She’d been angry with Jay that night at the villa, so she went to Tom. Not as his brother’s girlfriend, but as someone looking for…what? Revenge? Comfort? A distraction?
Tom never said the words outright, but I’d heard them in the silence between his sentences. In the details he skipped, how he’d looked away.
He didn’t need to say it. I’d already pieced it together.
I swallow hard, threading a lock of hair through my fingers.
Where is she now, Emily? Is she still with Jay? Did their marriage survive?
Tom hadn’t mentioned her when he’d talked about his family. What had happened to her?
She’d lost her son, that alone could destroy a person.
I add a small question mark beside her name and close the file. I don’t want to write down the rest of what Tom had told me. It somehow feels safer that way.
A yawn escapes me as I rub my temples. I doubt I slept three full hours. As expected, my thoughts had spun until the first light sneaked through the shutters.
At least my mornings are blocked out for Tom for the next few weeks, so I managed a couple of hours of sleep before Samira came by for her stitches.
I check my watch. Almost four.
Dinner’s still hours away. I’ve got time for a quick power nap before I meet him tonight.
I need to recharge. It’s always a delightful surprise which version of Tom will walk through that door.
Last night might have changed things.
Maybe philosophical Tom will show up again, the one who talks about the meaning of existence over a shared sunset. I could meet him there.
But just as easily, he might have crawled back into his shell and I’ll be dealing with irritated Tom, the one who snaps because he’s hurting, who insists he doesn’t need any of this, but still roams the resort to find me.
Logically, I know we’ve moved past that. He trusts me now.
All I can really hope for is progress.
Experience has taught me that after days like yesterday, sometimes you need to step back before you can move forward.
So, as I see it, this is Tom’s turning point. The only question is: what will he do with it?
I get up from my desk and head to the bedroom. I kick off my loafers and let myself drop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes.
Whatever version shows up, I’ll need my energy.
Chapter sixteen
Tom
The tropics are all fun and stuff, until it starts to rain. And when it rains? It bloody well chucks it down here.
One look out the window is enough to convince me. I’m not going anywhere. And that’s a problem, because I was about to get dinner.
Perhaps I can wait it out. Tropical showers don’t last long, right?
A sunbed flies past my window and thunder cracks overhead, turning the turquoise sea a ghostly white for a split second. A heartbeat later, I hear glass breaking somewhere in the distance.
This isn’t just a quick shower, it’s a full-on storm, and something tells me I’m stuck in my studio for the rest of the night.
A desperate knock yanks my head toward the door. My heart kicks. Yosh?
