“Holy shit. I didn’t think we’d be so close. Is that—?”

Eli nods. “Isola Bella.”

When I first read about it, my only thought was that the locals could have put a bit more of their backs into the naming process. But now that I’m in its presence, it occurs to me that simplicity might have its merits. Because…it’s certainly beautiful. And it is an island—at least, I think so. A round, jagged mound of green and gray, completely surrounded by sea. The only exception is a thin strip of pebbly sand that connects it to the mainland.

“Is it high tide? Right now, I mean.”

Eli shrugs. “Dunno. Why?”

“Low,” a deep voice says from behind us. “The sandbar was underwater this morning.”

Well. I guess I put this off as long as I could.

I exhale, paste a serene expression to my face, and turn around. “Hey, Conor,” I say cheerfully. Which is…a choice, given that nearly everyone else in the world calls him Hark.

Old habits, though.

“Maya,” he says.

Not Hi, Maya. Or Maya, hey. Clearly, he does not feel the need to pepper his emails with overenthusiastic punctuation. Conor barely even smiles, though I refuse to take that personally. It’s just how he is—sharky, impatient, sometimes mean. Maybe it comes from the emotionally dystopian family that raised him. Maybe it’s a deliberate business strategy, being at once intense and scary and angry as the true path to embody the wealth-portfolio guy. I always figured the suits did lots of heavy lifting, but he’s wearing whiskey-colored pants and a simple white T-shirt, and I still could never mistake him for a software developer or a philosophy professor.

Honestly, he’s not my type. Too overworked. Too incapable of letting go. Too single-minded. Too much of a dickhead.

And for the last three years of my life, I’ve been in love with him.

I’ve always been stubborn, but this is twisted. Sclerotic. Toxic. My brain tripped on him when I was twenty, and here I am. Still. Despite all that has happened since.

All those teachers telling my brother how smart I was, and here I am. So fucking dumb.

“How’s school?” he asks. He has a knack for this—asking innocent questions that’ll put me in my place. Which, in his head, is at the kiddy pool. Far away from the adults. From him.

“Great.” I smile, pointedly ignoring the familiar way Avery’s hand rests on the back of his upper arm. You knew that this would happen, I remind myself. And physical contact is a totally normal thing between people who enjoy each other’s company.

I can’t remember the last time I touched him.

“Avery,” I ask my new friend, “did you see how close Isola Bella is?”

“Yes! I’m really excited about exploring.” She frowns. “Scared, too. I’m not the strongest swimmer.”

“We can go together,” I offer.

“That would be amazing.”

“I was thinking later, maybe after a nap—”

“Jesus, Maya,” Eli chuckles. “We’re here for a week and have nothing planned for most of it. Take today to just sleep off the jet lag. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” He accepts a suitcase from the driver and heads toward the portico, stepping between two fluted white columns with Tiny in tow.