Until the Day I Die(35)

“No, not at all. I’m flattered.”

Flattered, I think, just not fooled.

“Erin.” She pushes aside her tray, filet still untouched. “In your own words, why exactly are you here?”

I shift in my seat. “The night I dropped my daughter off at college, I had an episode. I blacked out, apparently borrowed a friend’s car without asking.”

“Do you have a drinking problem? Because that’s not what your intake file says.”

“May I see it?” I ask.

Antonia cocks her head. “How about I summarize it for you instead? You haven’t been taking care of yourself properly since your husband’s death. You’ve been working around the clock, but not fulfilling your responsibilities in an adequate manner. Sleeping a lot. Neglecting your daughter and the rest of your family.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay.”

“Do you think you needed rehab for that, though? Why couldn’t they have just sent you on a luxury Mediterranean cruise? Or at least something a little less rigorous than this place? I mean, come on.” She laughs.

I want to agree, but I’m wary. I just watched this woman set up Deirdre, right in front of me, then break all kinds of confidentiality rules. And although I realize the whole episode was just a bit of amateur theater so she could show me who was boss, I don’t trust her. She’s got a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. And people like that can be dangerous. I’m thinking the smartest thing for me to do is to let Antonia Erdman scratch her dominance itch—and then, hopefully she’ll feel like expediting my L’élu and early release.

I shake my head. “I guess my friends and family thought I was on a destructive path. That I was about to make an unwise decision.”

“Oh? What decision?”

“I’d rather not say.”

She studies me. “Fair enough. But let’s talk about how you feel. Do you think you belong at Hidden Sands?”

“I think I can get something out of the experience.”

“Diplomatic answer. A person like you, a smart person, can get something out of any experience. I am a firm believer in the therapeutic model we’ve developed here at Hidden Sands. But I don’t think it’s for everybody. And I don’t think it’s what you need right now.”

I wait.

“You’ve been through a terrible trauma, Erin. And the way I see it, you could really use a break. An opportunity to drop all your cares and worries and responsibilities and just let go.”

I think about that kiss with Ben on my front steps. The feel of his rough cheek against mine. The easiness of being in his arms. It had felt so good to let down my guard, to not be sad about Perry or guilty about Jax or worried about Shorie. It had been such a relief just to be.

“It sounds wonderful, actually,” I admit.

“It can be therapeutic to escape,” she says. “From the days that keep marching by. The relationships that weigh us down with so many expectations. A break can allow you to let down your defenses. Heal the way your psyche wants to.”

I feel like the conversation has taken yet another turn. One I don’t fully understand. Jesus. What is it with this woman?

“I’d like to offer you another Hidden Sands experience,” Antonia says evenly. “The VIP experience. There is a second L’élu group. L’élu II. It’s strictly off the books—an alternative program we offer to a select few who do not wish or do not need to go through the traditional L’élu I.”

She’s watching me expectantly, and now not only red flags are waving, but also flags of every other color of the rainbow.

“In a nutshell, for a substantially higher fee, you’ll spend five days of absolute freedom at an undisclosed location on Ile Saint Sigo—to do whatever you want, with whomever you want, enjoying the kind of privacy and discretion only afforded by Hidden Sands’ top-notch staff.”

I stare at her. She waits.

“You mean,” I finally say, “like, whatever.”

She smiles. “In terms of the legalities of the particular activities you may choose to indulge in, we’re a mostly privately owned island, under the jurisdiction of the Royal Saint Lucia Police. But they aren’t known to take much notice about what’s going on here.” She lifts her eyebrows. “I do what I want on the island. And what I want is to offer you five full days and nights to do what you want—even if that’s just Netflix and nap.”

I level my gaze at her. “So, you’re telling me, while my friends and family think I’m completing some kind of arduous, vision quest–style recovery program, really I’m sitting in the sun, drinking wine, and watching movies?”

“If that’s what you choose, yes.” She leans back in her cushy chair. “And at the end of the five days, you still go home with an authentic, verifiable Hidden Sands L’élu certificate accepted by any doctor or court in the States.”

I laugh in disbelief. Netflix and nap. Spooky how she knows exactly what I’d want to do if I had free time. I definitely underestimated this woman.

She continues. “We can access your account immediately. I take wire transfers through Jax, as it happens.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. Why would you offer me this?”