Rowan traced her finger around the top of the wineglass. “I honestly don’t know,” she said in a faraway voice. “I feel like she’s a stranger these days.”
“I know.” Corinne swallowed hard. “First we lose Poppy . . . and then we lose who we thought Poppy was. I feel like I have to revise my whole history with her.” A tortured look crossed her face, but then she sighed and seemed to let it go. She glanced down at the iPad again and smiled sadly at something on the screen. “Aw.”
Rowan looked down too. The next photo was of James. He stood alone on the patio at Meriweather, wearing a seersucker blazer. Rowan remembered that blazer—shortly after he’d booked the house that summer, he’d arrived at her apartment in the city with a Brooks Brothers bag. “Do people really dress like this up there? Or am I going to look like a douche?”
Rowan had snorted. “You’re asking me for style advice?”
James snickered. “Good point, Saybrook. You’re as hopeless as I am.” But he’d shot her a twinkly-eyed look as if to say, We’re in this together.
She grabbed her phone from her purse and checked the screen. She’d sent James an I-miss-you text earlier, but he hadn’t responded. Skylar had a parent-teacher conference tonight, and she wanted to hear how he was doing.
“You know, I really am happy for you,” Corinne murmured softly.
Rowan looked up and touched her cousin’s hand. “Thank you. But you don’t have to be. I know it’s strange.”
Corinne shrugged. “In the grand scheme of things, after everything else we’ve learned, it’s nothing.” She touched the stem of her wineglass. “Have there been any more posts about . . . the video online?”
Rowan shook her head. “No, but I still don’t understand who could have gotten it off my computer,” she said worriedly.
Corinne nodded. “Do you think it was someone at work?”
“Maybe,” Rowan said. “But . . .” Then she trailed off, noticing something outside. A man had walked by who looked exactly like James. Same height, same build, same color of hair. Only Skylar’s school was way uptown. She must have been mistaken.
But then she caught sight of him again in the windows along the west wall of the building. It was definitely James. His head was down, and he was typing something into his phone. On instinct Rowan looked at her own phone, anticipating a text, but one didn’t arrive.
“What is it?” Corinne asked, noticing that Rowan had hitched forward to get a better view.
James had stopped and was staring at something across the street. He took a few steps forward, past where the window reached, seemingly toward someone. A smile spread across his face. Rowan’s skin prickled. She recognized that smile.
She rose from the table, bumping her knee against the bottom. “Where are you going?” Corinne cried out.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” Rowan called over her shoulder. She would just walk out the door and see who it was. For all she knew, it was Skylar; maybe she’d misunderstood where he was tonight.
She brushed past the bar and stepped through the double doors onto the street, almost bumping into a quick-moving businessman going the other direction. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she walked to the corner and peered up the street, but James was no longer there. Rowan hesitated, then strode a few paces up the street; maybe he’d disappeared around a corner. She scanned the shops on the avenue: a dingy deli, a Duane Reade drugstore, and one of those New York frame shops that sold the same five Monet prints.
And then there he was, standing at the entrance of Dream Downtown. A dark-haired woman in a sleeveless dress held his hand, and the two of them walked toward the revolving doors. Rowan’s stomach flipped. As the woman tilted her head toward him and brushed a piece of hair out of her face, Rowan realized she knew her too. It was Evan Pierce. Corinne’s wedding planner. Poppy’s friend.
Rowan was suddenly next to them without having known how she got there. Evan looked over first. “Oh!” she said pleasantly. “Hello, Rowan.”
James stopped short at the sound of her name. He dropped Evan’s hand, but didn’t move away from her. “Rowan,” he said, his voice taut. “Shit.”
They had stopped right in front of the revolving door; a stream of people had to squeeze around them to get into the building. But Rowan couldn’t move out of the way. “You’re not with Skylar” was the only thing she could think to say. She hated how weak her voice sounded.
James stepped forward. “I know. But I can explain.”
Rowan drew away from his touch. Evan crossed her arms over her chest, studying James quizzically. “Is everything all right?”
But Rowan kept her gaze on James. “Okay, then. Explain.” Maybe they were here for a business meeting. Maybe Evan wanted to create a wedding-planning app. Maybe . . .