Chapter 2
Alex

As always, Alex was up as soon as the pitch-black sky started to lighten. He’d always let the sun dictate his mornings. Just before dawn was the only time the heat and humidity were absent from a Saint Rose summer. He pulled on his jersey, Nike shorts, and Brooks shoes before sneaking downstairs for his morning run. Immediately, he was on autopilot. His body had memorized the loop of half the island years ago.

By the second mile, he’d lost himself in memories and thoughts. When he’d left the island at twenty, he swore he’d never come back. He was turning thirty this year. How the hell have I already been sucked back here for almost four years?

Like always, a crystal-clear picture of his wife filled his mind. Late wife, he reminded himself.

He hated that word. It was almost as bad as “widower.” Even more, he hated the way people looked at him when they found out or were reminded. That combination of pity and sorrow. And what am I supposed to say, anyway? Oh, thanks, but don’t worry about it. She was a cheating bitch?

Alex shook his head, willed Rebecca out of his mind. Ex-wife, he repeated to himself. Ex-wife.

Of course, she’d never had the chance to become his ex-wife. How was it fair that she got the late wife title, made him a widower before he was even thirty?

If I could go back to that night . . .

“Stop it,” Alex told himself aloud. His voice sounded thunderous in the otherwise quiet. Before dawn, the island was most still. The crickets had retired for the night and the neighbors’ roosters weren’t awake yet. He concentrated on his breathing as he rounded the familiar oak tree at the start of the Harris property, the one with the branches that looked like they were praying.

Why’d she get the easy way out? The night of the accident, he’d finally bundled up the nerve to tell her he wanted a divorce. I should have stopped her. I knew she’d been drinking.

“She wasn’t drunk,” he told the darkness that had started to turn to pink.

“Just barely over the limit,” was what the sheriff had told him. “Point oh nine.”

He remembered the raised silver brow of the sheriff perfectly but not his name. But the coroner? With her, he remembered everything. First name, last name, and how her buttoned-up shirt clashed with her bright-red hair. “Fetal alcohol syndrome can be caused at the first trimester, you know,” she’d told him.

“Fatal what?” he’d asked, dazed.

“Fetal alcohol syndrome? Oh, you didn’t . . . your wife, she was . . .”

“Was what?” Alex had demanded as he pulled and played with his wedding ring in the cold waiting room.

“She was pregnant. Not far along at all, about ten weeks. I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Alex said as he came to the end of his run. He was covered in sweat. The first time he’d run more than a couple of miles had been the night he’d found out. It had been intuitive. He’d gotten home from the coroner’s, put on his gym shoes, and had just run until his legs felt like they’d give out.

The next morning, he’d dumped the bacon—Rebecca’s favorite brand—right into the trash. By the time he’d purged the refrigerator, pantry, and cupboards of anything that wasn’t purely healthy, there was barely anything left. In nearly four years, he’d transformed his body into a flawless temple fueled by high protein and good fats, accompanied by a rigid running regimen and a lifting schedule in the afternoons he never deviated from.

Rebecca would be proud, he thought as he grabbed a towel in the mudroom and wiped down his chest. She’d given him hell for his aversion to the gym, his unhealthy diet, all throughout their marriage. “You’re taking yourself right to an early grave,” she’d always chided. “And leaving me where?”

“Look who’s talking,” he said as he opened the fridge to retrieve the bottle of whey protein shake he’d made last night.

The kitchen was quiet, but it wouldn’t be for long. Soon enough, his mama would be awake and whipping up a full breakfast to showcase that southern hospitality. Given that girl who’d arrived, there was no doubt his mama would go all-out.

“Y’all be hospitable to her, now,” Mama had said when she’d told him, Caleb, and Lee about her.

“Hospitable?” Alex had nearly barked. “The inn’s been in our family since 1852! And she just expects to show up, and—”

“That’s enough,” his mama had said, quieting him with a single finger in the air. “Do as I say.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said. Alex had left the room before he was tempted to argue more.

The sun had started to creep over the horizon. He shot upstairs and jumped in the shower to rinse off quickly before heading downstairs to fix his breakfast. Otherwise, he’d never have the kitchen to himself.

Alone in the kitchen, he scrambled some egg whites mixed with spinach and hunkered down at the round table in the nook. By the time he’d finished his plate, he could hear his mama in the kitchen whisking pancake batter together.

“Mornin’, Mama,” he said as he rinsed his plate.

“Good mornin’, baby,” she said. “Y’all sleep well?”

“Well enough,” he said, his usual reply to their morning pleasantries. His mama’s makeup was already on and flawless, an A-line navy dress beneath her spotless white apron. She’d given up long ago on convincing him to “dress proper” for meals. “Why don’t you let the cook do that?” he asked as he watched her manage breakfast with finesse.

“I like to cook when I can,” she said as she turned on a second burner. “Wouldn’t hurt you to learn to cook a little, either,” she added pointedly.

“Mama, don’t start,” he said. “I never hear you telling Caleb he needs to learn to cook.”

“Caleb? Honey, I’ll die a happy woman if your brother ever even learns to operate the toaster. Besides, he’s the baby of the family,” she said with a sigh. “You know what they say ʼbout them.”

“Too busy sailing the high seas and chasing sirens to learn what a frying pan is?” Alex asked.

His mama swatted at him. “Don’t you be talking about your brother like that. He can’t help he’s a ladies’ man.”

“Yeah, that’s what he is,” Alex said.

“Hush, now. Can you get those melons Lee picked up from the stand, baby? They’re in the spare pantry.”

He was happy to have an excuse to escape the conversation, though he hated being reminded of Lee. He looked so old. When he’d left the island ten years ago, Lee had already signed on for a life of helping to run the inn. How he did that while still being the island’s game warden, Alex didn’t know. What he did know was that he saw that spark between his best friend—former best friend—and Rebecca the first time he’d brought her to Saint Rose. It was the primary reason it had also been the last time.

