The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (228 page)

“Really?” Sawyer’s face lit up. Misery loves company. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“Not a lot,” I replied.

Only when people are missing, or someone’s stalking me, or all my friends stop talking to me, or a sexy video of me gets sent out to my entire school, or some guy I like asks me to be his long-distance girlfriend. So yeah. Hardly ever.

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed. “It happens to me all the time.”

The waiter delivered our menus and I set mine aside. After eating
here practically every morning of the trip, I had the thing memorized.

“I was having deep thoughts,” I confessed, crossing my arms on the tabletop.

Sawyer raised his eyebrows as he looked up from his menu. “About what?”

“Upton,” I replied.

“Oh.” He looked down again and set the menu aside. When his eyes met mine, there was something guarded in them, even as he attempted to smile. “What about him?”

“He wants me to be his long-distance girlfriend,” I told him. “He wants me to . . . commit.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Sawyer said firmly. He didn’t even hesitate. It was as if the words had been on the tip of his tongue for days, just waiting to vault out.

“I don’t?” I asked.

“It’s crap. Upton doesn’t commit. It’s not in his DNA,” Sawyer replied.

“But he—”

“Trust me,” Sawyer said in a no-nonsense tone. “Sure, he cares about you now. In the moment he’s all about whoever he’s with. But a girl like you . . . you’re too good for him. You don’t want to get in any deeper with Upton Giles. You’re just going to end up hurt.”

The way he said Upton’s name made it sound like an insult. Like he was talking about some gross venereal disease. My face started to burn. I might have been uncertain about committing to a transatlantic
relationship, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about Upton. That I didn’t think he was a good person. Yet here Sawyer was, insulting the guy to my face. Judging both of us, really.

The waiter came and took our orders. My hand trembled as I handed the menu back to him. There was a hot, frustrated anger bubbling under the surface of my skin, but Sawyer seemed oblivious. He took a sip of his water and crunched on an ice cube, leaning back in his chair.

“How do you know what kind of girl I am?” I asked.

Sawyer blinked. “What?”

“You barely know me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “How do you know what kind of girl I am? Maybe I
am
the kind of girl who wants to get in deeper with a guy like Upton. Who, by the way, has been nothing but sweet to me since I got here.”

My words hung in the air between us. Sawyer just sat there, staring at me. He didn’t blush or stammer or squirm. He didn’t move a muscle.

“Sorry,” he said finally. “You’re right. I don’t know you.”

I had no idea what to say next, but suddenly I didn’t feel like being there anymore. So much for a chat with Sawyer making me feel better. My foot bounced up and down under the table, expending some of my pent-up energy. I looked away and lifted my glass, preoccupying myself with a long sip.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. A knee-jerk no.

“You’re mad.” He let out a sigh. I had yet to look at him again, but I
heard him scoot his chair forward and, from the corner of my eye, saw him lean his torso into the table. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . you remind me so much of her, I guess I just assumed—”

“Who do I remind you of?” I asked, finally meeting his gray eyes.

Sawyer’s face flooded with color. “No one. Forget it.”

“No. There’s no ‘forget it’ now,” I said. “Who do I remind you of?”

He brought one hand to his forehead, pushing his thick bangs aside. “My sister. You remind me of Jen.”

My skin prickled, wondering what that meant, exactly. The waiter delivered our food—a neat stack of fruit-topped pancakes for me, scrambled eggs for Sawyer—but I didn’t even look at it. Sawyer held my gaze for a brief moment, but the effort was too much for him. He glanced away.

“It’s just really hard, being here without her,” Sawyer said, looking out at the ocean. “I didn’t want to come, but everyone insisted. And then seeing you . . . and you with him . . .”

My heart contracted. “Was Jen with Upton?”

Sawyer scoffed. His eyes looked glassy. “Everyone has been with Upton at some point.”

I knew this. Of course I knew this. It was all I had heard since before I’d met the guy. But my stomach turned nonetheless. Upton had been with Jen Hathaway. Sometime in the recent past, I had to assume, since it still stung Sawyer. A girl Upton had been with was dead. Had committed suicide.

