The Good Widow(66)

Dylan glanced up at the bridge and held her breath as another person flew over the edge, this time a middle-aged bearded man, his belly jiggling as he jumped. “No, thanks,” she said, and smiled. “I’m good just watching. That makes me nervous enough.”

“You worry too much,” James said.

“Maybe,” Dylan agreed, thinking that James used to worry more too. But now he didn’t seem to care. She used to be proud that she brought out that side of him—she’d feel a slice of satisfaction that she’d prevailed where Jacqueline had failed. But apparently now she was the one holding him back. Maybe the baby would change things.

“You ready to go?” James asked a short while later, after they’d finished the wine (Dylan had sipped lightly, wanting to please James). He’d fed her a piece of banana bread and then drew her to him, leaning her back and kissing her, causing the couple walking by to let out a low whistle. Maybe she’d imagined the shift in his demeanor. She’d pressed him several times to tell her what was on his mind, but he kept brushing her off, telling her it was nothing, seeming annoyed after the third request. That when he’d said that by talk he hadn’t meant about anything serious.

But there was something in his eyes that made her question his words. Had he planned to tell her something important and changed his mind? Finally she gave up and accepted his answer as the truth—that there wasn’t anything to talk about. Even though there were so many things to talk about. But how could she press him to reveal his secrets when she was keeping her own?

James stood up and held out his hand for Dylan to take. They packed up the remains of their picnic and walked to the Jeep.

“Damn it,” James said. “The Jeep was broken into.”

“Oh, shit. My purse was in here.” Dylan looked inside, hoping somehow it was still there. But it wasn’t.

“Are you sure you didn’t take it with you when you set up the picnic? Or into the bathroom?”

Dylan thought hard. She’d been pretty sure she’d left it in the backseat on the floor, underneath a shopping bag. She had thought locking the Jeep would be enough. “I’m almost positive. What about your wallet?”

“I shoved it under my seat before I got out at the bridge,” James said, reaching with his hand and retrieving it. “It’s still here.”

Dylan’s stomach began to hurt. How was she going to get home? She’d have to call her roommates and have one of them overnight her passport. But still, they were supposed to fly back tomorrow. Dylan would need to change her flight too. Would James stay with her? And then her mind flashed to the pregnancy test sitting at the bottom of the bag.

“Come on,” James called out as he headed back toward the pools. “Let’s retrace our steps and ask if anyone saw anything. Then we can call the police.”

Dylan’s head was throbbing an hour later. They’d finally given up and called the police, filing a report over the phone. The officer who answered told Dylan it was quite common for that to happen, making her feel even more stupid. The police said they’d call if it turned up but gave her no confidence that it would.

James took her hand as they climbed into the car. “Don’t worry, belleza. It’s just stuff. It can be replaced.” He’d initially been irritated with her as they searched, but as she became upset when they couldn’t find any trace of her purse, he’d softened, using her special name. She loved when he called her that.

Dylan was exhausted, and that feeling in her gut had not dissipated. She still felt like something wasn’t quite right. “Can we head back to the hotel now?”

“Can we keep going? Finish the drive? We’re so close to the best part of the trip. Just lie back and close your eyes. Stop being so afraid. Let the curves soothe you.” James leaned in and kissed her lips gently. “For me? I really want to see what all the fuss is about with the back road.”

Dylan pointed toward the lowering sun. “But isn’t it safer to drive during the day? It’s going to get dark soon.”

James kissed her again, this time more forcefully. “Do you trust me?”

Dylan met his gaze. For the past several months, they’d led a life that no one else knew about. They’d risked everything to be together. And now she was pregnant with his baby. Did she trust him? The truth was, she absolutely did. She just wasn’t sure that she should.

“Yes,” Dylan said.

“Remember on the way here—how we could smell the hibiscus and African tulips as we drove? How vibrant green the kukui trees were?”

Dylan nodded, recalling how he’d carefully studied the flora guide inside the case for the Road to Hana CD they’d purchased, then pointed out the trees and flowers along the way.

“Well, this . . . this is going to far surpass any of that.”

Dylan bit her lip. She didn’t want to go. But she wanted James to be happy. She wanted to be his number one, because sometimes, just beyond those beautiful eyes, she could see him thinking about his other life. About his wife. So she was going to continue on this road with him and help him forget. And she was also going to tell him about their baby.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


JACKS—AFTER

When Officer Keoloha drops us off at the restaurant, our nerves as frayed as our hair from the strong wind, I’m not sure what we’ll find—will the Jeep be here? Did Nick drive back to the hotel? Or go back to California? I try to ignore the hammering in my chest. My earlier anger toward him has subsided; my well of emotions has run dry. Reliving James’s last moments was necessary, but excruciating and exhausting. Finally. All the questions that could have been answered were.