Page 23 of Forbidden Girl

“How can you keep me safe when you’re the danger? Your drugs and your guns and your heists and whatever other nasty stuff you deal in. You could’ve been a millionaire a thousand different ways, but you chose the ugliest way possible. Good job.”

I’ve stunned him into silence for the second time in as many days. It suits me fine; I don’t have anything left for him. I wipe my face and head over to my mother. She’s crying. I wrap my arms around her, and she does the same to me. “I’m leaving. I don’t think I’ll be back for the service. I can’t see Gino like that; it’s not how I want to remember him.”

“I understand.” When I pull away, she looks at me like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me. Part of me would love for her to be right. “I love you, topolina.”

“Love you, too, Mom.” This time, I kiss her cheek.

I don’t say goodbye to my dad, just grab the handle of my suitcase and roll it behind me. I’m out of the kitchen, out of the house, and in my car before I can feel bad about it.

I send Rowan a text letting her know that I’m on my way. She responds quickly.

Take Island Road all the way to the end. I’ll meet you at Sand Dollar Beach.

I type Sand Dollar Beach, Hermit Island, ME into my maps app. The drive will take two hours and forty-five minutes. That’s too much time to be alone in my head. I need music or I’ll go crazy. I open Spotify and Ellie Goulding’s lightly graveled voice streams through the speakers. Better. I sing along with her as I start the car up the driveway.

The Sand Dollar Beach parking lot is sprawling and mostly empty, save a few cars here and there. Rowan is sitting on the remnants of a weather-battered wooden post, where the gravel meets the sand dunes, a western wind whipping her ponytail about. She looks small. And sunken. Somehow emptier than I’d left her at the hotel yesterday morning. Was that yesterday? It feels like a whole other lifetime. A lot can change in a day. Some people die, others take lives—unintentionally or on purpose.

She spots me, stands up, shifts her weight from foot to foot. Apprehension is a new look for her. I’m sure she’s felt it before, but this is the first hint of it I’ve seen her display.

“Hey.” She can’t keep her gaze on me. Her focus drops to my rolling luggage. I relinquish my grip on its telescoping handle and cup her face with both hands. She still can’t look at me, despite me trying to force her to.

“Look at me.” She does. As strong-willed as she is, she finds it hard to refuse an order. There’s shame and regret in her eyes. “What you did is not who you are. Understand?”

“No. But I understand it’s not who I want to be.”

“That’s a start.”

“Can you just… kiss me please?”

I’m startled that she asks instead of tells, because that’s not her. She’s too confident to ask. But I think if I don’t kiss her, she’ll cry. And I want to, so I do—soft and sweet so she can taste the love on my lips. She whimpers into my mouth. It’s a one-note requiem. And then she’s holding me so tight to her it’s like we’re standing in an undercurrent that might sweep me out to sea. Maybe she thought she’d lost me. Maybe she’s thinking of all the ways she still could lose me. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

She rubs her nose against mine. “What a fucked up beginning to our first real date, huh? And I had some dope plans in mind, too. It feels wrong to have fun now.”

“It feels wrong not to. Gino was fun, always joking around and laughing. He never missed a chance to have a good time. So, can we try? For him. That’s how I want to honor his memory. Okay?”

“Okay, let’s try. First things first, take your shoes off.” Directions. That’s better. I slip my feet out of my sandals. She slips out of her slides. “Let’s go drop your stuff off at the campsite.” She grabs my bag with one hand and takes my hand into the other. As she leads me onto the beach, I think about how we’ve never even been out in public together before, let alone holding hands, and how nice it feels to be outside—with the sun beating down on us and the warm breeze licking our skin and her fingers laced between mine—without having to worry if anyone’s around to see it. I want this to be what my life looks like, us together, not needing to hide.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Rowan says. “The sundress is very you.”

It’s funny because it’s true. I’ve had this pink floral print mini since high school. It’s my favorite. And it’ll never go out of style. “What, this old thing?”

“Yes, that old thing.” She smirks.

The beach is deserted, which surprises me. Except in the distance, just out of reach of the waves at high tide, is a large tent. It’s more of a yurt than a tent—a tall central pole draped with canvas. As we get closer, I notice the logos slapped across it: Gucci x The North Face. I turn to her. She reads my expression. “You thought I was kidding, huh?”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe.”

“How did you find this in a day?”

“Didn’t you know there’s a Gucci outlet in Kittery? A North Face one, too. I get shit done.”

We walk past a firepit, two recliners, and into the tent. She puts my bag down at the foot of an air mattress, inflated, draped with sheets, and ready to sleep in. “This is a glampsite, not a campsite. Hold on, how is this all set up already?”

“It’s amazing what DoorDash will deliver, and to where, and how willing people are to do manual labor when you flash a wad of hundred-dollar bills at them.”

“Oh my God, Rowan, you sound like my father.”

---