Being closer to land means being that much closer to cell service . . . and to finding out how Millie’s surgery went. Natalie already has her cell phone out. She’s waving it in the air, trying to get signal. Derek is fretting over his camera. Things feel like they are returning to normal, like the closer we get to land, the more I will feel like this never happened. Hugh and I sit together in our normal seats by Aaron’s chair.

‘This is weird,’ Hugh says.

‘Like the closer we get to land the more this feels like a fever dream?’ I reply.

‘Exactly.’

A shiver runs up my spine at how in sync we are after just five days. I slightly move my thigh so that our legs are touching. Hugh glances at me out of the corner of my eye, and I pretend not to notice. I drink in his stature and his smell – sunscreen and woodsy with a hint of fresh grass and male cologne.

Hugh places a hand on my thigh. ‘Now that you’re done focusing on finding that fish. And now that I’m feeling better,’ he mumbles throatily, never taking his eyes off the horizon.

‘I’m listening,’ I whisper coyly.

Just then, Aaron abruptly cuts the motor, startling Hugh’s hand off my knee. We’ve entered a no-wake zone. Andrew and Pippa turn their phones on, and they start to vibrate with what I’m sure is a deluge of calls and texts they missed while we were on the water.

‘You gonna check on your sister?’ Hugh asks, gesturing at the phone that still sits on airplane mode in my lap.

‘I’m nervous.’

Hugh reaches over, swipes down on my phone screen, and toggles the button to turn off airplane mode. ‘Better do it sooner than later.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. I mean it. I know he’s right, and I didn’t have the strength to do it myself. My hands are shaking.

My phone starts to vibrate, first slowly, every twenty seconds or so, and then furiously, like it could explode. My breathing shallows.

I watch as texts pour in from my mom, coming in random order.

She’s in surgery.

We’re waiting.

We had to go back to the hospital.

She’s headed back.

Murphy is doing fine without you.

We’re headed home!

What have you been feeding this dog?! He eats so much!

Millie says she loves you.

She’s through surgery!

Honey, Millie has an infection. We’re taking her back to the hospital.

And then . . .

A missed call from last night at 10.20 p.m.

A voicemail.

I press on the voicemail with shaky hands, fumbling to bring the phone up to my face. Hugh rests a reassuring hand on my knee, noticing that something may be wrong.