“I’m okay,” Maia says.

“Oh yeah? Really? I’d say you’re better than okay. I’d say you’re the coolest young lady on the whole island.” He winks at her. “And of course, the prettiest.”

Maia fist bumps him. “Facts.”

This makes Mick laugh. He turns to Ayers. “Yeah, I’d say she’s okay. Self-esteem fully intact.”

“What are you doing here?” Ayers asks. Without thinking about it, she finds herself rubbing Gordon’s sweet bucket head, and he closes his eyes in ecstasy. Gordon feels about Ayers the way Maia feels about Mick: pure devotion.

“Hangry,” Mick says. He devours his slice in three bites and reaches over to take what’s left of Ayers’s slice, and she lets him. “I have to be at work in an hour.”

Right, Ayers thinks. The only other people who eat at three thirty in the afternoon? Everyone in the restaurant business.

“So how was your date last night?” Mick asks.

“What date?” Maia asks Ayers.

“Friend of mine, Baker,” Ayers says. “We went to dinner.”

“I call shenanigans,” Mick says. “I swung by De’ Coal Pot. You weren’t there and you hadn’t been there. I asked.”

“We went somewhere else,” Ayers says.

“Where?” Mick says.

“Who’s Baker?” Maia asks. “Do I know him?”

“You don’t,” Ayers says. “He’s visiting.”

“He’s a tourist,” Mick says.

Maia tilts her head. “I thought you didn’t date tourists.”

“There’s an exception to every rule,” Ayers says.

“So you’re dating that guy, then?” Mick asks. “Seriously? He looks like… a banker.”

Ayers throws back what’s left of her wine. Oh, how she would love to order another, but she can’t. She has to drive all the way across the island to Scoops, and then drive home.

“He’s taking me to Caneel Bay tomorrow. The hotel. Overnight.”

Mick cocks an eyebrow. “Really? So he is a banker.”

“None of your business,” Ayers says.

“Are you jealous?” Maia asks Mick. “Do you still love Ayers?”

“Maia!” Ayers says.

“Yes,” Mick says. He turns to Colleen and orders a pizza—the pepperoni and ham, which Ayers could have predicted. Mick is a devout carnivore. “Yes, I do still love Ayers.”

“Mick, stop,” Ayers says.

“Do you really?” Maia asks.

“Yes, I do, really.”

“Oh,” Maia says. “I thought you broke up with her.”

“I did something wrong and Ayers broke up with me,” Mick says. “I made a huge mistake and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But just because I made that mistake doesn’t mean I don’t still love Ayers.”

“Love is messy,” Maia says. “My mom used to tell me that. She said love is messy and complicated and unfair.” Maia rolls her eyes. “I’ll take a no-thank-you helping.”

Mick laughs again, and Ayers asks Colleen for a box to take the rest of Maia’s pizza to go.

“On that note,” Ayers says. “We’re leaving.”

“Ayers…,” Mick says.

Ayers bends down to kiss Gordon between the eyes. Then she turns to Maia. “Ready for ice cream?”

“Facts,” Maia says.

CASH

He is so juiced about taking Baker by surprise with the arrival of Anna and Floyd that he has ignored the fact that they will have another situation on their hands.

That situation is named Irene.

But first, first, Cash takes a moment to savor Baker’s shock and obvious discomfort at seeing his wife and son. He looks caught. He is caught. The only thing better would have been if Ayers had come with Baker to the bar. But no—that would be cruel to Floyd. Cash will avoid compromising Floyd at all costs. He’s learning what it’s like to be the son of a philanderer.

If it were only Floyd who had arrived unexpectedly, the scene would have been touching indeed. Floyd grabs Baker around the legs and Baker, although seeming disoriented at first, squeezes Floyd tight, kisses the boy on the cheek, then squeezes him again. Cash has to admit: Baker is a good dad, very open with his affection, just like Russ used to be.

Baker and Floyd go down to look at the water, and Cash turns to Anna. She seems different here, on the island. Her hair is down and she’s into her second margarita, so she is super-relaxed. Has Cash ever seen Anna relaxed? Maybe once, when she and Baker came to Breckenridge, but that time, Cash remembers, she had turned her hyper-competitive nature toward skiing. She was faster than Baker and more technically sound than Cash, and she had taken great pride in her superior speed and prowess. Now, she is only competitive about her margarita drinking, and Cash can get behind that—especially since Irene, who is unaware of Anna and Floyd’s arrival, waits at home.

“Floyd missed him,” Anna says to Cash. “It wasn’t until Baker left that I realized how much he does—the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, the laundry. He coaches Floyd’s basketball team, takes him to chess club on Sundays, and he’s on the fund-raising committee of Floyd’s school, so the phone kept ringing with people donating things for a silent auction that I knew nothing about. I haven’t given him nearly enough credit.”

“He told me you left him,” Cash says. He eyes his own second margarita, half gone.

“Am leaving,” Anna says. “I told him just seconds before your mother called with the news.”

“Ah,” Cash says. He finds he’s disappointed that Baker was telling the truth. “It’s a… colleague of yours?”

“Louisa,” Anna says. She raises a palm. “Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. I like men, I’m attracted to men. This came out of nowhere, but it’s big and it’s real.”

“No judgment here,” Cash says. “Any chance this might be a phase? Any chance you might salvage the marriage?”

“Nope,” Anna says. “But we can salvage the family, I’m pretty sure. We can have a functional divorced relationship, with shared custody.”

Baker and Floyd reappear. “I’d love to join you two for a drink,” Baker says, “but I think we should get Floyd home. He’s overheated.”

Anna pulls out a fifty and leaves it on the bar, much to Cash’s relief. “I made a reservation at a place called St. John Guest Suites,” Anna says. “I didn’t want to assume there would be room for us at the villa.”

“Oh, there’s room,” Cash says. “You can cancel your room.” He then thinks of Irene. “Or keep it—you may want privacy, and you probably won’t get your money back anyway.”

“Nonrefundable,” Anna confirms. “But I’d love to see the place. And to see your mom, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Cash says.

He tries to text Irene about their impending arrival, but his phone has no service on the north shore road. Oh well, he thinks. His mother has been through a bigger shock than this; she’ll be fine. Then again, his mother has been through such a big shock that it feels unfair to pile on more. Cash is sitting in the backseat of the Jeep with Floyd as though he, too, is a child—but he is also the architect of this mess. He alone knew Floyd and Anna were coming. He could have—should have—given Baker and Irene fair warning.

Baker turns right and they wind up the hill and pull up to the gate, which they’ve left open since their arrival. The house comes into view.

“Wait,” Anna says. She turns to Baker. “This is where you’re staying?”

“This is the villa,” Baker says flatly. “My father’s villa.”

“I don’t believe it,” Anna says.

Baker doesn’t respond. He parks and gets out of the car. “Come on, buddy,” he says to Floyd. “You want a tour?”

Baker and Floyd head up the stone staircase to the main deck, with Anna and Cash following a few steps behind. Anna is plainly floored. Cash tries to remember what he felt like six days ago when he saw this place for the first time. He had been gobsmacked. Now he takes it for granted.