Page 56 of Old Flames

Vicky nudged Jules forward with the pushiness of a stage mom. “You go first.”

Jules held out her palms. “I’ve done this before in Brooklyn,” she said. “There’s nothing to see here.”

“Are you talking about that one time with the girl who sells vintage Levi’s?” Vicky asked. “It doesn’t count!”

Mallory swept her gaze over Jules’s outstretched hands. “What did she say about your double simian lines?”

“What about it?” Jules asked. She had no idea what Mallory was talking about.

“It’s striking.”

From the sidelines, Ayesha plugged Jules’s unasked question into a search engine. “It means your heart and your head lines are merged into one. Basically, you have one less line than the average person.”

“That’s always been the case,” Jules said. “I’m a writer with a one-track mind. I know it.”

“It’s more than that,” Mallory said. “You’re focused, intense, and ambitious. That’s for sure. But there’s like a twister in your soul. People like you have a spiritual mission, a destiny to fulfill.”

A spiritual mission? A destiny?

Jules balled her hands into fists and drew them to her chest. She felt exposed. In grad school, their creative writing professors would urge them to pay attention only to critiques that resonated with them on some level or another. This reading resonated on all levels, heart, mind, and soul—and it left her shaking.

“That’ll be twenty bucks,” Mallory said.

Vicky found her wallet and handed over two twenties. “That was enlightening, Mallory, but we’ll be going. Keep the change.”

20

Leo and Sebastien were at the frozen beverage stand, the noonday sun hard on their backs. Matty had taken off to a nearby pharmacy to pick up a fresh razor and other supplies, leaving them alone. While Leo stirred his frozen lemonade, it occurred to him that he hadn’t exchanged more than a few words, one on one, with Sebastien since they’d arrived. Which sucked because he liked the guy.

“How are you holding up?” Leo asked him.

That business of his fiancé showing up unannounced was just one other wild thing that happened in Key West when really, the man’s world had collapsed.

Sebastien took a long sip of his frozen mojito. “Not great. How about you?”

“Me?”

“You and Jules,” Sebastien specified.

“What about us?” Leo asked.

“You know . . . the tug-of-war. It’s clear as day.”

“There’s no war. A string of battles, maybe, but it’s over.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it—”

Leo stopped him. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Why is it that straight men can’t express themselves?” Sebastien asked. “Why are you all so repressed?”

“I resent that! The New York Times says I have startling emotional clarity.”

“Forget the Times!” Sebastien balked. “I’m standing right here, and you can’t string three words together.”

“Because it’s complicated.”

“Quick! Do you love her?”