Brothers of Paradise Series

Lily insists on introducing me to our old friends in town. There weren’t many, but some are left, and she’s clearly gotten closer with them over the years.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

It’s a dizzying amount of names and incredulity. Is it really you, Jamie? Yes, it really is. Are you back, for good? Yes, I am. Where are you staying? What are you doing? What, where, how, who, why?

My eyes note the perfectly blow-dried hair, and dresses ten times the price of mine, as they share a laugh about the PTA at Paradise Elementary.

A cold sweat breaks out across my back when they start talking about their husbands. What’s my official story about Lee? Avoidance has been the one so far. But if I’m staying here, it won’t be good enough, not when Emma starts school.

Lily has always known my moods better than I have myself. She excuses us after a particularly lengthy discussion about mortgages-I am so far from being a home owner-and walks us toward the drinks table.

“That was a lot,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“They’re nice, and they mean well. But they’re sometimes best consumed in small doses.”

I laugh weakly and accept another glass of white wine. “Yeah, I can see that. But you eat brunch with them? Have playdates with your kids?”

She shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. “Yes. They’re not you, Jamie, or how we were, but it’s a community. I think you can like them. If you were to give them a chance.”

That makes me nod. Once, I’d been quick to judge everyone. Life has taught me better than that. “You’re right. I will, I promise.”

She nods, but her eyes quickly sparkle with interest. We’re alone and she can ask the question she’s been dying to. “So you came as my brother’s date?”

I take a deep sip of the wine. “I plead the fifth.”

She laughs. “He gave me an earful after the barbecue.”

“He did?”

“God, yes.” Lily rolls her eyes. “He was so protective of you, it was silly. Don’t put any pressure on her, don’t force her to label anything. Don’t tell anyone. And Lily, don’t you dare ask for any intimate details.”

She parodies Parker’s voice with the skill only a younger sister has and I can’t help but smile. “He said all that?”

“Oh, yes. It was like he was afraid you’d get spooked or something if I added any pressure. I told him, very sternly I might add, that you’re not made of glass. Whatever you’ve gone through, I know you, Jamie, and you’ve got a spine of steel.”

I have to swallow. “Thank you. I don’t know about all that, though. I think I forgot who I was for a few years.”

Her gaze softens. “It’s a good thing you’re home, then, and surrounded by people who can remind you of it.”

We’re joined by an old high school teacher and the party spins ever onwards, conversation after polite conversation. I’m aware of where Parker is throughout. My eyes are drawn to him. I can see him across the crowd, holding court, a glass of red wine in his hand. At ease even here. The same golden steadiness radiates from him wherever he goes. If an accident happened, if a guest fell into the water, the yacht club ran out of food, I know exactly who’d take the lead. Him.

And he’d do it all without complaining.

The group Parker’s with all laughs at something he says. Effortless, I think. Life beside him would mean more of these events. Would mean everyone talking to him, to us, all the time.

He would constantly have to justify being with me. Others wouldn’t understand. He could have anyone.

My gaze snags on a woman standing by the buffet. Her profile is strikingly familiar, and suddenly I’m back in high school, watching Blair Davids.

She was in the same grade as Parker and I’d always suspected they’d dated for a while. She looks like a polished version of her eighteen-year-old self, with beautiful blonde hair and a happy smile. And as I watch she waves to Parker.

He gives her a smile back and they talk, exchange a half hug. It’s nothing special. Just friendly.

But they look so good together. The kind of woman he should be dating.

“Jamie, dear,” Eloise Marchand says, bringing me back into the conversation. “Spotted someone you know?”

Dear. Lily’s mother had always called me dear, and my artistic pursuits inspired, even when I was clearly not her first pick of friends for her daughter. She’d hated my nose piercing and she’d once called my hairstyle a travesty. But she had never once been disrespectful of me as Lily’s best friend.

Would I be good enough for her son?

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say. “Most of the town is here. It’s a beautiful event-even better than I remember them.”

She preens, and above her glass of wine, Lily winks at me. I haven’t forgotten the way to her mother’s heart.

I excuse myself a few minutes later to check my phone. It’s late afternoon, and my mother and Emma should be back home by now. My mom is brilliant at check-ins. As if she knows just how nervous I am about Emma, she sends me updates all the time.

The latest one is in, making me grin. We have sand everywhere. I’m going to have to scrub our scalps.

But the second message on the screen melts my smile right off my face. It’s from Lee.

You went back to the town you grew up in, didn’t you? And here I thought you were serious about being independent. That town sounded like nothing but safety nets and money. Everything you once said you hated. Think you’ll fit in now? Or that I’ll let my daughter grow up in a place like that? She’s too good for it, and you’ve sunk too low for it.

I read the words again. And again. Every sentence is a carefully designed dagger, my mind reading it in his voice, and dread unfurls its night-black wings in my stomach.

He’s right.

I’ll never fit in. This summer has been one long game of pretend. Who do I think I am? To show up at the White Party with Parker?

I start walking down the boardwalk, away from the party, fighting the urge to run. Emma is my first instinct. The next is the ocean. If I swim far enough I’ll disappear, and so will my problems.

A gust of wind sweeps in from the waves. It catches my hair and untangles the careful curls I’d made in front of the mirror earlier. I take a deep breath and let the salty air wash away the dark haze of his text.

Lee is wrong.

I know that.

It takes me another minute to shake off the yoke of the message, of his words, of his voice in my head.

And then real terror kicks in.

He knows where I am. And he won’t let his daughter grow up here. Which means it’s only a matter of time before he’s here.

JAMIE

I make it to Paradise Point, to the bench right at the outcrop. The late-afternoon sun is starting to drop, hinting at a warm evening to come. I’m far enough away now that I can’t hear the music.

And they can’t hear me.