Page 98 of The Best Wrong Move

I toss the phone onto the cushion next to me and slump down on the sofa, putting my head in my hands.

A few hours ago, I saw my whole life falling into place — only to have everything stripped away in one fell swoop. This entire trip I’ve pleaded, begged, and questioned my fate. But all I can say for certain, in this exact moment, is that fate, the universe, or whoever is pulling the strings of my life — none of it makes any sense.

* * *

After sleeping hardly a wink, I take the first available Uber to Dom’s house the next morning. My redeye flight back to New York takes off at eight thirty tonight, but I’m not leaving this island until I’ve had a chance to set the record straight.

Abby is giving me a pep talk on the way over.

“Don’t leave until Dom agrees to talk to you in person,” she says.

“You’ve never dealt with people like Quinton and Selma,” I tell her. “The way they are on-screen is nothing like who they are in real life. And after the way Dom left here last night, it’ll be a miracle if I can get past them.”

“First rule of negotiation,” she coaches. “Don’t let the conversation end on your side. Keep it going. As long as they’re listening to you, there’s still a chance.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper when we pull up to the driveway. “They’ve got to have cameras all over this place. I’m sure they already know I’m here and they’re all just watching me from inside.”

I feel like I might be sick.

“Just go up there, head high. You didn’t do anything wrong and you’re going to help them figure that out.”

“Thanks, Abs,” I say, wishing she was here.

“Call me after.”

My heart sinks when Selma answers the door.

“Oh. You.” She looks stripped of all patience. “Olivia, Dom isn’t here this morning.”

She starts to shut the door.

“So you do know my name!” I blurt out, holding the door open. It’s a bold move to entice her into talking to me, so she’ll tell me where he is, or at least not immediately slam the door in my face.

It seems to work — she rolls her eyes but doesn’t shut the door quite yet. “Of course I know your actual name. Believe it or not, I was excited to meet you last night.At first.Congratulations on your engagement, by the way.”

I try not to imagine how upset Dom must have been when he got back home. Selma and Quinton will probably blackball my name all over Hollywood after this.

“He needs to give me a chance to explain. I’m not engaged. Dom walked in on something he should never have seen last night. Something that shouldn’t have happened at all. My ex was out of line.”

“Quinton told me about you pitching him down by the pool after I went to bed.” She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. “If you weren’t just using Dom to get to Quinton, then how do you explain that part?”

“Can you tell me where he is? Just give me a chance to explain.”

“Sorry, honey.” Just as the door is about to click shut, another hand curls around the edge to stop it.

When it swings back open, Dom is standing on the other side. His hair is mussed and his eyes look exhausted. He must have slept as poorly as I did.

“Oh, thank God,” I say. “Talk to me. Please.”

He looks over at Selma, who shrugs at him and walks away. “Was she acting like I wasn’t here?”

“Honestly, I would probably do the same thing if I was her right now. But you have to let me explain.”

Finally, he steps outside and shuts the door behind him. “I’d rather not walk you through the house right now. Quinton and Selma are nasty when they’re pissed. Let’s go around out back.”

I shudder, imagining them both inside like chained guard dogs, waiting to shred me.

We silently walk around the garden, past the stone table where I’ve been writing, and out to the water’s edge. It’s a crystal-clear morning, with the waves lapping gently at the shore. We settle into the powdery white sand, and I take a deep breath, letting it all come out.

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