My phone ring wakes me up the next morning. Greg calling to wish me a Happy New Year. “Sorry I didn’t call last night,” he says. “There was no reception at the chalet.”
“That’s okay, but I had a crappy night.” I tell him about Angus. “I’m hoping he’s better this morning.” I glance at the clock, wonder when the clinic opens.
“You and Sophie have to stay with me so I can protect you,” Greg says, his voice firm. “I’m taking the early ferry home. I can meet you at my house around noon.”
“You sure you want that?”
“You know I’m ready.” He leaves the rest unsaid. I’m the one who has doubts, and we both know it. I think about Marcus sleeping in the spare room. It feels good to be talking to Greg, reminds me how comfortable and easy it is to be around him. I don’t worry about what I’m saying or how I’m saying it. Maybe this will be a good test for us as a couple.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll pack some things.” I’ll tell Sophie when she wakes. She might not be thrilled about staying with Greg, but at least we’ll still be in Dogwood Bay.
I take a quick shower, pull on some leggings and a sweater. When I walk out into the kitchen, Marcus is already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. His clothes and hair are rumpled and he has a dark shadow on his jaw, but it just makes him look even more attractive. I have a twinge of doubt about agreeing to stay with Greg. Too late now.
“Good morning,” Marcus says. “Hope you don’t mind I made coffee.”
“Of course not.” I pour myself a cup. “Want to stay for breakfast?”
“I should probably get out of your hair, unless you want me to go to the clinic with you?”
“We’ll be okay. I don’t want to take up all your time.” We’re being so polite, which is odd. You’d think him spending the night would have made us closer as friends. Instead we’re tiptoeing around each other like complete strangers.
“It’s really no problem,” he says.
“If Angus is allowed to go home, we’ll probably take him straight to Greg’s.”
He looks up from his mug. “He’s back?”
“On his way. We’re going to stay at his house for a few days.”
“Oh.” He’s staring at me, but then he jolts his head as though snapping himself out of something, and says, “That’s good. I feel better knowing you’re safe.”
“Do you?” The words are out before I have a chance to think about them.
We’re looking at each other, his expression uncertain, as though he’s not sure what I’m really asking. I hold his gaze steady. His lips part. He’s going to say something. Then shuffling footsteps behind us. He looks over my shoulder. Sophie wanders into the kitchen. I take a step back, as though she caught us kissing. She gives me an odd look, then yawns.
“Can we go get Angus now?” she says.
“I’ll call the clinic soon.”
Marcus stands up. “I better get going.”
“I’ll walk you out.” At the door, I say, “Thanks for coming over last night.”
“Sure.” He steps out, then turns. “You tell Greg that if he lets anything happen to you, he’ll have to answer to me.” He’s smiling, but there’s tension around his eyes. Is it worry for me, or something else? I feel awkward, off balance, like the porch is tilting under my feet.
“I will.” I watch him drive away, then close the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SOPHIE
JANUARY 2017
“Your room has a great view,” Greg says. “You’ll see in a minute.”
I nod and try to look pleased, but I don’t like the way he says “your” room, as though I’m going to be staying here for long. He’s showing me around his house and Mom is along for the tour, but I know she’s been over to his place lots. I’m trying not to think about that. I mean, I’m happy she has a boyfriend, but the thought of my mom having sex is just too weird. This is the first time we’ve all spent the night in the same house. I’m really hoping the spare room is far away from his room or I’m going to have to keep earbuds in all night, just in case.
His house is in an older subdivision, two stories, with a robin’s-egg-blue bathroom, orange countertops in the kitchen, and an almond-colored fridge and stove, like it’s all out of some movie from the seventies. It smells like lemon polish and Windex and the carpet has vacuum lines. He must’ve cleaned up before we got here. Above the fireplace there’s a painting of a surfer standing with his board watching the waves, and he has some framed photographs of his family on the mantel. I drift past, glance at their faces. They look happy.
I’ll be sleeping upstairs at the end of the hall. The room is big, with a queen bed and windows that look out over his backyard. I wish Angus was with us—he’d love digging holes in all that snow—but he’s stuck at the clinic for another night. The bedding looks new, a deep purple duvet cover and pillowcases, and smells like fresh laundry detergent. I wonder if he bought it today and washed it already. There’s also a small TV on the dresser.