I realize I have allowed myself to be swept up in a stupid little daydream about James. To believe that the potential for magic was there, between us, and I feel completely ridiculous now that I think about it. He has been nothing but friendly and kind in return, but then anyone would, given the circumstances, and he is, of course, much too polite to draw attention to my inappropriateness.

“Excuse me.” I push back my chair and stand abruptly.

Nadia breaks off her conversation with the gray-haired man, Bill, whom she had invited to join us. “Are you OK, Ava? I thought after this we might head to the bar for a nightcap.”

“I’m fine, just tired. I should really get some sleep so I don’t look a complete fright tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I can’t help but look at James when I say the last sentence, and he frowns, puzzled by my curt tone. He starts to stand.

“I’ll walk you to your room.”

“No, thank you. There’s no need. I’m pretty sure I can find it by myself.”

I walk away before he can answer.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In the foyer, I hesitate. To my left are the stairs leading up to my room, and sanctuary from my mortification. But the thought of being there by myself, feeling the way I am feeling, is unappealing. So I head straight instead, toward the doors that allow me to slip out into the night, under a cloak of darkness that goes some way toward hiding how absurd I feel.

What was I thinking? I wasn’t. That was the problem. And now here I am, feeling pitifully sorry for myself but with only myself to blame.

With the sun gone the temperature has dropped, and the breeze blowing in off the lake is brisk and invigorating. A degree or two warmer and I’d have been tempted to swim. To cleanse off my foolishness and bring me back to my senses. But the black water is more sinister than inviting, and our earlier discussion about the mountain keeps my feet planted firmly on the shore. I try to always trust my instincts. More so since my diagnosis. They are the deeper work of something we are yet to understand, and I believe people should listen to them more than they do. But they can be confusing too. The same instincts that are telling me to stay out of the water also told me James was one of the good guys. And yet the way he smiled at the waitress when she whispered in his ear, it seemed like he was agreeing to something I wouldn’t have expected of him. I hope I’m wrong, but I also know I can’t blame him if I’m not.

Walking along the lawn, away from the lights of the foyer and the restaurant, I trip on something and hop around on one foot, swearing blue words into the inky darkness. As my eyes adjust, I realize there is a life-size chessboard paved into the lawn and I caught my foot on the edge of one tile. On top are chess pieces that come up to my knees. I play around with them for a while, but I’ve never understood the game and quickly lose interest. Turning, I decide I should probably do what I said I would and get some sleep so I am prepared for tomorrow, but then I see some white wooden loungers, four of them, with full-length cushions on top. They look tempting, and I lower myself gently down onto one and stretch out. It is surprisingly comfortable. Overhead, the stars litter the sky like glitter on a child’s art project, haphazard and random, and completely impossible to ignore. It reminds me of the roof in my bedroom growing up, and I remember how I’d always wanted to sleep under the stars but never had. Tonight, I decide, is as good a time as any.