“That went fast,” Josephine says as we climb up the stairs and onto the plane. My alcohol-fueled plan to leave early didn’t pan out. Instead, we went to bed.

Getting up this morning was a hard sell, to say the least.

“You went fast,” I tell her, and she laughs.

Still, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we could settle into something like normalcy. Normalcy, only with a dash of Josie. Back in the city, we can find a balance between work and play.

Though play is definitely higher on my priority list. 

At the top of the steps, I turn to take one last look at the island, with its lush tropical trees, the glimmering ocean in the distance. It’s kind of romantic, in a way. Julia and Dex were right. I did need this. Even if it didn’t turn out like I thought it would. At all. “I’m going to find a seat.” Josie plants a kiss on my cheekbone and disappears inside the plane. 

One last breath of the tropical air, and I’m ready to duck inside, too.

“Mr. Cash!”

The voice is weak in the breeze, but I turn back.

“Mr. Cash!” 

A man wearing one of the resort’s green polos is sprinting across the tarmac toward the plane, something shiny in his hand. A plastic bag? Maybe I forgot something in the suite. I walked through twice before we left, but after yesterday, I’m not leaving anything to chance. 

I jog down to the bottom of the steps to meet him, pretending I’m not feeling the effects of yesterday. He jogs to a stop, sweat beading on his forehead. “Excuse me.” He takes a deep breath and pats his chest. “Sorry about that, Mr. Cash. I wanted to get this to you before your flight left.” He hands me the bag. It’s a thick plastic drawstring bag with a few things stuffed inside of it. A shirt, looks like. A watch. A necklace. None of it’s mine.

“I don’t think this is—”

“It’s for Ms. Paxton,” he explains. “The team working on the bungalow found a few more items while they were stripping it. Anyway, her booking said she’d be out at the same time as you, and our driver mentioned—” He shrugs, flashing me a brilliant smile. “I’m sure you can be trusted to give it to her.”

“Of course.” I pat him on the shoulder and pull a bill out of my wallet. We both give each other a nod when I press it into his hand. The man did run all the way through the airport, it looks like, and across the blazing tarmac to get her this bag of what looks like random trinkets. “Thank you.”

“We hope you’ll come back to Emerald Shores soon, Mr. Cash.”

I’ll probably own Emerald Shores soon, but that’s neither here nor there. “I’d love to.”

One more nod, almost a little bow, and then he’s turned back toward the airport. 

I climb up the stairs to the plane two at a time. The air-conditioned cool feels like actual heaven on my skin. “Good morning, Mr. Cash,” the flight attendant says, a graceful woman who looks like she might be in her early forties.

“Is it still morning?” The closer we get to take-off, the more buoyant I feel. Yes, I needed to get out of the office, and I’m glad as hell that I met Josie—the real Josie—at Emerald Shores—but I want to be back in the city. I want to be back where I’m needed. I had enough time to feel sorry for myself about not following my college dreams while we were at the beach.

“They found more of your things,” I tell Josie. She’s sitting in the lounge area, still wearing her sunglasses, looking out the window. 

“My things?” She looks up at me with a little frown. “From the bungalow?”

“Yeah. It looks like a shirt, a necklace, and—” I turn the bag over in my hands. On the other side is one of the notepads from the resort. Emerald Shores appears in fancy writing at the top. But below that is a list. Skills and experience is the first section. Notes underneath. And then… Three months until cut off!! Plan: Find a job. Use contacts? Marry rich!!

My stomach is in a free-fall. “And what?” Josie says, lifting her sunglasses.

“A notepad.” Three months til cut off sounds like an impending financial disaster. It sounds a lot like that. But the knife that twists in my chest are the words marry rich. 

Everything we did together on the island flashes through my head, a series of memories through a new and unattractive filter. Did she get drunk that first night on purpose? Did she wait there, and let that man touch her, only so I would rescue her? She couldn’t possibly have planned the tree falling on her bungalow, but what about the curious lack of rooms at the resort? Was it all staged?

The night she wept and told me about her sister…was that a fucking lie, too?

“What notepad?” Josie reaches up and takes the bag, flipping it around so she can see it. She squints at the writing. Her face goes white. “Oh, God,” she says, the words a soft admission. 

It’s more than enough to confirm my worst fears.

Josie must realize it at the same moment I do, because she tosses the sunglasses to the side and stands up. “Charlie, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“What happened, Josie? Be honest with me. For once. Did you lose your job?”

The pale color on her face is replaced with a burning red. “I didn’t—” She can’t look me in the eye. “I didn’t exactly have one. Not one that meant anything, really, it was more of a…it was more of a volunteer position, something I did a couple of days a week, when I—”

She’s changing, right in front of me, from a woman handling the pain of a recent breakup to a spoiled con artist who wanted me for security. Just like everyone else.

“Three months until what’s cut off, then?”

“My…” Josie looks absolutely mortified. “My allowance, I guess. My parents have been picking up my tab since…well, since forever,” she says, trying to save it with a smile. It doesn’t work. Do I feel numb or on fire with rage? I can’t tell anymore. Josie lifts a hand to her hair, running her fingers through it. “But that’s not—” She lets out an embarrassed bark of a laugh. “That’s all going to be over anyway, because I—”

“Because you decided to find someone and marry rich?” 

The words feel like acid on my tongue, and they must feel like acid to her ears, because she flinches. “I wrote that as a joke, Charlie. That first night at the bar—”

“Yeah, that first night at the bar. When you let me rescue you from that asshole.” I’m drawing away from her, putting space between us. I can’t help it. I don’t want her to touch me, because if she touches me, she might be able to get back in.

I let her in before, and I shouldn’t have.

Letting her in again is the wrong fucking thing to do, especially since it would put my business, and my family, at risk. I know that like I know the sun rises in the east. I can’t expose them to a woman who’s desperate for money and willing to do anything to get it.

Josephine tries one more time. “That’s not what it was,” she says, but it sounds weak. False.

She reaches for my hand.

I back up one more step. “You know what?” My chest is a firestorm. “It was a good time, Josephine. A really good fucking time. You were right about that.” I want to say more, say worse, but I swallow the words. That’s not me. “But I think we’re done here.”

“Charlie—”

“If you’d take your seats,” the flight attendant says, just off my elbow, in a voice that brooks no argument. “We’re cleared for take-off.” She looks from me to Josie and back again. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Get us out of here,” I tell her. “Please. I have no more time left to waste.”