He is, right?

Our conversation is momentarily paused when Charlie walks back in the room, tapping his cell against the palm of one hand. The way he looks at me in that moment, it’s like he’s scared for me, but he knows he can’t hold me back. I feel a surge of sadness come over me, followed immediately by excitement mixed with anxiety.

“Okay,” he says, and my brows go up, “you can go with Miranda, but Kathleen is in charge of you the whole time. If I get one whiff of trouble out there, I’ll come and get you myself. Oh, and if those boys so much as utter one rude word in your direction …” Dad trails off, but I smile and move over to give him a huge hug which he returns.

“I won’t be gone too long,” I whisper, “and then I’ll be back so we can go to the lake together.”

“Okay, Marnye-bear,” he says, giving me a kiss on the head. But I notice that his eyes fall on Windsor … and narrow. “I’m going to go take a shower. Just … if Miranda goes, then leave the door open, okay?” He lets go of me and turns to head toward the bathroom while I look between his retreating back … and Windsor’s smiling face.

“Yes, please do, leave the door open,” Windsor purrs, and I grab my hairbrush from the vanity, and chuck it at him. He catches it in one hand and laughs, while Miranda and I exchange a look.

Oh yeah, we’re in need of some serious girl time.

Especially since I’m pretty sure my boy-free summer has just turned into a boy-centric one.

One week later, and I’m on a plane, sitting in business class again and trying not to be nervous about this trip. Part of me wonders if I’m going to have the time of my life … or experience a nightmare I can’t undo. When I close my eyes, I see Greg and John and Ben. I see Harper ordering them to rape me. Bile rises in my throat and I open my eyes quickly, just in time to order a soda from the flight attendant.

I’m all alone on this flight—the others all left days ago. But that’s okay. It feels good to have a moment all to myself to think.

What, exactly, is my relationship with the guys?

Windsor … is a friend. Right? And Zack is a … crush? Do I want him to be a crush?

I’m pretty sure Creed thinks I’m somehow his after what happened in the hot tub (idiot). Zayd is so ashamed he can barely look at me. And Tristan is … well, he’s Tristan.

Groaning, I down my soda like the guy two seats up and one over is downing tiny bottles of rum. When I went to the bathroom last, I saw he had like seven on his tray. Guess first-class customers really do get away with whatever they want?

There’s a button that turns my seat into a bed, so as soon as the flight attendant collects my cup, I press it, and then curl up to take a nap.

When I arrive, there’s a limo waiting for me.

The Cabots live in an almost disturbingly huge mansion, right on the edge of the beach. My room leads out onto a deck with stairs that go right down to the yard, and from there, it’s just a short walk to the sandy shore. Even though I grew up in Cruz Bay, and the beach has always been a short drive away, it’s no less impressive. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is the Atlantic Ocean, not the Pacific. It’s pretty surreal, to be honest.

The house itself is actually quite homey, considering, and I can see Kathleen’s fingerprints all over the place.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, giving me what’s probably the twentieth or thirtieth hug since I got here. I know how bad Kathleen feels about what her son did to me, and I appreciate her genuine want and need to try and make up for that. “And I’m so pleased you girls have become friends. Miranda needs someone around to keep her grounded.”

“Mom,” Miranda groans, rolling her blue eyes and giving me an I’m so sorry my mom is clingy look. “Can you please leave Marnye alone? She didn’t come all the way across the country to be molested by you.”

Kathleen sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, her sunny yellow dress billowing in the gentle breeze from outside. Creed pauses beside her and puts my bags on the floor, looking mildly annoyed at his mother. She refused to let the butler—holy crap, they have a butler—do it, and insisted Creed take all my luggage up to my room.

“You,” she says, leveling a dark and disappointed stare on her child. I can see the damage done to Creed and Kathleen’s relationship from here. It doesn’t make me happy, exactly, but I also don’t feel overly guilty. Creed did this to himself. His own actions brought him down this path. There’s nothing I can do to change it; he has to repair his relationship with his mom by himself. “Pack your things. You’re going to stay with a friend.”

“What?” Creed chokes out, blinking confused blue eyes in Kathleen’s direction. “Why?”

She gives him a look, you know the type: a very parental sort of look. Children recognize it by the fear it strikes in their hearts; parents recognize it by the smug feeling they get when they cast it. Kathleen smiles, but it’s not a pretty expression. Her curly red hair is tucked up in a severe bun, adding to the image of authority, and her eyes are just as icy and blue as her children’s.

“Why do you think, oh genius son of mine?” She nods her chin in my direction. “I want Marnye to have a home away from home, and a place she can come and relax in if she needs space.”

“Yeah, it’s called her bedroom,” Creed drawls lazily, but I can see his hands curling into fists by his sides. He thought he’d won against the other guys by having me stay here. Looks like he was wrong. I smile and he catches my expression with a raised brow before turning back to his mother. “We’ve made up, Mom. We’re friends now.”

Kathleen doesn’t look convinced. Then again, she doesn’t know about the hot tub—and I hope she never finds out.

“Get your stuff together. Billy is sending a car to pick you up in a half hour.”

“I’m staying with the Kaisers?” Creed drawls, narrowing his eyes, and I chuckle.

“Zayd is there all by himself, and Billy would feel more comfortable if he had company. He asked if you could stay, and since I was looking into sending you to the B&B anyway, I agreed. I’ll be sending Kyle to keep an eye on the place as well, so don’t think you won’t have supervision.”

Oh. Kyle, the bodyguard. I’d forgotten about him completely.

Creed makes a frustrated sound in his throat, and grits his teeth, but he says nothing, breezing past his mother and up the stairs.

She mumbles something about needing coffee, and disappears, leaving me alone with Miranda.

We’re both dressed in sundresses: mine is new, a gift from Kathleen, and it’s the color of the sea at sunset, a balayage color pattern that goes from deep blue at the bottom to sandy gold in the middle and then orange and navy at the top. Miranda is outfitted entirely in a pale blue that matches her eyes, complete with yellow daisies.

“Shall we head down to the beach?” she asks, holding out her arm. I grin and take it, and we make the quick walk across the yard, through the trees, and down a series of steps to the beach. There are people there, running and screaming and playing, but it’s not overly crowded.

We find an empty spot, set up our towels, and crack open the picnic basket that Kathleen gave us. It’s full of cold, glass-bottled Cokes, sandwiches, and little plastic bags filled with cut-up fruit. We’re not seated there ten minutes when I get a ping on my phone.

On my way to pick up Creed. How was your flight?

“It’s Zayd,” I say, when I notice Miranda watching me. I suck my lower lip under my teeth before replying. Awesome. On the beach with Miranda now.

There’s a pause before I see him typing a response.

In my bathing suit. Live in it during the summer. LOL. Can I join you?

Before I can think too hard about it, I type yes.

Miranda’s brows are raised when I look back up at her.

“How are you planning on juggling all of these boys?” she asks, and I blink at her.

“I’m not … what do you mean ‘juggling’?” Setting my phone aside, I pick at the label on my Coke and try to ignore the anxious butterflies in my stomach. Doesn’t help much.

“Um, are you insane?” Miranda asks, leaning over to look at me with wide eyes. “They’re all in love with you.”

I rear back and end up spilling soda all over my lap.

“What? No!” I choke out, swiping at the crotch of my new dress with a cloth napkin. “No, that’s just— I mean, Windsor isn’t …”

“Okay, think whatever you want,” Miranda says with an exaggerated sigh. “But I’m telling you what it looks like as an outsider: you have five guys in love with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sputter, but then I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump.