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A moment later, I add:Wow, I can’t believe you’re really not even going to ring my doorbell. Chivalry’s truly dead, huh?
I stare at my phone with a wide grin, anticipating his response, and watch the three dots appear and disappear twice.
Finally, two messages come in quick succession. First, an angry-face emoji blowing steam out of the sides of his mouth. It’s only significant because we haven’t exchanged emojis since the never-discussed kissy-face-emoji incident.
Then:You’re lucky you’re cute.
The tidal wave of heat is swift and stunning. It takes two full breaths for the wave to ebb. When it does, I swallow the last drops of the tea Maeve sent me home with and check my reflection one final time. There’s still telltale color in my cheeks. At the last minute, I find a tube of mascara that hasn’t yet dried out and sweep it over my lashes to even out the look.
Tanya does a double take when I walk past the kitchen. She sets down her sandwich to give me an exuberant thumbs-up. “Wow, you look beautiful, Hope. I haven’t seen you wear makeup in ... ever, I think.”
The wide smile Logan was wearing turns strained as something unfamiliar crosses his expression. The knife he was using to slice tomatoes hovers in midair. “You ... are you going somewhere?” His voice cracks. His tone is unreadable, but his grief is unmissable.
“I’m just meeting a friend. For an errand.” My stomach knots. When did I become a person who has so little trouble spewing half lies?
“Oh,” he says. “You look ... good.”
“Thanks.” My gaze drops to Logan’s shoes—red Nikes, like Brandon always wore. Maybe they are Brandon’s.
“Hope, if it’s a date—” he starts, and I know what’s coming next. To Logan, I’m Brandon’s. To be anything else is to remind him that Brandon is gone.
“It’s not. I promise.” I lift my gaze, letting Logan see the truth. “I should go.”
They exchange one of those now-frequent private looks, and I’m out the door before the heartbreak in Logan’s expression devolves into something worse.
Mercifully, Will’s waiting inside his car, and I hurry in, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Logan and Tanya aren’t at the window. It should feel like a relief. Instead, it feels like an indictment.
18
WILL
The passenger door swings open, and Hope drops into the seat. A light floral scent fills the car as she pulls the door closed.
“Hello to you too,” I say, shutting down the sudden rush of pleasure rippling across every nerve ending. So much for no complications.
“I didn’t mean the slam—hectic morning,” she says, blinking rapidly, which usually suggests discomfort or dishonesty. In Hope, though, it’s hard to tell what it means. From the moment she challenged me on the roof-deck, she’s proven she’s not like many other people I’ve met before.
“Where to?”
“Brandon bought the necklace at a jewelry store in Newport. It had the store’s very distinctive emblem on the back. Maybe he brought it there to get it cleaned.”
The urge to point out how unlikely it is that a jewelry store would hang on to a necklace for two years melts away as I take in how Hope’s stress seems to dissolve with every turn we take out of her neighborhood.
“Do you think I’m crazy? Am I sending us on a fool’s errand?” The cautious optimism in her voice makes the urge disappear entirely.
“No, not crazy. We have to start somewhere. What’s the address?”
Waze gives us a driving time of forty-four minutes. It’s exactly enough time for me to tell her about the show I worked on in LA,The Burning, and how budget cuts and a new production director who wanted to take the network in a different direction got it taken off air, despite a cult following.
“Tell me more,” she insists. “I like hearing your stories. Adventure by association, or something.”
“I’ve been talking about myself for nearly the entire drive. You tell me something interesting, your adventures.”
“I haven’t really had any adventures.” Her gaze slides toward me.
“Why not?”
“Life. Brandon and I planned to adventure together, you know? We figured we’d graduate from high school and then travel. But then, his mom got sick, so we hung around and said we’d go after college. But then he started working for his father’s firm, and he couldn’t just leave. Years passed and ...” She inhales deeply. “Then he died, and everything just stopped.”
