“But I haven’t seen you in days,” he murmured. “Come on. There’s this ice-cream place on Bainbridge Island that makes the best dulce de leche. I’ll buy you a cone. I’ll buy you ten cones.” He paused for a moment. “I really miss you.”
Mac’s heart jumped. How long had she wanted him to say something just like that? She glanced at Julie, covering the phone with one hand.
“Actually, can you finish this without me?”
Julie nodded. “Sure.” Mac was glad Julie didn’t ask her why.
Mackenzie moved her hand and talked into the phone again. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
The pier was bustling when she arrived forty-five minutes later. Lines of commuter cars waited to get on board while tourists posed in front of Puget Sound to take pictures. Gulls squealed shrilly, wheeling overhead and diving toward the current. The sun faded and then grew brighter as wispy clouds moved across it, the light changing every few minutes like someone was playing with a dimmer that controlled the weather.
Blake met her next to the ferry’s ticketing booth, his shaggy hair curling from the bottom of a black knit cap. She awkwardly raised her hand in greeting.
He looked half surprised she’d actually shown up, like he’d just won a contest or something. Then he leaned down and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
They walked up the long stairs and boarded. The observation deck wasn’t very crowded—a large group of retirees in matching Windbreakers peered out through binoculars, and a thin girl wearing loose hemp pants sat on a bench hugging her knees, but otherwise they were alone. The ferry’s horn blared across the water as it pushed off. Behind them, Seattle’s skyline spread out in panorama.
“I love boats,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Even in the middle of winter sometimes I’ll come out here. I’m usually the only one on the observation deck during a freezing rain. Everyone smart is in the galley drinking hot cocoa.”
“Have you ever been to the San Juan Islands?” Mackenzie asked. When he shook his head, she went on. “My parents have a cottage up there. We go every summer. Well, we used to. Now, between me and my sister, we have too many competitions and rehearsals to take a month off.” She smiled, remembering the little salt-stained house on the shore. “My dad used to take us sailing every morning. I loved that.”
They stood side by side in silence for a few minutes, watching the ferry cut through the water. Ocean spray lightly flecked her face. The wind had a cold bite to it, and she was glad she’d worn her vintage peacoat.
“Look,” he said, pointing out at the water. “Whales.” She turned to see a handful of graybacks slicing through the water. Her eyes widened as a huge gray fin breached suddenly out of the water before slapping back down and disappearing. The retirees at the railing gasped with pleasure. A second whale popped its head up out of the water and eyed the ferry beadily.
Mackenzie turned to Blake, but before she could say anything, he blurted, “I broke up with Claire.”
Mackenzie blinked. “You . . . what?”
“Last night. I told her we were through.”
Mackenzie clung to the railing, her limbs suddenly limp and heavy. Maybe that was why Claire hadn’t been in symphony. She was probably at home, crying her eyes out. A teensy part of her felt bad for her friend, especially coupled with what she’d found out from Ava—that Nolan might have blackmailed Claire, too. But then she remembered once more how Claire had lied to Blake about her and then stolen Blake away.
“Did you have a fight?”
He shrugged. “Not really. But like I told you, this was a long time coming.” He stared at the water. “I didn’t tell her about us, just so you know. The last thing I want is to mess up your friendship.”
Mackenzie took her glasses off and wiped water droplets off the lenses. “Honestly, our friendship is pretty messed up as it stands.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what kind of friends constantly hope for each other to fail?” She shrugged. “We compete over everything. Even you.”
Blake’s cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry I got between you guys.”
“If it hadn’t been you, it would have been something—or someone—else. Sometimes I wonder if I even really know her.”
“You know what she said when I broke up with her?” Blake said. “That I’d come crawling back to her soon enough.”
Mac shivered. “Really?” But then she looked down. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise her. Claire bulldozed anyone who was in her path or caused her pain; she always got what she wanted. It was probably why she would get the Juilliard spot and Mac wouldn’t. After all, Mac was the one here, when Claire was probably practicing. Her heart lurched. Was Blake worth her sacrificing that? Was her head in the right place?
But when she looked at him again, she thought that maybe it was. “How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice soft.