Livia was practically skipping down the dock toward the white rental boat. Rhys went by me after Dane, and my body forgot the small matter of walking. I stopped short, then made myself keep moving.
He’d been on the back deck when I came downstairs that morning, already dressed, hair still damp. At some point in the night he must have come in and slipped out again before I woke. Since then we’d managed a careful dance of not speaking unless we had to.
Bianca halted to fish a packet of motion-sickness tablets from her bag. “Want one?”
“Did you bring those just for me?” I asked. “I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for remembering floss.”
She lifted one shoulder. “They’re for the drive. I can’t read in the car without getting sick.”
Rhys stepped aboard and offered Bianca his hand. When he turned to help me, I pretended not to see. I hopped down on my own. A wake rolled under the hull, buckling my knees. Rhys caught me around the waist. His chest pressed against mine, his hips against mine, and the contact was about three trillion times worse than taking his hand.
“You all right?”
“Mm!” I said, with all the eloquence I could manage.
Bianca settled onto a padded bench. “Where are we going, exactly?”
Livia had taken the helm while Dane moved around the boat, loosening the lines. I assumed that was what he was doing. My knowledge of boats came mostly from one memorable evening when I was high enough to think I understood them.
“Wherever the wind takes us,” Dane called.
“So we’re going to die,” Bianca said.
“Maybe,” Livia replied. “But first we’ll see puffins and harbor seals.”
Dane freed the last line. The breeze eased us away from the dock. Salt thickened in the air as Livia turned us toward open water.
At the stern, Rhys watched the harbor recede. His shirt lifted in the wind, offering a brief view of his lower back and arms before falling into place again.
The clouds broke. Sunlight caught in Livia’s dark hair and on her matching white halter and shorts. Dane joined her at the wheel in white linen, looking as if he’d wandered out of a luxury-ad campaign. Together they might have been movie stars on a glossy travel shoot.
I looked like a camp counselor who’d been left in charge until the last day of summer. It wasn’t far from how I felt.
“I think the itinerary could have been clearer about what ‘comfortable’ meant,” I told Bianca.
Livia glanced back, delighted. “You actually read it!”
Bianca leaned toward me. “Oh, Mara. Livia can’t help being most comfortable in designer clothes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Livia said. “This is couture.”
Jules dropped onto the opposite bench. “You wore that on a boat?”
Rhys took the seat beside her. I tipped my head toward him. “So did Rhys.”
It was our first direct look of the day. I could feel my swimsuit disintegrating beneath my clothes.
“Really?” Jules asked him. “I didn’t know you were fancy.”
His eyes caught mine for a beat before he turned to her. “Only my briefs.”
“Well, you’re all overdressed,” Jules said. “The itinerary said comfortable. If you wanted to be comfortable, you’d be wearing what I am: nothing under these clothes.”
“Hard to argue with that,” Dane said.
Livia stared at him. “You’re not wearing underwear?”
“What, it’s fine for Jules but not for me?” Dane dropped onto the bench beside Rhys.
“You’re wearing white pants thin enough to read through,” Rhys said.
Dane covered himself with both hands, then gave up. “Whatever. Everyone here has seen me naked at some point.”
“I actually haven’t,” Jules said, considering this.
“Well, Jules,” Dane told her, “today could be your lucky day.”
Rhys’s gaze found mine again. Something in my chest started up like an engine.
• • •
We threaded between the little islands off the coast, passed two lighthouses, and stopped for excited pictures when the first seals appeared on the rocks. Soon there were seals everywhere, sprawled in the sun as if they owned the place.
“Quick,” Jules said to Bianca. “Help me catch one. I’m taking it home.”
“I’m no expert in wildlife law,” Dane said, “but I’m guessing that’s illegal.”
“Sure, but there are higher laws about adorable whiskered faces needing kisses.” Jules leaned over the rail toward a seal scratching its back on a rock—or perhaps trying to right itself. “And adopting a seal was my secret goal for this trip.”
“Sometimes loving something means letting it go,” Bianca said, squeezing her shoulder.
I made an effort not to look at Rhys.
“You’re a good boy!” Jules called to the seal as we pulled away. “Or girl. Or whatever!”