Maybe he knew more about tragedy than I imagined.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t invite you here for this.
I thought . . . I just thought it would be cool to hang out. You know, without everyone else.”

I took a deep breath. It was well past time to change the subject. I was grateful for the opening. “You’re not big on crowds, huh?”

“Hate them,” Sawyer said with a small, but wry, smile. “Especially this one. I’ve known them since I was a kid, but I’ve never felt like they wanted me around.”

“Hmm . . . I’ve been getting that too,” I said.

“Jen made it easier,” Sawyer told me, lifting his knife. He paused. Both of us were moving slowly, as if tentatively testing the waters to make sure we wanted to continue in each other’s company. “She always figured out a way to get me involved.”

“Siblings can be good like that,” I said, thinking of my own brother, Scott, who had always let me hang out with his friends even when he thought I was a raving dork. I wondered how this trip might have been different if Jen were here. Whose side would she have taken? Paige, Poppy, and Sienna hadn’t spoken to me once at dinner last night. Hadn’t even looked in my direction. I wondered if Jen would have sided with them and given me the cold shoulder, or if she would have been okay with me and Upton.

If Sawyer was right—if Jen and I were anything alike—I liked to think she would have been on my side.

“That’s why I was so surprised when Kiran had the idea for this party. I thought she didn’t know I existed,” Sawyer said as he reached for the butter. “I’m kind of nervous about it, actually.”

“Nervous?” I said. “Why?”

“No one’s ever thrown a party for me before,” he replied, blushing. “And I’m not big on the spotlight.”

“Oh. Yeah. I get that.” I cut into my pancakes as a stiff breeze caused the tropical flowers to dance in their planters. My shoulders started to relax. For a minute there I’d gotten so embroiled in the drama, I’d forgotten where I was, but now the fresh air rushed over me. Soothed me. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t get too crazy.”

“Yeah?” Sawyer asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I mean, I still think you deserve a party, but it can be more like a soiree and less of a—”

“A brouhaha?” he asked.

“I was thinking hootenanny, but we can go with yours,” I joked.

Sawyer laughed and the last of the tension melted away from the table. Obviously he was still dealing with some strong emotions about his sister’s death, so I wasn’t about to hold a grudge about the things he’d said. I understood how that could happen. I was sure I’d said and done some regrettable things after Thomas had died. There was something reassuring about hanging out with someone who understood the dark side of things. Who wouldn’t judge me if ever I suffered from verbal vomit.

I had a feeling that Sawyer and I were going to be really good friends.

I gripped the underside of my seat as the sailboat tipped sideways and sea spray showered over me, stinging the bare patches of skin. My heart lurched as we tipped even further and I looked down at my life vest. Was this skimpy little thing really going to keep me afloat when we capsized?

“It’s beautiful out here today!” Upton shouted as he raced from one side of the boat to the other, turning this crank and adjusting that rod. He wasn’t even wearing a vest. What if he slipped and fell overboard? Then I’d be stranded on this boat all alone with no idea how to turn it around and save him. What the hell was he thinking, bringing me out here? What had I been thinking when I said yes? We should have been spending the day on the beach, where it was nice and dry and solid and safe.

“Having fun yet?” he asked jovially, hanging on to a sail line and swinging back and forth.

I forced myself to look out at the water, trying to see this beauty he was so hopped up about, but all I could see was me. Alone. Floating. Sinking. Almost drowning.

That was it. Forget this ‘brave Reed’ act. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“How much longer are we going to be out here?” I asked.

“What?” Upton replied.

“I don’t think I can do this!” I shouted, my knuckles smarting from the force of my grip.

Upton’s face paled. He seemed to really
see
me for the first time on our sail. He dropped down onto the gleaming wood deck and teetered his way over to me, hanging on to whatever ropes were in reach.

“Are you all right?” he asked, crouching in front of me.

“If this is your idea of lying low . . .”

Upton covered his eyes with his hand, then slid it down to cover his mouth. He looked stricken. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should have realized. To me this is relaxing, but obviously to you . . . I’m such an idiot.”

I didn’t say anything to refute this conclusion.

