Chris rummages for glasses. “Drink?”
I nod. “Dirty martini. A hundred olives.”
“Ah, adrinkdrink.” He tosses a bag of chips at me. “Then, we have to eat, or we’ll be on the floor.”
The avocados we bought are perfectly ripe and creamy and a shade of green that is far more enticing than the dull hue I can get at home. I mix up the most delicious guacamole I’ve ever had. We stretch out on lounge chairs on the deck and eat mouthfuls of chips and dip as we stare, transfixed, at the ocean view.
“This is already the best Christmas ever,” I say.
“I’m glad you’re happy.”
I call Sabin, but it goes to voice mail, so I text him and tell him to get over here.
“He’s probably already on his way,” Chris says. “Let’s hope that fifty-year-old car he bought makes it.”
My stomach is all fluttery, and my body is full of anticipation while I wait for Sabin to get here. The martini does little to settle me down, and I nervously eat half of the bag of tortilla chips while I keep checking the clock.
Chris falls asleep in his chair, and I spend the next two hours getting increasingly annoyed with Sabin. I call him three more times and text him a picture of me frowning.
Nothing.
I change my clothes and leave Chris to sleep while I walk down to the water. I wade and dig my feet into the sand. We must have a private beach here because it’s beautifully quiet and soothing. There’s no way that Sabin won’t show up soon.
I call James and tell him how amazing the house is, and then I text Estelle and Eric pictures from my vantage point on the beach. This beach is totally different from the rocky shores of Maine, and it’s easy for me to get dreamy and euphoric as I lie in the sand, not caring that I’m getting wet. The water is not warm by any means, but I have my bathing suit on under my sundress, so I rip off the dress and dunk myself in. The shock of the cold kills any jet lag I was feeling, and I let out a jubilant yell when I break through the surface.
“You kook!” I hear from the deck above.
I whip my head around, expecting to see Sabin, but it’s Chris leaning over the railing.
“There’s a swimming pool here, you know!” he calls down.
“It’s not the same. I wanted real California ocean!” But I am shivering, so I run through the small waves and grab my dress from the sand. I check my phone.
Nothing.
I shield my eyes and look up at Chris. “Do you have a message from Sabin?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s pretty weird.”
I take the wide steps back up to the house and wrap up in a towel. “Have you called him?”
“Doing it right now,” he says. “Want another drink?”
I nod and wipe away salt water from dripping into my eyes. I brighten when I hear Chris talking in the kitchen. He must have finally reached his brother, so my heart lifts. Then, I realize the tone of the conversation is more serious than jovial.
I knot the towel over my bathing suit and poke my head inside. Chris has his back to me and is shaking a silver drink mixer with more force than necessary, slamming ice cubes and causing an echo through the cavernous first floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s done nothing but talk about seeing you since you left Maine, and you can’t get your ass up here? I don’t care if you’re busy. You knew we were getting in today, and you swore up and down that you had days off. It’sBlythe, for fuck’s sake. Why are you acting like she’s an imposition?” He cracks the shaker against the counter. “No, I’m not telling her shit. You talk to her and tell her yourself.”
“Chris,” I say calmly. Despite my now dashed hopes of seeing Sabin today, I don’t like to hear Chris spat with his brother.
He pivots and leans against the counter, throwing me an apologetic look.
“It’s okay.” I reach for his phone. “Sabe, you’re not coming over?”
“Listen, I’ve just got so much to do. Really crazy right now.”
Chris is staring at me, waiting to see how I’m going to react.
