His stomach hardened and he briefly looked down at the water’s murky surface. He hadn’t meant that to sound so harsh. “Sorry. I don’t like talking about it. I’m not proud of what I did.”

She tilted her head and regarded him silently. “Maybe she wasn’t the right one for you.”

There wasn’t going to be anyone for him, he’d make sure of it. The music industry was tough on relationships. Jack’s and Cal’s lack of success was proof enough, but Sonia was Dylan’s outro. If his life was a song, his screwup was the instrumental conclusion, ending all doubts he might have had about whether he could find love and keep it and expect Westfield Records to succeed. He had to make a choice, and he chose music.

“What’s with all the questions?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile to soften his defensive tone.

“Just trying to get to know you better.” She twisted her wet hair and draped it over her shoulder. “You got me thinking about what you said yesterday at dinner.”

Dylan cringed. He’d been a royal pain at dinner. “What did I say?”

“You mentioned that I never talk about Mark around you, and you’re right. You’re here and he’s not, and I feel guilty about that.” She shrugged her shoulder and looked at the rock face. She scratched a fingernail on the stone.

“Do you want him here?”

She frowned, then shook her head after a beat. “It’s not that I don’t love him. I do. It’s just . . . complicated.” She chewed her lower lip. “You can do the same. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you about Mark.”

He stared at her. He didn’t want to know about Mark. He wanted to know more about Joy. Questions lined up in his head: What song would she pick if he offered to sing to her? Would she mind if he wrote a song about her? Would she think him uncool if she knew he owned a pair of Crocs? Each demanded attention. He couldn’t figure which to ask first.

Joy must have mistaken his silence for disinterest. The interest brightening her eyes dimmed. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m going to lay out.” She swam off before he could stop her, leaving him to wonder what was so complicated about her relationship with Mark.

Everything, probably. Relationships were messy.

Dylan joined Joy on the shore. He wrapped his towel around his waist and sat beside her. “I do have a question.” A safe and simple one. “Are you looking forward to New York?” She hadn’t shown much excitement about her move.

Joy bit into an apple left over from lunch. “Yes. Have you been?”