“Really, don’t worry about that. And if they knew my dad, I’d like to talk to them.”

Of course, she thought, feeling even worse. This was about Ray, not her.

“Then wear something with an elastic waistband so my mom can shove you full of food.”

“Does this mean you want to have a food baby with me?” said Emilia.

Morgan’s laugh burst out of her, catching her by surprise and dispelling the black mood that had threatened to settle. “Yes. I totally do.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the water instead of Morgan’s bed. Emilia had invited her to come for a sail. It was the first time she’d offered, and it didn’t take much guesswork on Morgan’s part to surmise that it was hard for Emilia to sail with someone besides her father. She watched Emilia handle the lines of the sailboat with a confidence she’d seen in her only in the bedroom, and she was surprised to find she was more than content to make herself comfortable on a cushion as Emilia took them out of the harbor—though she eyed the currents and the hidden rocks with distrust. Sunlight teased red highlights out of Emilia’s hair, and her skin glowed under the blue sky. The sight pierced Morgan with a fierce longing, and she tried to fix this moment in her memory forever.

Neither of them spoke much as they sailed. The creak of the boat and the snap of the wind in the sails each time they came about filled the air with enough conversation, and the distant shrieking of gulls harassing the lobster boats for discarded bait echoed Morgan’s thoughts: I want, I want, I want. Emilia kept one hand on the tiller and the other on the lines, searching out the wind. Morgan let her own hand skim along the waves. Sailing wasn’t like driving her boat. It was quieter. Slower. A different sort of exhilaration.

Emilia’s shorts exposed her lean and muscled thighs. Not wanting to disrespect Ray’s memory, she did not run her fingers over the smooth skin, but her eyes strayed the longer they sailed. The buttons of Emilia’s white shirt had come partially undone in the wind to reveal a curve of breast and the black cloth of her bikini top beneath. Reflections from the water played across the shadow of her cleavage, and Morgan’s mouth went a little dry as she shifted. The heat between her own thighs was growing uncomfortable. Determined to behave, however, she stretched out on the bottom of the boat and propped her feet on the bow with her head resting on a life jacket near Emilia’s calf. She studied the sway of the boom and the tight swell of the sail above her until Emilia leaned her leg against Morgan’s head.