Around lunch, we tied up at one of the small summer islands and picked our way over its rough shore. Horseshoe crabs darted through the cloudy shallows.
“These things give me the creeps,” Dane said.
“They look prehistoric,” Rhys said. He leaned over me to get a better look, his hands settling lightly at my elbows. His scent moved with the breeze, close enough to make it hard to think.
“I love them,” Bianca said.
“I’ll let you bring one home,” Jules told her, “if we go back for my seal.”
“Sorry, babe. We don’t have room for that kind of responsibility.”
“If life is too hectic for your best friends to visit,” Livia said, “you don’t have time to start a horseshoe-crab sanctuary.”
“Would you quit picking at me?” Bianca said.
Livia’s eyes widened. “I was joking.”
“Well, it isn’t funny.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
Bianca turned and started up the shore toward the tangled woods. Livia looked at Jules, who shook her head.
“She’s under a lot of pressure right now,” Jules said. “Give her a break.”
It was the closest I’d ever heard Jules come to scolding Livia. She followed Bianca up the path before Livia could answer.
Livia faced the water, arms folded. Her shoulders stayed square, but she shook her head once, with a laugh that sounded tired and hurt at the same time.
“Maybe we should eat,” I said.
“Good idea,” Dane agreed, as eager as I was to smooth things over.
“I’ll get the picnic basket.” I picked my way across the kelp-strewn rocks toward the boat, kicked off my sandals, and climbed aboard.
“What was that about?” Rhys asked behind me.
I turned. He was walking down the dock. Onshore, Livia and Dane were talking animatedly. Bianca and Jules were already partway through the woods, partly hidden by the dark pines and yellow-green leaves.
“From what I’ve gathered, Livia wants an invitation to the farm, and Bianca’s annoyed she’s angling for one.” I looked away before his nearness could get under my skin. “Jules is annoyed at Livia for annoying Bianca.”
“And where do we fit in?”
“I could get annoyed at Jules for being annoyed, then you could get annoyed at me.”
“You never annoy me.”
I looked up. He was watching me.
A breathless laugh escaped. “We both know that isn’t true.”
He considered that, brow drawn. “You frustrate me sometimes. That’s different.”
“How?”
His eyes dropped to my legs, then returned to my face. “When you’re annoyed, you don’t want to be near someone.” His chin shifted, almost a shake of his head. “I always want to be near you.”
I wanted to list the moments that proved otherwise. Instead, I stood there, unable to find the words. I could remember the name of a brain tract and what it did; I couldn’t make my mouth work.
“Let me get that,” he said, reaching for the cooler.
“I can do it.” I lifted it against my shins.
“Mara.”
I shuffled sideways.
He laughed. “Are we doing this again?”
“Doing what?”
“Fighting over every little thing.” The sun made him squint. “Is this a fight?” I asked.
“Compared with the rest of our relationship, it’s a full-scale battle.”
I glanced toward the shore. Dane had put an arm around Livia as they climbed the weathered steps toward the woods. Bianca and Jules were further along the path. I had an urge to run after them, to volunteer as mediator.
“Don’t,” Rhys said gently.
I turned back, my lower back aching. “Don’t what?”
“Go after them.” He moved a little closer.
“Why not?”
He took the cooler from my hands and set it on the bench. “Because we’re talking.”
“Brawling, you mean.” His mouth twitched.
“Shouldn’t we be done fighting now that we’re broken up?”
His expression changed. “Mara, we never fought when we were together. If we had…”
He stopped before finishing the thought, but I felt the blow anyway.
A horn sounded from shore, three sharp blasts. Neither of us looked away. Wanting him was there between us, plain and painful.
“Damn it,” he said, shaking his head. “I hate not touching you.”
I looked away. My heart felt raw. If only he’d felt this way sooner. If only I knew what had gone wrong, how I’d lost him. If only I believed there was a way to mend it. He wasn’t the only one who’d made choices that couldn’t be undone, and going back over them would only hurt more.
The horn sounded again. I cleared my throat. “You get the cooler. I’ll take the basket.”
He nodded, once, then again. He lifted the ice chest and turned away.