Page 171 of Deep End

“Well, you better fix that quickly,” he says, pulling into the driveway of a red two-story house. The roof is pitched, and the green of the surrounding trees is almost cartoonishly bright. “Because we’re here.”

“Your father’s home?”

“Yes. He’s very excited about you coming, by the way.” “Oh, god. Youtoldhim?”

“Of course.”

I cover my face. Pray for the car seat upholstery to wrap around me like a boa constrictor and release me from this ignominy.

“He’s very happy. I told him you’re smart and you like nature. He’s glad you’re Lukas’s first girlfriend.”

“I am not his girlfriend, and he dated Pen forseven years.”

Jan shrugs. “Dad never met her, so he thinks Lukas made her up.”

This is a terrible mistake. “It’s nearly eleven. Is Lukas usually awake?”

“No, not usually.”

Crap. “Then I should go to the hotel and come back tomorrow?”

“Well, he’s notusuallyawake, but he clearly is tonight.” He takes the keys out of the ignition to point at the house, and when I follow that line . . .

Lukas is leaning against the porch baluster, arms crossed on his chest. His usual barefoot self, but wearing jeans and a T-shirt—notpj’s. He does not have the look of someone who just got out of bed. In fact, the curl of his mouth holds no trace of surprise.

He’s been waiting for me.

“You told him,” I accuse.

“I did not,” Jan assures me, placid as usual. “Believe me, I would not get on the bad side of my future sister-in-law this early in the relationship.” He slips out, and short of carjacking this vehicle and flooring it back to the airport, I have no choice but to do the same. But after a couple of steps I freeze, because Lukas is coming toward us, that half-smug, half-pleased smile still on his beautiful face.

He tells Jan something in Swedish that starts withtack(thank you) and contains the wordtroll, but despite my religious Duolingo sessions, I cannot follow any further. Jan grasps his shoulder as he passes by, and then turns around before entering the house. “Scarlett.Lycka till!”Good luck.

“Thanks,” I reply, too weakly for the sound to carry. “I’ll need it.”

“No, you won’t,” Lukas says, clearly amused. “What did I tell you?”

“Many things.” For reasons that probably only Sam could list,I’m already crying. A couple of fat, lonely tears. “Which one are you referring to?”

He shakes his head. His fingers come up to dry my cheeks, and my heart swells so much and so fast, I feel as though I could take flight.

“In the palm of your hand, Scarlett. From the very start.”

I screw my eyes shut at the sweet, bitter pain of his words. I have to wind down. Things to say. Peace to make.

“How did you know I was coming? Did Pen tell you?”

“You never stopped sharing your location with me.”

“I know that. But still, you’d have to havecheckedwhere I was to . . .”

Oh.

“I can’t sleep unless I know where you are.” His shrug is delighted. Unapologetic. “And during the day . . . I just feel better keeping tabs. Control, you know?” He leans in and presses a single, soft kiss to my hair, murmuring, “I’d say sorry, but you should probably just get used to the way I am.”

My laugh is choked. Breathless. “So you just . . . know everything?”

“Noteverything.” He pulls back. Even the blue of his eyes is more vivid. “I know that you came here to see me—even though I did briefly wonder if you were just in the mood fordammsugare. I can only imagine the rest. That you’re scared, for instance?”

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