Page 44 of The Paradise Problem

“Because that’s stupid,” I say, but my smile softens my words. “Tell me more about your dad.”

She takes a deep breath, causing the bikini to press into her breasts, and I might dive into the monster soup just to cool my rapidly heating… Goddamn. My sanity certainly isn’t in this boat with me anymore. “He’s a Taurus,” she says, “loves fishing, and always has a baseball game on in the background. He’s worked on cars since he was a kid. He specializes in Volvos but can fix anything. And not just cars, actually: TVs, plumbing, refrigerators. He rebuilt the frame on your old couch when I hired some high schoolers to help me move and they dropped it. They wanted me to pay them in weed, so I’m not all that surprised they sucked at the job.”

I don’t know what face I’m making, but whatever silent emotion it’s communicating is enough to make her bark out a laugh. “I said they wanted me to; I didn’t say I did it! Who do you think I am, giving weed to America’s youth! Anyway, back to my dad. He’s amazing.”

The current is returning us to the island, but I steer the kayak with a gentle dip of the paddle into water. The closer we get, the more I can see beneath us. The jagged reef, schools of brightly colored fish, some kind of crustacean making its way along the sandy bottom. “What did he think about you coming here?”

“I didn’t tell him the specifics of our arrangement. I told him I was coming here to paint wedding portraits.”

“Good cover story.”

“Even if I told him everything, though, I think he’d understand. It’s good that I’ll be able to—” She cuts off, frowning below her arm. “It’s just a good thing I’m here, that’s all. I really appreciate the opportunity to make some money.”

My paddle stills in the water. “What were you going to say?”

“No, it’s really nothing.” She moves her arm, cupping her hands over her eyes to block the sun. “You may have noticed I have a tendency to overshare.”

“You were digging about my relationship with Alex. Isn’t this therapy hour? What’s said in the kayak stays in the kayak.”

She laughs but doesn’t elaborate further. It bothers me for reasons I can’t entirely dissect—and which certainly don’t feel fair—that she’s suddenly sealing up with me.

“Are we moving?” she asks, pushing up onto an elbow to watch.

“The tide is taking us back, but we can stay out here as long as you want.”

I squint, though, realizing a number of the boats are already returning to shore. Even from out here I can hear shouting.

“What is that?” Anna asks, pointing.

Paddling in earnest now, I tell her, “I don’t know. Something’s going on; let me see what it is.”

The second the kayak pushes up on the beach, I’m out and jogging over to where Jake is sitting on the sand, his leg covered in ice. “What the hell happened?”

Our father paces on the sand, on the phone with someone, voice raised. I get the impression the island doctor isn’t in-house today. Mom bends beside Jake, rubbing his back. It’s only now that I realize her cover-up has the word Gucci printed all over it, and she’s wearing bulky gold jewelry on her neck, wrists, ears, fingers.

“I got stung by something,” Jake says, and Anna’s head whips to me, her eyes wide like See? Death brew!

Eko winces. “We think it was a jelly, but they’re not often in these waters.”

Mom waves Anna closer, her bracelets clinking together along her thin wrist. “Dear, can you take a look at it?”

Anna recoils. “Why?”

I set my hand on her lower back. “Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor here, sweetheart.”

She snaps to attention with a muttered “Oh, right,” and, with obvious trepidation, approaches Jake’s rapidly swelling leg.

He gazes up at her, smirking. “What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Gingerly, Anna lifts the ice, gasping at the small wound there. She sets the ice back down, flushed, and nods decisively. “You’ll live.”

“You sure?” he pokes. “What’s the best thing for the swelling?”

“Ice,” I tell him flatly.

My brother grins at me. “I asked the doctor-in-training.”

“Ice,” Anna says robotically.

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