In four years, Alex and Lee had managed to speak no more than a handful of words to each other.

“Here you go, Mama,” he said, setting down the ripe melons on the butcher-block countertop.

“Thank you. Oh, and the berries, too? I’m sorry, it just slipped my mind that Matt picked a whole bushel of them the other day. Out on the back porch,” she said as she started to whip homemade cream.

Alex sighed and went to the back porch. Matt and his perpetual need to impress. As if Yale Law School and two Ironmans aren’t enough. He could barely remember Matt from childhood. He’d always just been the weird cousin whose room was lined with trophies. When Mama had told them that Matt was moving in with them when they were teenagers, he’d immediately tried to argue.

“He’s your cousin, Alex,” Mama had said. “And his parents just died,” she added in a whisper, as if Matt were already there. “Show a little empathy, please.”

He picked up the bags of berries. Already, the morning heat had started to settle over the estate. At least that fancy degree’s been good for something, he thought as he surveyed the land. It was Matt who got Greystone on the historic registry, which came with the option to apply for grants to update it.

When he got back to the kitchen, his brother, Lee, and Matt hovered around the Keurig. Caleb and Lee were in their usual casual clothes. Matt, as always, looked like he’d spent just as much time getting ready as Mama.

“No,” Mama said as Caleb tried to steal one of the few golden pancakes. “And we’ll be taking breakfast in the formal dining room today.”

“Why so fancy?” Caleb asked as he poured creamer into his favorite mug.

“Her highness,” Alex said as he nodded upstairs.

“Alex,” Mama said, a warning in her tone. “And just so you know, we’ll be waiting to all eat together, too. Y’all can have some toast if you’re peckish.”

“Mama,” Alex said but was cut off by Matt’s immediate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“This girl’s causing nothing but headaches,” Alex grumbled under his breath.

“Beg your pardon?” Mama asked with a raised brow. “You say somethin’?”

“No, ma’am,” he said as he watched Caleb examine the settings on the toaster like it was a spaceship. “Medium’s usually pretty safe, Captain,” he said.

“Thanks, man,” Caleb said. He gave him a lopsided grin.

“And Alex, don’t think you’re skipping breakfast with the family this morning,” Mama said. “I don’t care if you already ate. I’ll make some of that bland egg white nonsense if that’s what it takes. You’re not going to be rude.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said sullenly.

When the girl finally came downstairs, she was dressed in what Alex could only consider hiking clothes. The light khaki shorts hugged her hips, and he could tell the seemingly plain white T-shirt was expensive.

“Mmm, smells great!” she said. Her long brown hair was knotted up on top of her head. “What is it?” she asked.

He tried not to look at her as Mama ushered her toward the formal dining room and ticked off the lavish breakfast she’d made. That was his policy for women. Don’t look, and definitely don’t touch. After all, he’d had enough women in the past few years to last a lifetime. When he really needed a warm body, there was always Erica. That widow out in Savannah knew where he was coming from. No talking, just fucking, and that suited both of them.

Still, as he sat down to breakfast with Matt on one side and Mama on the other, he couldn’t help but notice how hot Faith was. Those lips were incredible. It was the kind of pout women paid thousands of dollars for. The kind Rebecca tried in vain to copy with lip-plumping gloss and overdrawing her lips.

“Sugar, Faith? Cream?” Mama asked her.

“Oh no. Thank you. I like it black,” Faith said. When she parted those full lips to smile, Alex had to look down.

It had taken all his willpower not to let his eyes linger on her ass when she’d gone into the dining room. She wasn’t just hot. She was stupid hot. The kind of sexiness that only a big city could produce.

Across the table from him, Faith responded warmly to Caleb’s flirtations. But there was a wall up in front of her that was nearly palpable. “You a teacher?” Caleb asked her.

“No,” Faith said with a laugh. “Why do you ask? Do I look like a teacher?”

Not like any teacher I ever had, Alex thought.

“I don’t know,” Caleb said as he eyed her. “But I ask because you got the summer off.”

“Oh. Well no, not really,” Faith said. “I’m an attorney, but I’m working remotely for a few weeks.”

“I am, too,” Matt piped up.

Alex knew it came off as being interested, but what Matt really wanted to see was if she was any competition.

“What field?”

“Corporate law,” Faith said. She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds boring, I know,” she told the rest of the table.

“Not at all,” Matt said. “I’m in estates, mostly. Not much demand for corporate law round here,” he said with a practiced smile.

Faith laughed again. “Yes, I suppose not.”

“Corporate law is fascinating, though. I took a few additional electives on it. At Yale. That’s quite impressive that you found a firm in San Francisco. So early out of law school, I mean.”

“Why do you think it’s so early?” she asked, dredging a triangle of pancake in syrup.

“Well, I just assumed,” Matt said. “Because you’re so young.”

Faith giggled. “Twenty-six, but thank you,” she said.

What in the hell? Is Matt flirting? He scowled in Matt’s general direction. Caleb, he was used to, but this was a first. Women. They always do this. Turn men into animals who only seek out pleasure.

“So what are your plans for today?” Matt asked her.

“Actually,” Mama said as she finished the last slice of melon. “Alex is going to take Faith up. Show her our little island.”

“Oh,” Matt said, dejected.

“Yeah, I’m really excited,” Faith said. “I’ve never been in anything but a commercial plane before.”

“Well, are you ready to go or not?” Alex snapped at her.

She fumbled, caught off guard. “Oh! Sure, yeah. Let me just—”

“Alex,” Mama said firmly. “Watch yourself.”

“Meet me down at the landing strip in thirty minutes, then,” he said. “May I be excused?” he asked Mama.