She shakes her head, as if to clear her thoughts, and says, “I never thought ‘trust fund baby’ fit you.” Now it’s her turn to make air quotations. “That just didn’t seem like you.”

“What about now?” I say. “Does thief fit me any better?” She looks at me carefully, as if really considering the question. “A little bit,” she says. “But I’d like to think ‘hero who saves little girl’ fits the best.”

“Me too,” I say softly, not sure if that’s true.

CHAPTER 14

“DOES SHE KNOW the truth?” Hannah asks. “Your girlfriend.”

“No,” I say, looking away from her and out at the wavelets lapping at the shore. “But I should tell her before it gets more serious, shouldn’t I?”

“If she’s smart,” Hannah says, “she’ll run away from you as fast as she can.”

“If I were smart,” I say, “I would have run away from Lake Tahoe the moment I saw my picture in your newspaper. We don’t always do what we’re supposed to.”

“No,” she says, “we don’t.”

I try to figure out if there’s a subtext to her words. Is she saying she won’t write about what I’m telling her? Or at least thinking about it?

“For what it’s worth,” I say, standing up and tossing my soda into a nearby garbage can, “I’m sorry about all this.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” I say. “When you met me on that boat, I’m sure you didn’t expect me to turn out to be a criminal.”

I almost add, A criminal who picked another girl over you.

I don’t need to say it. I can tell she gets the message.

“Look,” she says. “I’m glad we met on that boat. You saved a little girl’s life. Don’t forget that. I’m the one who should say she’s sorry. You didn’t ask to have your picture in the paper.”

I shrug. “You were just doing your job,” I say, echoing her words from our fight a week ago.

I ask her if she decides to publish what she knows about me, will she warn me ahead of time?

“So you can split town?” she says.

I nod.

“I’ll give you a heads up,” she says.

“Well, I guess this could be good-bye,” I say.

I open my arms, not sure if she’ll hug me, but she steps in, and we hold each other for longer than decorum would suggest is necessary. I feel her warm body pressed against mine. I inhale deeply and smell her hair.

Ah, I think, in another life . . .

When we break, I point and show her which house is mine. I’m not sure why. I guess I just don’t want this to be the last I ever see of her.