Just as she was pondering what she could do to change that, a key turned in the lock.
Her husband was home.
She quickly dropped onto the couch and pretended she had been casually sitting there all along.
Thad strode in, his shiny leather briefcase slung over his shoulder. His shirt was cleanly tucked in, his tie perfectly knotted. His dark brown hair was just brushing his shoulder, and she noted that he needed a haircut.
He bent quickly and brushed a kiss on the top of her head.
“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled. An apology, but not really.
She cocked her head.
“What was it tonight?” she asked innocently. He shrugged.
“Same old crap. Clients who don’t give a shit about my personal life. They want to meet for dinner to discuss their issues, then dinner turns into drinks, and I can’t get away, then here I am dragging myself home just in time for bed.”
He was definitely making a point to stress how tired he was. How weary.
Gen thought back in her head. When was the last time they’d had sex? A month ago? Two? It was a bad sign that she couldn’t remember. She hadn’t even shaved her legs in weeks. Why should she? Her husband sure as hell wouldn’t notice.
Thad poured a scotch and stood at the window, staring down at the street far below.
“I love this place,” he said quietly, and for just a minute, she heard the man she’d married.
“I do, too,” she answered, and joined him. She lifted her hand and touched his back.
He didn’t react.
She tried again, brushing her hand against his shoulder.
He didn’t notice. She cringed. When had this started happening? How had she not realized it?
“Do you still love me?” she asked.
Thad’s head snapped around, and he stared at her with wide eyes.
“Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?”
He seemed so startled, so appalled, that her stomach unclenched just a bit. He lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and it did seem silly now. “You’re just so distant.”
“Babe,” he said, and he pulled her to him. She inhaled the familiar scent of his skin, his shirt. “I’m just building a life for us. Everything I’m doing is for you. For us.”
She nodded, and she truly felt silly now. Of course, he was right. He was a hard worker, an overachiever. He always had been.
“I know,” she finally answered. A weight lifted off her shoulders at the finality in his voice. He meant it. She’d stake her life on it.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Now. How about...we go to bed early.”
“It’s not early,” she pointed out with a giggle.
“Details,” he announced. “Let’s go to bed.”
His voice was suggestive, and her belly twinged in response. It’d been a while since they’d made love. This was good. It was a definite good sign.
They went to bed, and for the first time in weeks, Gen didn’t doubt her husband’s love.
Chapter Five
August 16
“Emmy.”
Nate’s voice is serious. I close my eyes. Somehow, I know I don’t want to hear what he’s going to say. He’s been here for the past seven days, ever since it happened.
My ex-husband sits next to me now on the darkened porch, the crashing sea a perfect background for an ominous conversation. So many things pulled us apart over the years, so many “irreconcilable differences,” but we have one huge commonality now.
Devastating, soul-wrenching grief.
“The sheriff’s office is tentatively calling it a drowning related to a shark attack,” he tells me, his voice decisively calm and steady. “There was an eight-foot bull shark sighted on the public beach earlier that day. The shredded ankle loop, the blood on the board, it all points toward the same thing.”
“But she hasn’t washed ashore,” I say quietly, and my tongue is wooden. I can’t feel it, and I swirl it around, trying to feel it, but it doesn’t work. “There’s no body, Nate.”
Body. I’m talking about my precious girl in such strange terms. She’s not a body. She’s a person. She’s my person.
Nate looks away, his mouth tight. “She might’ve been pulled out to sea, or...there might not be anything left.”
Jesus God.
I exhale in a rush, and my breath feels sick. My hands shake, like they have every day since it happened.
“Go ahead and say it,” I mutter. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t let her go out that night...”
Nate puts a hand on my arm and his voice is stern. “Stop. I don’t blame you, Emmy. It’s something that happened. It’s tragic. My heart is broken and life will never be the same, but it wasn’t your fault. Of that, I am certain.”
His absence of anger makes me feel even guiltier, because I know the truth. I know that it’s all my fault. It was my job to not let her endanger herself in any way, and in one lapse of judgment, she paid the ultimate price for my mistake.
“I mean it, Em,” he adds. “You need to believe that.”
I don’t, and I never will. But I don’t argue with him.
“I think you should sell the inn,” he says quietly a few minutes later. My hands clench around the arms of the rocking chair. “You would get top dollar for it, and you could get away from here, from this place. You could maybe even come to Phoenix. Maybe we could try again...”
His voice trails off and I fight the urge to laugh bitterly. A reunion? That was Leah’s favorite daydream. I’d never do that now, not now that she isn’t here to enjoy it. That would be an insult to her memory.
“We both know it wouldn’t work,” I tell him instead, my voice soft and even. “The death of a child...a couple rarely survives that. Besides, I don’t want to sell the inn. Leah lived here. I’ll never leave it. It’s all I have left of her.”
I haven’t been in her room since the night she died.
Died.
Jesus. I can’t say the word aloud, and I can barely even think it.
My daughter is dead. My beautiful, vibrant, strong daughter.
It’s unfathomable.
If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I imagine her like she was that night, poised on the steps and listening to me chastise her for taking photos again. Her face was soft and vulnerable, and all I’d done was come down on her. If I could just go back in time, I’d grab her and pull her away from the sea. I’d never let her swim in it again.