Joy slides from behind him to sit at his side again. “I think if there was a way for me to do it without signing off on massive amounts of debt, I’d go back to school too. I still really love the ocean.” She grabs one of the mimosas she prepared. “For now, I have to settle for making science puns, but only periodically.”

Fox snickers. “What do you love about the ocean?”

“We don’t know what the hell is down there.”

“I think we have a pretty good idea.”

“No, we really don’t. So much of the ocean is unexplored. We, as a species, can go to the moon and send rovers to Mars, but we’re just fine not knowing what’s happening on our own planet? Bullshit. I have this really stupid theory”—she rolls her eyes—“I thought of it when I was a kid and it’s just always stuck with me. I think we, as a species, could find out more about the ocean but we have this deep-seated, unspoken fear that stops us from going too far. We’re never, ever supposed to find out—like it’s a part of our DNA. We’re born afraid of the ocean deep. But there are some people, like yours truly, who didn’t get that fear gene. And James Cameron.”

“Hmm.” He considers her for a moment, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “So you’re the kind of person who would open the sacred cursed tomb without hesitating that it might end the world.”

“Well, my middle name is Pandora.”

“No, it’s not.”

Joy smiles at him.

“Wink or something, because I know you’re lying.”

“Joy Pandora and Grace Cassandra.” She shrugs. “My parents have a prophetic sense of humor.”

“You know, if Malcolm were here, that one might have actually killed him.”

Malcolm. Hearing his name shatters the bubble of ignorant bliss she’d taken the past couple of hours protecting. Near instantly she thinks of him and Summer and where they are and what they’re doing. She remembers last night and her fear. She thinks of later tonight when they return and tomorrow when everything might be different. The uncertainty returns just as fierce, settling into its familiar haunts for the long haul.

“We had a deal. We’re not talking about him.” Joy stands up, muttering, “And I’m turning into a raisin.” She carefully climbs out of the hot tub, and instead of drying off, she walks down the small slope of grass and lays out her towel in a perfect patch of sun.

Fox joins her a few minutes later with a towel as well, setting up shop next to her. “Can I give you some unsolicited advice? You two need therapy.”

Joy snorts. “Grace would love you.”