Page 48 of Neap & Spring

Roman glances over his shoulder at me. “Shocker. Want to talk about it?”

Where do I even start?

“She’s been avoiding me.” I watch my line disappear into the water, the small orange bobber floating on the surface.

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“We talked.” I grip the rod tighter. “It didn’t go well.”

Wesley shifts his weight with the rocking boat, tilting slightly. He’s watching me with that older brother look that says he’s putting pieces together and figuring shit out. “What happened?”

I stare out at the water. I squint at the horizon where the ocean meets the sky. I read the name of a passing boat. I look at anything and everything except the two of them.

“I told her about Sarah.” I say finally, catching them both staring at me out of the corner of my eye.

Roman’s rod clatters against the side of the boat as he twists to fully look at me. “You told her?”

“Yeah.”

“Cal —” He leaves his rod propped against the railing and walks over, sitting down on the cooler across from me. “What? Are you crazy? You don’t tell people about that.”

“I know.”

“Why?” Wesley asks from across the boat. “What made you tell her?”

I watch my bobber float on the surface instead of making eye contact. “She asked where the debt came from. She said the numbers didn’t make sense and she needed to know why to do her job.” I reel in a few feet of line. “So I told her.”

“And?” Roman presses.

“And then I asked her why she left and why she stopped cooking. And why she just disappeared five years ago.” I rush out, the words tasting bitter. “She wouldn’t tell me. She said it was complicated.”

Roman goes very still.

“Wait,” he says slowly. “You knew her outside of all this, right? From school?”

“Yeah.”

I can see it happening. His brain piecing it together before his eyes blow wide.

“You were in the same program?” he asks.

“What?”

“Paris. Le Cordon Bleu. She said you were in the same program.”

“Why does that —”

“Holy shit.” Roman stands up abruptly, pacing the small boat deck. “Holy shit. You used to talk about someone back when you first hired me. Some girl from culinary school you were obsessed with.”

My whole body tenses. “I wasn’t obsessed.” I say, but he isn’t listening. He’s too busy walking in a small circle, drawing imaginary red lines to the few bits of information he has.

“You never said her name,” he continues like I never spoke. He’s pacing back and forth, his bare feet slapping against the boat. “But you talked about her all the time. You said she was the only person who could keep up with you, and you talked all the time about how you competed for top of the class. You said she made you want to be better, and that’s why you cook as well as you do.” He stops his pacing and turns to look at me. “It’s her! Vivienne is her.”

I don’t answer. Every word I’ve ever learned is stuck in my throat.

“That’s why you never told me her name!” Roman says, his voice carrying across the water. “Because you were engaged to Sarah by then. And you couldn’t talk about being in love with someone else when you were planning a whole ass sham of a wedding.”

Wesley glances at me, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t say anything.