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“I was wrong…why didn’t you tell me about the pills?”
“I-I was too scared to see you—”
“Go to Dr. Foster’s office—”
“I’m on the boat—”
“Fuck, we’re lifting off. I can’t talk.”
There was no sign of the Mercedes. “Where’s Ben?”
“Ben’s with you. What the hell? Fucking wait. Do not take off. Tell Jim, Laurence.”
“Excuse me, is this Gate 6, Dock 10?” I asked a staff member on the pier.
“What Gate? This is Dock 7.”
My jaw unhinged.What? No! Why would she lie to me?“Paul, I don’t know why, but Isabelle lied to me. She gave me the wrong directions for Ben.”
“What the fuck? Get off the boat and go to Dr. Foster’s office.”
“We can’t leave. I have someone still on the way who must board,” I called to the staff at the end of the ramp.
“Sorry, miss, everything is on schedule. Unfortunately, we can’t wait—”
“Then let me off.”
“Sorry.”
The staff continued removing the ramp.
I huffed. “I’ll be in Nantucket, Paul.”
His phone disconnected. Or did Paul hang up?No, he wouldn’t do that. But he doesn’t like talking about serious things over the phone.
Our conversation wasn’t over, and I didn’t know what I would tell him in person.
“Nadia!”
I heard Ben’s voice and saw him run toward the boat.
“Wait! Ben’s right there. Please can you stop for him to board?” I pointed to Ben, but the staffers had already removed the ramp.
“Then let me get off,” I pleaded again.
“It’s too late. Sorry, miss.”
I could only watch Ben stand on the pier as we left the port.
Istood by the railing, staring at the water as the yacht moved farther from land. Turning toward the deck, I gazed over the small crowd of partygoers dancing under a light show as the DJ blared house music from the platform above. A thin banner hanging from the rows of windows read, “Isabelle’s Swimwear Party.” But there was something else written in small print below it. I stepped forward to read it.Slosh.Cold liquid splashed my wedge sandals.
“Head’s up.” An older man with spiky gray hair and too much spray tan said to me and chuckled. He had his hands around a young woman who wore one of Isabelle’s polka dot bikinis.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
His gaze went straight to my boobs, and I instinctively zipped up my tracksuit.
“You’ve got great tits, sweetie. Show them off. We like that. Isn’t that right, cutie?” He pushed the girl’s buttocks to move them further down the deck.
