Page 6 of The Best Wrong Move

I scoff playfully. She knows me well.

Keeping the phone held out in front of me, I walk along the edge of the couch toward the windows that lead out to the deck.

“That sofa looks comfy,” she points out. “I may need to sleep on it once I murder Brett and flee New York.”

I laugh. “You’re welcome to join me anytime.”

We make it to the wall of windows, and I hold her out in front of me as we both fall silent.

Panoramic views of the sea always make me tear up a little. It’s like seeing an old friend after being away for a long time. Too long this time. Even before my failed proposal to Rex, he had to beg me to take any vacation time. I was always too focused on working my way up at the station, never feeling like there was enough time to get away. But standing here, I’m reminded of just how big the world is — whether I’m there to witness the outer edges of it or not.

Abby looks happily transported as she takes in the swaying palms and lazy waves. I watch her shoulders uncurl from up around her ears, and her eyes slowly soften. Two months alone without her is going to be the longest I’ve ever been away from my friends or family.

“I like the yellow patio set,” Abby finally says, breaking her trance. I almost like watching her reaction more than the view. “Oh, and that umbrella with the little fringe thingy across the bottom. So vintage.”

“Let’s go down to the beach.” I swing her to the right so I can grab the handle of the sliding glass door.

“Olivia! Wait!” She suddenly sounds panicked.

I jump back instinctively before opening it, my head on a swivel. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t see?”

I flip the camera view around so we’re face-to-face again. Her mouth is open, eyes wide, like she’s just seen a ghost.

Chapter 4

My heart pounds in my chest.

“What do you meandon’t go out there?” I dart my eyes around the room, then out to the patio where she’d been looking.

“Okay. Don’t . . . panic.”

“Little late for that, Abby! What’re you talking about?” I slide head first behind the white leather couch that stands between me and the wall of windows. Of course there aren’t any curtains I could yank to block whoever is out there from seeing me. I’m completely vulnerable in here. “What’d you see?”

“Not one hundred percent sure.” It’s like she’s trying to remain calm, but her whole demeanor is making me want to hyperventilate. “I swear I just saw Rex out on your balcony.”

She purses her lips like she’s just made a crazed confession.

“No, you didn’t,” I pant into the phone. “Are you shitting me?”

“I’m not shitting you. It could have been my eyes playing tricks. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, and he was shirtless, which is not something I saw Rex do very often back in New York, but I swear it was him.”

I want to poke my head above the couch to see for myself, but the windows across the whole back half of the townhouse aren’t tinted, as far as I can tell. No window coverings and no tinted glass. Who owns this voyeuristic piece of shit townhouse?

And why would Rex fucking Thompson be out on my deck?

I’m sitting on an island, in the middle of an ocean, nearly five thousand miles from home. Abby has to be wrong.

The last time I saw Rex, he was at our old apartment asking if he could keep Toby, our cat, after humiliating me on national television. I’d thrown a handful of cat food at him on his way out. Then sat with my back pressed against the door while Toby purred at my ankles and ate the kibble scattered across the floor. I didn’t get up for an hour, praying I’d hear Rex’s knuckles tap quietly against the door, so he could tell me he wanted me back. While, at the same time, hating him so hard that I imagined him getting hit by a taxi on his way out.

“That would be completely impossible. Absolutely not. No way. The odds of Rex being here are just . . . I mean, he can’t be. Right?”

“Well.” Her voice rises, going from trying-to-calm-me-down mode to flipping-the-fuck-out mode. “You did say it’s a townhome, right? Shares a wall? And a deck?”

I maneuver onto my knees while staying in a crouched position. Then start rising up as slowly as I can, without attracting the attention of whoever is on the other side of that window.

The top of my head clears the back of the couch while I quickly scan the lanai.

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