‘Nothing.’ Somehow everything had changed between them, and not for the better. Chase wasn’t as light and laughing as he’d used to be, as she needed him to be. He was tense and touchy, even if he was trying to act like he wasn’t. And so was she.
‘Fine. I’ll take a look.’ She reached for the bags and caught Chase’s bemused look. ‘Thank you,’ she added, belatedly and ungraciously.
Chase’s mouth quirked in a smile that seemed all too sad. ‘No problem,’ he said quietly, and she retreated to the bedroom.
Half an hour later she was on Chase’s boat, wearing a shift dress of cinnamon-coloured silk as they cruised towards Anguilla.
Chase had shed his blazer and tie and rolled the sleeves up of his crisp white shirt to navigate the boat. He looked amazing.
They hadn’t said much since the exchange in the kitchen, and the silence was making Millie twitchy. She wanted that fun, teasing banter back, the ease she’d felt in Chase’s presence. She’d told him he’d made her uncomfortable, but it was nothing like this.
Moodily she stared out at the sea. The sun was already slipping towards the horizon. A third sunset. Only four more to go and their week would be over. And by mutual agreement, they would never see each other again.
Chase left the tiller to come and sit next to her, the wind ruffling his hair as he squinted into the dying sun. He didn’t ask her what she was thinking, didn’t say anything, and Millie knew he didn’t want to know. He’d only pushed her when he thought she’d push back, not give in. It was the anticipation that had been fun for him, the moment before.
Not the moment after.
‘So how come you have a villa on St Julian’s if you didn’t want to have anything to do with the Bryant business?’ she asked when the silence had stretched on long enough to make her want to fidget.
Chase kept his gaze on the darkening sea. ‘My grandfather bequeathed the island to my brothers and me, and my father couldn’t do anything about it. As soon as I’d established myself I had the villa built. I hardly ever use it, actually, but it was a way to thumb my nose at my father—even if he was dead.’
‘It must have hurt, to have him disinherit you,’ Millie said quietly.
Chase shrugged. ‘It didn’t feel good.’
‘What about your mother?’
‘She died when I was twelve. Breast cancer.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Another shrug. Clearly he didn’t like talking about any of this, but at least he was giving answers. And Millie knew she wanted to know.
‘And your brothers? Do you get along well with them?’
He sighed, raked a hand through his hair. ‘More or less. Aaron is nice enough, but he views life as a game of Monopoly where he has all the money. Luke is my middle brother, and he’s always been trying to prove himself. Total workaholic.’
‘And where do you fit in?’
‘Black sheep, basically, who only semi-made-good.’
‘Are they married?’
‘Nope, none of us seem eager to take the plunge.’ He spoke evenly, almost lightly, but she still heard the warning. Oh, fabulous. So after this afternoon he thought she was going to go all doe-eyed on him, start dreaming of happily-ever-afters. She’d only done that for a second.
‘And you get along?’
‘More or less.’
It didn’t sound like the best family situation. She was blessed to have parents and a sister who loved and supported her, but even they hadn’t been able to break down her walls or keep her from hiding behind the rubble.
Only Chase had done that.
She let out a restless sigh, knowing she needed to stop thinking this way, wanting something from Chase he couldn’t give. Ironic, really, that she’d assumed he was shallow, then believed he wasn’t, only to discover he really was. And, while she’d wanted shallow before, she didn’t want it now.
‘And what about you? You have family around?’ Chase asked.
‘Parents and a sister.’
‘Are you close with them?’
‘Yes.’ She paused, because even though she was close she hadn’t told them as much about her marriage as she had Chase.
‘Not that close, huh?’ Chase said, sounding cynical, and Millie shook her head. She couldn’t bear for him to think that her family was like his, or that her life had been all sadness.
‘No, actually, we are. My sister Zoe is fantastic. She stops by almost every week with my favourite snack, makes sure I’m not working too hard.’
‘Your favourite snack?’
‘Nachos with fake cheese.’
He let a short laugh. ‘That is so low-brow. I was expecting dark chocolate or some exotic sorbet.’
‘I don’t play to type that much,’ she said lightly, and for a moment everything was at it had been, the lightness, the fun. Then something shuttered in Chase’s eyes and he turned away to gaze at the sea.
‘We’re almost there.’ He rose and went to trim the sail as the lights of Anguilla loomed closer, shimmering on the surface of the tranquil sun-washed sea. They didn’t speak as he moored the boat and then helped her onto the dock.
The restaurant was right on the sand, the terracotta-tile and white-stucco building one of a jumble along the beach. It felt surprisingly refreshing to be out of the rarefied atmosphere of St Julian’s, to see people who weren’t just wealthy guests. A rail-thin cat perched along the wall that lined the beach, and a few children played with a ball and stick in the dusky light.
Millie slowed her steps as she watched the children. One of the girls had a mop of dark curls. She looked to be about five years old, a little older than Charlotte would have been.
‘Millie?’ Chase reached for her hand and she realised she’d been just standing there, staring. Children had been invisible to her for two years; it was as if her brain knew she couldn’t handle it and just blanked them out. She didn’t see them in her building, in the street, in the park. It helped that her life was so work-focused; there weren’t many children on Wall Street.
Yet she saw them now, saw them in all their round-cheeked innocence, and felt her raw and wounded heart give a death-defying squeeze.
‘Millie,’ Chase said again quietly and slowly she turned away from the raggedy little group. She wanted to rail at him, to beat her fists against his chest.
See? See what you did to me? I was fine before, I was surviving, and now you’ve opened up this need and hope in me and you don’t even want it any more.
Swallowing, she lifted her chin and followed Chase into the restaurant. The place was a mix of funky Caribbean decor and fresh, well-prepared food. The waiter greeted Chase by name and ushered them to the best table in the restaurant, in a semi-secluded alcove.
‘What’s this? A huge ashtray?’ Millie gestured to the rectangular box of sand in the middle of the table.
‘Nope, just a little sand box to play with while we wait for our food.’ He took a little spade lying next to the box and handed it to her with a glinting smile. ‘Dig in.’
‘Clearly meant for guests with short attention spans.’ She scooped a bit of sand with the miniature spade and dumped it out again. ‘So do you like being an architect?’
‘All these questions.’
She glanced up sharply. ‘It’s called conversation, generally.’ She heard an edge to her voice, knew he heard it too. So