Page 34 of The Plus-One Deal

He made a wide-eyed face. “What do you mean?”

“You almost said something else, instead of the sunfish thing.”

Conrad finished his coffee, then glanced around. “It was pretty gruesome, actually. This diver went missing. No one saw him for days, then?—”

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me.”

“They’re all gathered round the window on this glass-bottomed boat, Joe and his kids, two other families. They’re spotting fish, turtles, when suddenly?—”

“No.”

“He bobbed right up and banged on the window, this grinning death’s head, this?—”

“Okay, shut up!” I smacked Conrad’s arm a little too hard. “Tell that story to Verity, or anything like it, andyou’llbe the one feeding the fish.”

“Sorry,” he said, and rubbed where I’d smacked him. I studied him more closely and saw he looked tired.

“How late were you up last night?”

“I’m not sure. It was light when I got into bed.” He yawned, cracked his neck, and slapped his cheeks lightly.

“If you’re too tired for this, to keep up our game?—”

Verity came bouncing back to us, waving her beach bag. “I had it the whole time. My sunscreen, I mean. Got halfway across the lobby, and Ken made me check. Can you imagine, if we’d tossed our whole room?”

“I’m fine,” whispered Conrad, soft in my ear.

Through clenched teeth, I hissed back, “You’d better be.” But I found his hand and squeezed it under the table. Conrad had never failed me. I trusted him, still.

I grabbed us both some more coffee on our way to the docks, a latte for me, a triple espresso for Conrad. He took it gratefully and downed a huge gulp. I noticed Verity noticing, but she just smiled.

“We’re not morning people either. But the sea air should help.”

Soon, we were gliding away from the shore, watching the lush resort dwindle behind us. I’d forgotten to ask how long this tour was, or where it went, or if Conrad got seasick. But he didn’t seem sick, watching the beach fall away. He seemed more distracted, his brow furrowed in thought. Like part of him was off somewhere else. I was about to ask where when Verity piped up.

“The water’s so clear. Claire, come and see.”

I turned away from the railing and peered through the window. Sure enough, I could see all the way to the bottom, the ripplesthe sun made on the soft ocean sand. Little fish darted this way and that, in and out of the rocks and the wavering kelp.

“What kinds are they? Ken, where’s our guidebook?”

I looked up at Conrad and saw he was back on his phone, his lips pressed together as he tapped on his screen. It buzzed in his hand and he slipped on his headset, and next thing I knew he was taking a call. He shuffled away from us, but we could still hear them, and Ken closed his guidebook and put it away.

“Sorry,” I said, smiling through my annoyance. “It must be an emergency, or he wouldn’t?—”

“You’re kidding,” said Conrad, too harsh, too loud. I laughed at nothing to cover him, and immediately felt stupid.

Verity smiled. “It’s okay. I’m sure we’ve all been there.”

I was sure we had, butI’dturned my phone off. I’d made sure I wouldn’t be there while I was here.

“Oh, turtles,” said Ken, pointing down at the window. “Check out that big one. I think he sees us.”

I peered down at the turtle, and I thought Ken was right. The turtle was swimming with its head to one side, its hooded eye turned up to our window. Its flippers worked lazily, keeping pace with our boat. Verity giggled.

“Maybe he’s out on an us-spotting tour. He’ll go home to his kids later and say ‘I saw them. Two pretty, bright ones and two all in beige.’”

“Khaki,” said Ken. “And my shirt’s dusty rose.”

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