Or maybe Joanna didn’t want to be seen leaving his apartment in the morning, wearing the same clothes she’d worn the night before. She’d texted Ashley to say she’d be helping out at the bookstore, so Ashley had assumed she’d go straight there.

Ashley opened the door of her own bedroom and stared at Joanna’s closed door.

Should she check on her?

She was just debating the merits of that when the door opened and Joanna emerged.

Back to wearing jeans and the crisp white shirt, Ashley noted. Hair scooped into a twist on the back of her head. It was Joanna’s “dealing with the world” uniform. Which could only mean one thing.

Trouble.

Something to do with Nate?

Joanna saw Ashley and paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake,” Ashley lied. Something was wrong, and she intended to find out what. “I’m starving. Do you want to make pancakes?”

“Now?”

“Why not? We can eat them on the terrace. Perfect start to the day.”

“I don’t know how to make pancakes.” Whatever the problem was, it had left Joanna looking pale and drawn. Ashley had been expecting secretive smiles and a happy glow.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Ashley, I’m not sure that—”

“The great thing about pancakes is that they’re quick. Which makes them the perfect snack, any time of the day or night. I have the best recipe. Let me show you. You’ll thank me.” She headed to the kitchen and was relieved when Joanna followed. “You fetch the milk. I’ll measure the flour. Does maple syrup work for you?”

“I—”

“My mother always thought maple syrup was the best. My dad—not Cliff, my real always-there-for-me dad—liked melted chocolate. Which turns pancakes into dessert, I always think, but each to his own.”

Joanna removed the milk from the fridge. “How much?”

“Depends on how hungry you are. How was your evening?”

“Fine, thank you.”

Fine?

Ashley handed her the rest of the ingredients and the whisk. “If you want to invite him to dinner again, I have another recipe to teach you.”

“You can teach me the recipe because I enjoy cooking with you, but he won’t be coming to dinner again.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Yes.” Joanna put the whisk down. “And this affects you, too.”

“Me?”

“I woke up this morning and saw a couple of photographers on the beach.”

“I assume you don’t mean the tourist variety. Outside Nate’s place?” So it had finally happened. The fact that they’d expected it didn’t make it any less outrageous. “Did they see you?”

“Not then, but earlier.” Joanna sighed and picked up the whisk. “You can see for yourself. Check your phone.”

It took her seconds to find the photographs, and a few more seconds to scan the words that went with them.