After we’d talked for a while at the beach that day, Kayla stood up, zipped her hoodie, tightened the drawstring around her face and said, “Maybe I’ll see you this weekend,” and I guess I was thinking that life’s-too-short crap when I said, “Do you want to take my number?” She didn’t answer right away, so I said, “In case Crowley’s thing changes. It’s supposed to rain next week.”

So we exchanged information and she said, “Tell Nick I said hi. See you guys around.”

I nodded. “For sure.”

She smiled at me. “See you, Jonah.”

I guess I forgot to tell Nick, but only because I figured we’d see her soon anyway. I had this dumb idea she might be at Dad’s party tonight, which I now realize was legit stupid, because the Vosses practically bankroll those shindigs. See, that right there is another thing I’d never thought about: the people and places Kayla has to avoid because of him.

Through my floor, I can hear Dad coughing. He almost had his perfect night, but then he went and picked a fight with Elizabeth. Now he’s sleeping in the office instead of in bed with his wife. He thinks I’m an idiot who doesn’t notice that stuff, but I can hear when he pulls out the hideaway, or coughs, or stubs his toe and curses. He thinks I’m clueless, but I don’t take it personally anymore, because I get it now: he just isn’t my people.

3.

“Robert.” Her voice is barely a whisper. She strokes my head and I crack my eyes. Nautical twilight paints the walls soft violet. “The boys will be up soon.”

Elizabeth is standing over me, half asleep and wrapped in a robe, and although she didn’t bring me a cup of coffee to start my day, I smell a pot brewing in the kitchen. She hands me the boxer shorts I’d dropped at the end of the couch last night. I put them on without saying a word. She doesn’t ask how I slept, but she does help me carry bedding so we won’t have to answer Jonah’s questions if he sees pillows in my office. We tiptoe through the living room and up the stairs, and with every step, the drama of last night loses power and relevance. It was stupid. We were tired. We hang a right and close our bedroom door behind us.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have talked it over with you first.”

“What’s done is done,” I tell her. “It’s not a big deal anyway.”

“I know. Are you mad?”

“Not really. Are you?”

“I don’t think so,” she says. Heaven knows she shouldn’t be.

I say, “We were both surprised. No big deal.”