Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Hell, who wouldn’t?
Our server clears the table and then offers dessert. “Papaya and coconut cream parfait,” he says, sliding the glass dishes in front of us, “with toasted macadamia nuts.”
Once he’s gone, Emily finally speaks.
“You can keep your secrets, Sebastian,” she says. “And I’ll keep mine.”
“You have secrets?” I ask.
“I have one in particular that only one other person on this island knows.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and I’ll keep it to myself. Unless you’d like to share yours.”
I sigh. Part of me wants to spill everything. We’ve all kept it inside for so long that it’s festered like a wound that never had the chance to heal, just growing worse over time until it spreads so deep that there’s nothing left to do.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—when Misty and Brett walk by us.
“How’s your evening going?” Brett asks.
“Great,” I say. “You want to join us?”
Misty snarls at that, and across from me, Emily doesn’t look too happy either.
Big faux pas on my part. The truth of the matter is that I don’t know what I’m doing here. The thought of spending time with Heather excited me. And Emily? I found her so bewitching that first night, but she’s made it clear I’m not her first choice this evening.
“Another time,” Brett says. He takes Misty’s arm and they continue walking.
I look down the coastline and see another table set up in the distance. “I guess they chose dinner on the beach as well,” I say.
“Yes, bully for them,” Emily says dryly.
I take a bite of my parfait. It’s delicious, of course. Everything has been so far. Evangeline planned this perfectly. The chefs she hired are top-notch.
But she’s made some mistakes—like not having a medical professional here on the island. We’re lucky that Ginger took care of Rachel on the catamaran, and that Ariel’s injury during the cook-off was only superficial. The doctor should be arriving tomorrow.
Then there are the threats Ginger and Rachel received. Misty and her shenanigans. Evie’s pregnancy and the danger she’s allegedly in.
I need a fucking break from all of that.
I finish my dessert. Emily is nearly done.
What the hell? We were hot and heavy for each other the first night. Why not go for it?
I clear my throat.
“Yes?” she says.
“I could beat around the bush,” I say. “I could tell you how beautiful you are, but you already know that. I could serenade you some more—”
“I’d actually like that,” she says.
I cock my head. “You would?”
“Are you kidding me? Your voice is beautiful, and that song...” She sighs. “About the five of you.”
Fuck. Back to that again.
“Yes, there were five of us,” I say. “We lost one when we were fifteen.”
She gasps. “I’m so sorry. What happened? Was there an accident?”
I shake my head slowly. “He took his own life.”
“Oh, Sebastian... I shouldn’t have pushed. Please accept my apology.”
I rub my forehead. “Emily, it was twenty years ago.”
“But it still affects you deeply. I can see it in your face. I hear it in the song you sang.”
“The song I sang about the four of us.”
“Why? Why not write about the five of you? It would be cathartic, I would think.”
God, so many reasons. Because of the crime we committed. Because of others who died. Because of secrets buried so deep, we almost convinced ourselves they never happened. But they did, and they’ve been clawing their way back to the surface ever since.
We all should have known that we couldn't outrun the truth forever. It was only a matter of time before the weight of it all came crashing down, suffocating us, forcing us to face what we did. We thought we could hide, bury the past like it would disappear. But no matter how deep you dig, it always finds a way to rise again.
“Cathartic?” I finally say. “No, Emily, it wouldn’t be cathartic. It would tear everything wide open. It would unravel everything we’ve spent years trying to hold together. There’s no release in talking about something like this. There’s only pain, and it wouldn’t stop. It would haunt us all over again.”
Emily reaches across the table and takes my hand. “My God, Sebastian. What the hell happened to torture you like this?”
EPISODE 171
TORMENT AND NEED
Emily
Sebastian’s usually ruggedly handsome face is so tormented, his cognac-hued eyes so darkened by pain that something stings my heart.
Another friend.
These four billionaires began not as a foursome but as a fivesome.
"Sebastian," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the waves in the distance.
He meets my gaze, a torrent of unspoken emotion flickering behind his sad eyes. Anguish, regret.
But something else, as well.
Determination, perhaps?
No.
Not determination.
Resolve.
It's resolve shimmering in the depths of Sebastian's gaze, like a spark refusing to be extinguished by the relentless waves of despair.
“Do you want to talk about any of this?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“We could walk,” I suggest. “Walk along the beach and—”