“He sounds perfect, dear.Ifhe’s willing to get here by eight tomorrow morning, of course.”
“Of course,” Francis echoed. He stepped back from the mirror and kissed Lila’s cheek.
His cologne, Tom Ford’s Soleil Brûlant to be exact, washed over her. Lila closed her eyes. It was black honey, amber, and wood with an edge of smoke. It was the scent of a younger man who dreamed of making riches and chasing storms. Of getting the famous Lila Logan’s hand in marriage.
Lila reached up and caught his collar before he could pull away. She twisted it in her hand, enjoying the feel of it. “The children are in bed,” she told him. It didn’t matter if that were true or not.
Francis leaned closer again, breath against her earlobe. She wondered if she still smelled like bellflower and cherries to him, if he even thought about the way she smelled at all. His lips brushed her neck. He still hadn’t shaved from when she’d told him to earlier.
Lila tilted her face to better see the two of them together in the mirror. After all these years they were still absolutely divine side by side. Some things never changed.
But the pearl necklace...
“So. Eisenhardt Jeweler on Worth Avenue? Doesn’t seem like your kind of place, darling.”
Your move.
They watched each other in the mirror. Francis lifted a hand to cup her chin. His jaw tickled her ear as he spoke at last.
“I have to make that phone call.” He unwound her fingers from his shirt and stepped out of reach.
Then he was gone.
Lila gazed back at herself, alone in the mirror. Francis had been looking for something. He knew she knew that. He hadwantedher to know.
There had been a time when Lila would have given anything to understand her husband. She still wanted to. But it had become clearer that Francis was less interested in knowing her than he was in playing these sorts of games. A decade ago when a topless photograph of Lila went viral, she had found a set of expensive bras gift-wrapped on her pillowcase. Another time, she’d gone out for a cast party at a Thai restaurant and forgot to tell Francis where she was. When she returned, he’d only asked offhandedly if there’d been scallions in the crab rangoons. But even games lost their intrigue rather quickly, in his eyes. When Lila first became famous, she had thought she’d made it, that she would forever be famous enough, befascinatingenough, to sustain public interest—and Francis’s. Now she knew there was an unknown count limit to everything in life.
How many times can your name be in the newspaper before people get sick of reading it?
How many wrinkles can your face collect before people stop calling you beautiful?
How many kisses can you give your husband before he no longer feels the burn to kiss you back?
Lila listened to the empty room, letting her fingers dance over her filigree hand mirror and Francis’s badger-hair shaving brush sitting idle on the counter. She picked up one of her favorite lipsticks—Orchid Noir—and considered putting it on. There was no real reason to do it, no event she would be attending anytime in the next eight days. But it would make her look and feel like herself.
She uncapped it just as her children’s voices sounded out above. So theyweren’tin bed.
“MJ!” Tia cried, bursting with excitement. “You’re early!”
Lila let out a long, movieworthy sigh and recapped the lipstick tube. Of course serious, stalwart, Southern Mary Jane Tuckett would be early. Alejandro and the twins could get her settled, Lila decided. She was going to take a long, luxurious bath on this last night where the ocean’s rocking wouldn’t disturb her every step.
This was the time for fine things, Lila mused as steam misted the mirrors and clouded the bathroom air. She unclasped her earrings and set them on the counter.
Lila steeped herself in the water and tried to summon enthusiasm for tomorrow instead of the dreadful understanding that clung to her skin like steam. Whatever games Francis wanted to play, Lila would play with him. It was the dance they did, the one that kept their marriage entertaining. Besides, Lila didn’t have the kind of secret that would show up in a credit card statement.
Lila’s secret was the kind she’d take to her grave.
Chapter 5
Jerry Baugh
For the first time in twenty-eight years, Jerry dreamed of his dead brother. Steve Baugh, professional sailor, champion swimmer, and Jerry’s best friend, had been two weeks shy of his thirtieth birthday when he drowned.
In the dream, JerrywasSteve, and the ocean moved around him like a washing machine, keeping his body inside it. He could still catch glimpses of his ship—Steve’s ship—as it bucked and dipped and drew farther and farther away.
Jerry had wondered his entire life how long it had taken his brother to die and the best estimation he could come up with was long. Very, very long. Steve was strapping and strong, a damn good swimmer, and an optimist to boot.
The nightmare lasted eons, all while Jerry swallowed more water and swam for his life, for his brother’s life.
