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“See it?” I ask, pointing down.
He peers over the edge. “I see something. Wait? Is that…?”
He lies facedown on the rock. I stay where I am. I don’t trust my eyes right now. Not my eyes or my judgment.
“Whatever it was, it went under the overhang,” he says. “I can’t see it.”
“Did it look like…?”
He meets my eyes and nods grimly.
I wrap my arms around my chest. “Are we sure?”
He shakes his head.
“What do we do about it?” I ask.
He peers down again. “There’s some stuff snagged on the rocks. I can get to it safely, I think.”
“You think? Or you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” He manages a smile for me. “No more polar dips today. If I can retrieve it, I will. If not, I’ll come back up.”
He means that. He might have swum out in freezing water to rescue me, but he’s not going to take that risk to answer a question. Unlike his ex-wife, who paddled out in a storm to answer hers.
I still worry as he climbs over the edge. I lie down and plaster myself to the rock, my head and shoulders over the edge to watch his descent.
If he slipped and fell in, would I dive after him?
Absolutely.
That’s love, and I still love him. I always will love him. It shouldn’t be that way. Something as brief as our marriage should die like a roman candle. One blaze of glory, imprinted on the retina for a few moments and then fading. This wasn’t that. This was a flash fire, and I am scarred for life, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
That’s the bitch of it, isn’t it? I got hurt. Hurt so damn bad, and I don’t care. Give me the chance, and I’d do it again. So yes, if he slips, there is no question what I’ll do, just as there’d been no question what he’d do. Does that mean he still loves me? I think so, and that should matter. But it’s not always enough, asfuckingunfair as that is.
Kit pauses to shoot me a thumbs-up and a grin, and I lift my face to let the wind freeze-dry my tears before I return the smile. Our eyes meet.
Love you, Kit. I always will. And that’s okay. I’ll deal with it. I’ll live with it. I have to.
I let my gaze hold his long enough that he won’t think I’m pulling away, upset. Then I focus on scanning the rocks below. I know what I’d seen. We both did. There was no mistaking it. A bright pink carry-on suitcase, smacking into the shore below before disappearing under the rocks. There’s a tiny cave under the rocky overhang. That’s where it’ll be, but there’s no getting it now without going into the water. Instead, Kit heads for what looks like a piece of clothing thrown onto higher rocks.
He finally reaches his target and disentangles the piece of black and red fabric. He pulls back to a safer spot, and shakes out the piece. Then his hands run over it, as if trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It’s torn and soaking wet, but I know what it is long before he does.
Panties.
A pair of fancy lingerie ones, the sort you don’t wear for everyday. The sort you wear for a lover.
Yesterday, I’d watched Sadie wheel that bright pink suitcase up to the house. Now it is down below. I know it is, even if we both wanted to be sure.
Her suitcase.
Her panties.
Panties she brought in hopes that she might need them. That Kit would turn to her for comfort, as he had once before.
I should see that lingerie and be furious. She came tomyisland hoping to hook up withmyex? Or I should laugh. Seriously, Sadie? You thought Kit would do that?
When Kit realizes what they are, he almost drops them, fumbling before wadding them up and stuffing them in a pocket. Thatshouldmake me laugh. His expression should.