“I was going to anchor the boat out here for a little while,” he said. “But if you want to go back—”

“Anchor?” I said, my voice a squeak. “As in stop moving?”

“That’s generally what an anchor does, yeah,” he joked.

“I think I could maybe handle that.”

“All right, then. We’ll try it,” he said. “But if you want to go back, just say the word.”

“Thanks,” I said, already feeling more secure. “I will.”

Fifteen minutes later, the boat was at rest. Aside from the gentle lolling as it dipped up and down with the waves, there was no movement. Upton helped me up from my perch at the center of the boat and gripped me tightly as I walked on quaking legs to the stern. The area was lined with benches covered with colorful striped cushions. There was a picnic basket, filled with gourmet breakfast foods no doubt, in the center of the wood-paneled floor. I had yet to tell Upton about my early breakfast with Sawyer, figuring that if Sawyer had such negative feelings about Upton, then Upton might feel the same way about Sawyer.

“Is this okay?” Upton asked as I sank onto the soft bench.

“This’ll work,” I replied, my voice steady.

Upton sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I curled against him, my bulky life vest shifting awkwardly toward my opposite shoulder. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath my cheek, and I could just make out the beating of his heart. He ran his fingers back and forth over my upper arm and I sighed.

“Yeah. This will definitely work.”

Upton shifted and I tilted my head back so I could see him. He moved his fingers to my face and looked into my eyes intently, like he was trying to make out each and every fleck of color there. I smiled slightly and he leaned in to kiss me. The waves lapped at the underside of the boat. Off in the distance, a motor revved, and seagulls cawed overhead. I was no longer scared. We were alone out here, yes, but it didn’t matter. Because Upton was with me.

The kiss grew deeper and I gripped Upton’s shirt in my hand, pulling him closer to me. The stupid life vest was like a wall between our chests, and when I felt him fumbling for the buckles, I didn’t stop him. Forget safety. All I wanted was to feel Upton’s body as close to mine as it could get.

The buckles loosened. I flung one arm out of the vest, then sat up, pushing him back momentarily, to free myself from the other. The second the vest hit the floor, Upton nudged me back onto the cushions. Back, back, back until I was lying flat beneath him. He pulled away from our kiss for a moment to look me in the eye again. Make sure I wasn’t ready to stop. I so wasn’t. He smiled and kissed me again, resting his full weight over my body.

I wrapped my arms around him, pushed my hand up under the back of his shirt so I could feel his skin, which was insanely warm. Upton trailed kisses across my cheek and down my neck. His lips tickled my skin and I turned my head to the side so he could keep going. He brushed my hair away from my shoulder and traced a little circle on my skin with the tip of his tongue. It sent shivers right through me and I laughed.

Upton lifted his head and looked at me quizzically. “Miss Brennan, this is not a laughing matter,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Sorry,” I said, sliding away from him and sitting up a bit. I crooked one leg over the side of the bench and bent the other on the cushion. “I’ll try to be more discreet.”

“Good. Because laughter can really mess with a guy’s confidence, you know?” he said, still joking.

He picked up my ankle and rested my leg over his lap. Then he started running his fingertips up and down my shin. I bit my lip.

“No laughing,” he admonished.

I pressed my lips together. His fingers moved higher, tickling my knee. This was torture.

“No laughing,” he warned again.

He moved his fingers higher, caressing my bare thigh. Every inch of my skin grew hot. He looked at me. I wasn’t about to laugh. His fingers climbed higher. And higher. I felt them graze the hem of my shorts, but I didn’t take my eyes off his. He shifted his position and slipped his hand under the fabric. Higher. Higher. Laughter was no longer an issue.

I wanted to do this. Wanted to let him touch me. But at the last second, something snapped.

“Upton.”

He drew his hand away instantly. “I’m starting to sense a pattern here.” He wasn’t angry. Just disappointed.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .”

Ever since my conversation with Sawyer that morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jen Hathaway. When, exactly, had she been with Upton? How did she fit into the ever-expanding tangled mess of his love life? And if I looked like her, if I reminded Sawyer so much of her, did Upton see the resemblance as well?