Of courseFinn didn’t remember our kiss. He hadn’t been there!
He’d ditched me.
That kiss wasn’t Finn’s. It was Cooper’s. And it always had been.
I guess Cooper hadn’t told me the truth about that day at first because he thought I’d be embarrassed. And even when I kept going onand on about imprinting on my first kiss, Cooper didn’t know it wasthatkiss I’d been talking about.
No wonder he’d been so shocked when he found out. And then Finn showed up after the talent show and dragged me off as Cooper tried to stop us and tell me—but I chose Finn over him? And then Cooper thought I slept with Finn under the influence of false information?
Cooper had every right to be horrified by it all.
Technically, the person I should have been chasing all this time was Cooper.
Not that he would have wanted me to chase him, necessarily—but he was definitely robbed of some proper credit.
And what a near miss on Finn! Good thing he had a terrible personality and a texting addiction, or I might have slept with him for no reason.Whew!
Though, it had been an honest mistake on my part.
I’d been blindfolded, after all. Andten years old.
And Cooper wasn’t exactly perfect, either. I got that he might’ve been frustrated by the way everything unfolded, but was it really worth leaving the ship over? Quitting the wedding? Abandoning his post as my duet partner? Didn’tgiving up on me foreverseem a little extreme? Couldn’t he give me, like, amomentof grace to absorb this huge new twist in my life story before ditching me?
And don’t get me started on Cooper’s deeming Bridesmaid Two sock-worthy.
I mean,come on. Unforgivable.
There was no excuse for Bridesmaid Two—in any situation.
I WALKED THEstreets of Bishop’s Cay for two hours that morning, scanning for Cooper and trying to clear my head.
The town was the epitome of beachy charm. Quaint buildings in bright colors, a little marina full of painted boats, and lush flowering plants everywhere you cared to rest your gaze: vinca, and parakeet flower, and bougainvillea.
It had lots of good things. Just not Cooper.
Was he gone already? Or might he have booked a hotel room to grab a quick nap after staying up all night with the worst person in the world? Or was he, perhaps, doing a little sightseeing to kill some time? Hadn’t there been an abandoned lighthouse on Bishop’s Cay that he’d wanted to go explore?
Anybody’s guess, I guess. Since he wouldn’t answer his phone.
I’d walked most of the streets, and I’d bought a straw hat and some extra sunscreen, and I’d paused at a sidewalk café near the edge of town for some conch fritters, before I saw a wooden sign pointing toward a trail that readBISHOP’S LIGHTHOUSE 1 MILE.
Could Cooper be there?
I tried to call him but: straight to voicemail. Again.
I decided to walk the trail. Maybe he’d be there, or maybe not. Either way, I’d get to see an abandoned lighthouse. And it was the best lead on Cooper I had.
The path was a hiking trail down the center of a peninsula—a sandy ribbon worn down by many visitors. There were tall palm trees above, rustling in the wind. As I walked, I had this rising feeling like something was about to happen. And I went ahead and let myself hope that it might be something good.
SOMETHING WAS ABOUTto happen. I read that right.
But it wasn’t something good.
As I walked, I started noticing the sound of feet on the path behind me. For a while, I thought it must be another friendly sightseer, like me. But then… that sightseer threw a pebble at the back of my head.
I felt a sting out of nowhere, and I put my hand to my head and turned around.
And it turned out to be Pork Pie.
