But it is, and I say, “He is one stealth son of a gun.”

Jonah winces—embarrassed of me or for me, out of ignorance either way—and shakes his head all the way up the stairs, mumbling, “Unbelievable,” or something like it.

“Glad you’re back, Son,” I call after him.

Though he still thinks he’s too cool for most things around here, Jonah allows, “Me too,” before slamming his bedroom door.

“Me three,” Elizabeth mutters. She brings one hand to her mouth, as if silencing herself.

“Hey.” I give her body a playful shake, and she wobbles in my arms, then falls against me. “It’s okay,” I assure her. “If he saw us, he saw us. It’s our pool, our house. He should have made his presence known.” I give her shoulders one last squeeze and leave her to recover. “He’ll get over it.” I snap a mint leaf from the wad of drooping stems and dirty flowers in this pristine cut glass, and I crush the leaf between thumb and forefinger, electrocuting the air with a bright, biting scent that brings to mind lamb chops on Easter Sunday and that neon-green jelly my father kept in the back of our fridge. “There are ants in these.”

Elizabeth snaps at me, “Well, shake them out.”

“Your grandmother’s crystal is too nice for this mess.”

Elizabeth grabs the entire bouquet with one hand and transfers it back to the pickle jar. The empty vase casts rainbows on our granite countertop. “I’m sorry,” she says, kneading her eye sockets with the heels of her hands. “I feel like I still haven’t recovered from last night, and that’s the only small vase I have.”

“Hey, we have those square ones from the party. The centerpieces?”

“Yeah. You’re right. Shit, I need to return those to Luna. I’ve emptied out most of them. They’re in the garage. I put a few in the guesthouse, too. Help yourself.” Walking away, she tells me, “I’m getting my book.”

Her avoidance of Nick is an olive branch in itself—an honored term of our unspoken covenant: a silent pact to erase him from our lives. She’s given me an in, though, so I say, “I’ll get one from out back. I can check on Nick while I’m at it.”

Elizabeth nods but doesn’t look at me.

And so, once again, I cross my lawn, but this time it’s just a lawn—not the bottom of the ocean, not a bad dream—and this time, Nick is just annoying, not haunting. I bang on the door, but he doesn’t answer, and I couldn’t care less what he’s up to today, so I let myself in, once again.