Page 45 of Willow in the Wind

Stella was speechless. Silence thickened between them. Matt got up, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it in a single gulp.

Stella wanted to protest. She wanted to say,I did love you! So much!But she couldn’t find the words. Already, Matt was reaching for his car keys. He’d only had a glass of wine, she was pretty sure. But was it really safe for him to drive? Then again, she didn’t want to ask him to stay after what he’d just said.

It was as though they’d discovered another wound in their marriage.

Maybe it wasn’t healthy that they hung out like this.

Perhaps their friendship was too precarious.

Stella got up from the sofa and zipped up her sweatshirt. She felt as though her body didn’t belong to her.

“Drive safe and text me when you get home, okay?” she said.

Matt couldn’t look at her. “Good night, Stella. And congratulations again.”

Upstairs, Stella washed her face, brushed her teeth, flossed, and got into bed alone. It was after eleven, and she could hear the soft murmur of her daughter’s computer down the hall. Sleep wouldn’t find her easily.

And she didn’t want to think about Matt.

So she did what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She pulled out her phone and checked her messages.

Immediately, she was launched into the world of James Atkinson.

GWEN COTTRILL: Honey, you did amazing today. But why didn’t you tell me you were still in contact with J????

GWEN COTTRILL: We could have used that!

GWEN COTTRILL: Wait. My sources are telling me that you were not expecting him there. Those photographs read like you’re SURPRISED. Okay, this is going to do wonders for book sales.

GWEN COTTRILL: Give me a call in the morning. They want you AND James on Good Morning, America! Let’s set it up.

Stella closed her eyes. A wave of fear rolled over her. But now that she’d opened Pandora’s box, she had to see.

Stella found the tabloid photographs immediately. In them, she saw two forty-something people seeing one another for the first time in more than twenty years. Stella looked shocked andangry; her face was beet red. And James looked rugged and handsome and cool.

The headlines read:

“Memoirist Meets Ex-Lover After Twenty Years”

“Ex-Lover Crashes Book Launch of Memoir About Him!”

“A Nantucket Surprise! Stella Sutton’s Ex-Lover “J” Revealed!”

The journalists and tabloid writers had worked out who James was easily. And so, for the first time, Stella allowed herself to read about who James was in the year 2024.

James Atkinson was a quasi-famous music journalist who’d interviewed everyone from Paul McCartney to Frank Baxter to Alice Coltrane. He split his time between London and New York but had spent a few pandemic years in the Florida Keys, where he wrote and listened to music to pass his days. He was previously in bands in London but quit playing music in the early 2000s. He was the father of famous internet personality and musician Taylor Atkinson.

There was a video from Taylor Atkinson on TikTok. Stella took a breath and clicked.

There she was—beautiful Taylor Atkinson. She had her father’s eyes. She was speaking to the camera with her hands clasped, saying, “Thousands of you have reached out about an incident on Nantucket Island today involving my father. I just want to say that I am not at liberty to discuss my father’s personal life at this time. I hate being cagey with my followers, but family privacy is family privacy. I have plans to meet with him next week to discuss this further. I hope I can share more details with you then.” She smiled. She had a bass guitar strapped around her shoulders. “Until then, buy Stella Sutton’s book! It’s incredible! We have to support women artists! Ciao, babies!”

Taylor cut the video.

Stella sat up in bed and crossed her arms. Outside, it was pitch black, and the ocean crashed against the waves. It felt as though a storm was coming. Stella wasn’t sure if it was a real storm or just a metaphorical one—one meant to flip her world upside down.

She was frightened.

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