukey baby. Can’t wait to feel you inside me again. Let me know when you’re free xoxo.
I scramble to unlock the phone. My first guesses for his passcode—his birthday and the jersey numbers of his three favorite Yankee players—are wrong. But then I try to think of the most juvenile, degrading passcode a cheater might use. I try 80085. The old joke boys used to use on calculators in middle school—it spells BOOBS.
The phone unlocks.
I click on the text icon and see various messages, all from senders with SP and a number next to it.
Can’t stop thinking about last night.
I’m free tonight, are you around for some fun?
There’s one that’s just a series of nudes.
Who are all these women? What does SP mean? Why are they sending him these things?
My face grows hot and tears prick my eyes. Even when looking directly at the evidence, it’s like I still can’t accept what’s happening. But it’s there, in black and white, spelled out for me. Caden was right. Luke is the liar. He’s been cheating on me. And with how many women?
I scroll and see it goes up to SP10. I can’t breathe. Things start to click into place. All those late nights working. Those last-minute trips into the city. Luke always being so understanding about my need to stay in Magnolia Bay. I thought each of us being able to live our own lives was a good thing. I thought it made our relationship stronger. I thought we both valued our independence.
Luke was using that independence to see other women.
My gaze catches on another text.
Meet me at that tiki bar. I look at the date of that one and feel like I’m pitching forward into an abyss. That was when he was on the private island. When I was sick. When he supposedly had no service.
I turn away, my stomach churning. Who is this person? How could he do this? Do these women know he’s engaged? Or is he lying to them as well? And what the hell does SP mean?
It suddenly hits me. A conversation on the yacht, a couple of months ago with Chad and Trip. Trip saying something crass that I can’t quite recall but I remember he referred to a woman as a side piece.
SP.
Side piece.
“Isla?” I hear footsteps and before I can move, Luke enters the room.
“Here you are,” he says, smiling. “What are you?—”
He stops when he sees the phone in my hand. Words have deserted me. All I can do is hold it up, showing him his crimes.
“I can explain,” he says quickly.
“No, you can’t,” I shoot back. “There’s no explaining this. Who are all these women?”
“They’re nothing,” he says. “They’re nobodies. They don’t matter.”
I toss the secret phone onto his bed. “I think that’s actually worse,” I say. A tear trickles down my cheek, catching at the corner of my mouth. I stare at him for a moment.
“Why?” I ask, and my voice breaks.
Luke shifts uncomfortably and doesn’t speak. His silence infuriates me.
“Why bother getting engaged at all?” I demand.
“Because I love you,” he says.
The words are so hollow I’m shocked they don’t have an echo.
“No, you don’t,” I shoot back. “That,” I point to the phone, “is not what you do when you love someone. So, why not just stay single, run around, have your flings, fuck whoever you want?”
Luke hesitates.
“I had to get married,” he admits. “Dad says it’s the only way to be taken seriously in our business. Clients trust family men. He wouldn’t even consider giving me the Sixth Ave properties until we got engaged.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. These people. These fucking people. Russell Everton and now Luke. Do they even understand the concept of love? Is everything a transaction to them?
Luke seems to realize how his words sounded. “I really like you, though. I want to be with you,” he says. “Let me make it up to you, Isla. I can change, I swear. What do you want? A bakery? I’ll buy you a bakery. One you can run yourself. You can have anything you want. Just say the word.”
“You think you can buy me?” I say. “Do—did you ever even know me at all?”
The answer is clear—he didn’t. And I didn’t know him either. I see everything in a different light now. This entire relationship feels like one big soap bubble. Glossy and pristine on the outside but empty. And now it’s ready to pop.
I yank the ring off and toss it on the bed next to the phone. “This is over. I’m done.”
I storm out of the room, down the stairs, and into my car.
I don’t stop driving until I get to Charlotte’s house.
“Isla, what happened?” she cries when she opens the door and sees my face.
I burst into tears.