“Wha…huh?” Joey’s feet tripped over each other to balance. Her napkin slipped to the ground. She twisted to gaze back, but Leo whipped her around. “Leo? What the hell?”

On Leo’s warpath toward the entrance, they nearly barreled into a waiter. He thrust his water pitcher over his head, sending some of it sloshing out onto Joey’s shirt.

“Leo? Leo!”

The maître d’ scurried after them, calling, “Sir? Madam?”

But Leo didn’t speak, just kept his tight grip on Joey’s arm, propelling her along. She glanced behind uncertainly at one point, only catching a blurred sliver of an awning before Leo jerked her forward. Joey’s veins went Popsicle-cold. Her feet shuffled along robotically, the shock of it all churning in her head.

After Leo pulled them around a corner, Joey finally shook herself from his grip. Shook herself back to life. “Leo, seriously! What are you doing?”

Everything quieted, but it was a loud quiet—roaring in Joey’s ears. Night had cloaked the island and sent most of its inhabitants to sleep, leaving behind the pristine aura of a deserted movie set. Leo rubbed his forehead, his eyes unreadable.

“Leo, talk to me. What was that?”

“Nothing.” But his gaze bounced from the fuchsia bougainvillea adorning a balcony to a cat lolling at the mouth of a moonlit garden—anywhere but at her.

“Seriously, Leo?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted, and she staggered back. He’d never yelled at her before. Never treated her with anything but care.

“I just didn’t like the menu,” he said, softer. “Leave it, okay, Joey?” He never called her Joey either. Only Jonesey or Jones or sometimes J.

“Leo, come on. Please tell me the truth. Don’t invent something about the menu.”

“I have a headache. That’s all. You’re blowing this out of proportion. Can we just be quiet for a bit? Go home?”

After some time, Joey heard herself say in a weird, foreign voice, “Okay.” Then Leo took her hand, and Joey let him squeeze away her questions.

The next morning, he broke up with her. Broke her heart. Broke her.

And she never saw him again.

Chapter Two

Joey

Florida
2019

“Thanks for coming, darling! The clickey thingie keeps getting lost.” Joey’s grandmother ushered her into her glacial foyer, a startling contrast to the thick heat endemic to August in South Florida.

“Joey, have a look at my new orchids. Can you believe they’re fake? They look expensive, don’t they?”

G walked toward the orchid pots, her rose chiffon dress twirling around her calves clad in pantyhose, her auburn wig laced with faint raspberry highlights in a fresh fluff around her tiny head.

“Wow, they really do.” Joey glanced at her phone, half expecting to see a text from Leo saying Just kidding, I’m not coming to Delray to see you after all.