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“Leave everything,” Ruby says, looking pleased. Harlow reaches over and takes Banks’s plate from his hands. “You two have a nice walk.”
Just as he had when he held out a hand for Sunday to take her seat at the table first, he holds out a hand for her to lead the way down the stairs and onto the sand. As they walk away from Ruby’s house, Sunday glances back at the candles flickering on the porch, and at the lights that shine brightly from inside the kitchen. There’s a warmth to Ruby and to her life that makes Sunday feel like a moth to a flame, and there have been moments during their friendship when she’s felt that she, Sunday Bellows Bond, is nothing but a rootless young girl searching for something to anchor her. But for Ruby, it seems to come so easily, in spite of the fact that she lost her father at such a young age. Everyone around her feels her calm, weighted presence, and this is something that Sunday has always loved about Ruby.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Banks says, walking along beside her at a leisurely pace. Ruby’s house fades into the distance behind them. The sun has set completely, and the moon is lighting their way.
Sunday stops to kick off her sandals so that she can carry them in her hand instead. “You know,” she says, standing upright again. “I was actually thinking about my friendship with Ruby.”
Banks nods as they start walking together again. His hands are in the pockets of his knee-length cargo shorts. “I’ve enjoyed watching you two together over the years.”
This surprises Sunday, though it shouldn’t. In her mind, Secret Service agents are always there, but they fade into the background. She’s not sure why she imagines that they tune out most of the personal conversation that goes on around them, but of course they wouldn’t. It’s only human nature to listen and observe, not to mention being the most important part of an agent’s job.
“I don’t think I could have survived in Washington without her.”
“Is that why you wanted to come down here? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Sunday thinks about this. She shifts her sandals to the hand furthest from Banks, and then her free hand brushes against his accidentally, sending a shiver of pleasure up her arm. “I wouldn’t say I came here because I don’t think that I could survive without her, no…”
“I didn’t really mean it like that,” Banks clarifies. “I guess more like, do you think you came down here because you two have become one another’s support systems, and maybe you feel like her getting settled on an unfamiliar island would be easier with her best friend by her side?”
Sunday frowns. “Could be. And now that you mention it, maybe my going through a divorce is a time when I feel, once again, like I need Ruby to lean on. But I never think of it that way,” she says firmly, turning to look up at him. “And I would never come here and intentionally be a burden on Ruby. Never.” Panic rises in Sunday’s chest at the thought of moving to Shipwreck Key and inadvertently cramping Ruby’s style with her neediness.
“Whoa,” Banks says, holding up a hand. “Stand down, soldier. I would never think for a minute that you were a burden on Ruby, nor would she think that. I can guarantee it. From where I stand, she's been infinitely happier here on the island since you and Harlow and Athena all joined her.”
Sunday releases a breath. “You’re right. She’s not like that. But I never asked her what she thought about me coming here, I just told her I was doing it.”
Banks chuckles. “That’s alright. It’s a free country and you’re a woman who can move about and do what she wants without permission.”
“Finally,” Sunday says quietly.
They walk in amiable silence for several paces.
“How does that feel?” Banks asks her, eyes looking ahead at the dark beach that unspools before them. “To finally be free?”
The sand is cool and damp under Sunday’s bare feet and she takes a second to feel it and appreciate it. “Well,” she finally says, her knuckles brushing against Banks’s again. “I guess first you’d have to know what it’s like tonotbe free.”
“Mmm,” Banks says noncommittally, which encourages Sunday to continue.
“I married Peter at twenty-two, and when I did, I had no idea that we were…incompatible, as it were.”
Banks clears his throat. “Ma’am, it’s well known that Mr. Bond dances at the other end of the ballroom, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Sunday bursts out in a loud, hearty laugh. “Oh, I must be getting old, Henry. That’s a new one.” Without warning, her laughter turns into unexpected tears.
“Sunday,” Banks says, reaching for her hand as he stops walking. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Sunday closes her eyes and shakes her head. She’s mortified. “God, Henry. It’s not you—please, don’t worry about it.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ve buried my feelings about my marriage pretty deep inside of me, and I think that every so often I just reach in there and hit a nerve or something. You know?” She sniffles again. “I know most of what Peter’s done, and what I don’t know I’m fine never hearing about. But there’s a little part of me that feels—I don’t know, humiliated? Yeah, humiliated. I feel ashamed when I realize thateveryoneknew what he was up to.”
“Well, not everyone,” Banks says in a reassuring tone. “I’m pretty sure my mom doesn’t know.”
This makes Sunday laugh again, and she’s grateful for the joke to lighten the mood. “On top of that, there’s the failure of going through a divorce.”
“Which I do understand,” Banks adds, still holding her hand in his warm one. He absentmindedly strokes the soft skin on the top of her hand with his thumb. “I felt like a huge failure when Denise and I split up. She got the house, the dog, and the car that was paid for, and I got to slink away with my tail between my legs.”
Sunday is watching him now, and he doesn’t shy away from the topic, which she admires. “Can I ask what what wrong?”
“You can ask, but I’m not sure I can even tell you. Actually,” he says, reconsidering. “I can. Denise never fully appreciated how much of your life you have to devote to the Secret Service. At various times she accused me of being in love with Ruby, which I’m not,” he clarifies quickly, “nor was I ever. And she also said ridiculous things about how I needed to get a life of my own because I was too tangled up in the First Family’s.”
“But that’s your job!” Sunday protests.
