I don’t even know why I’m thinking about Ted’s face at all. I mean, sure, he’s superhot now, and he’s really lovely, and he isn’t fifty as I’d first assumed, but that shouldn’t make a difference. He’s still too old for me, still technically married, his life sounds immensely complicated, and he doesn’t even like Phil Collins. Plus, he made it pretty clear last night that he still loves his wife and he’s not in the market for anything like that. Then I have to stop thinking about not thinking about Ted, because it’s reminding me of the letter from Belinda sitting guiltily in my handbag. Why am I even having to rationalize this to myself? It’s ridiculous; I’m on a date with Jasper, perfect Jasper who ticks all the boxes.
Jasper pulls two sun loungers out onto the cabin deck. Then on a table between us lays out all the food he’s brought.
“So, do you bring all your dates out here?” I ask.
“Hardly,” Jasper says, wrinkling his nose. “I rarely meet anyone I want to meet for a drink, let alone bring to my favorite place in the whole world.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky one,” I say, feeling as though I’m reciting lines from some flirtatious play.
“A lot of people our age move away from the island,” Jasper says. “Of the girls who are left, I went to school with most of them, and the rest I’m related to. Small pond.”
“And you’re a big fish, are you?” I say, pushing my tongue into my cheek.
Jasper reaches out to take my hand in his.
“Well, I’m not a small fish,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively, and I can’t help but laugh. “Right, Laura, are you going to confess what this real cabin fantasy of yours is, or am I going to have to wrestle it out of you?”
4 November 1991
Alex,
It is over then, is it? Done with. Finished. Everything you said to me this summer, forgotten? I loved you with every particle of my soul, Al, as you did me, and now you try to dismiss it as a short-term fling? Where is the man I loved? He would not be so cavalier with another’s heart. Enjoy the Greek islands; I hope your boat sinks.
I am keeping the baby.
Annie
PS I enclose your half of the coin. The other half is mine, I found it and I paid for it. You wouldn’t have known this piece still existed if it wasn’t for me. It is now as much a part of my family history as it is yours, so I am keeping it for our child. Nice to know you care more about holding on to a piece of metal than a living, breathing human.
Chapter 21
I end up telling Jasper about the Scrabble game and the wood chopping. He’s flirting with me, the sun is shining, and the rosé tastes delicious. Somehow sharing my childish fantasy feels part of the script for this ideal date we’re on. Jasper claps his hands together, as though accepting the challenge to make my fantasy a reality. There is only pre-chopped wood for the cabin’s log burner and no ax, so he ends up trying to hack at pieces of kindling with a bread knife, all whilst shirtless and trying to flex his abs in my direction. His performance makes me cry with laughter, though it is the least erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Right, Scrabble. Unusual, but I like a girl with highbrow sexual interests. I think we have a set somewhere,” he says.
With his shirt still unbuttoned, Jasper searches the depths of a dusty games chest, and manages to find an old travel Scrabble at the bottom. He sets up the board on the driftwood coffee table.
I don’t know where I got the idea that playing board games was sexy in any way. In my fantasy, I’d lay down some brilliant word like “quixotic” or “oxyphenbutazone,” and the man I’m with would instantly fall in love with my brain as well as my body. In reality, I keep picking out Ps and can’t put down anything more impressive than “pop,” “pip,” or “pap” （which Jasper says is slang, so I can’t even have）。 After the fourth time Jasper asks, “Is this turning you on yet?” I upend the board in faux petulance. He catches my gaze with his, his eyes growing wide, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk, and then he leans in toward me.
“Is this OK?” he says in a low whisper, our faces inches apart.
I nod.
Jasper presses his lips to mine, one hand reaching up to cup my face. His lips are warm and soft; it’s a good kiss, the right balance of assertive but respectful. Would I have movie sex with Jasper, I wonder? There’s something slightly schoolboyish about him: his public-school brand of humor, the brown deck shoes—I’m not sure how wild a man who wears deck shoes would ever be in bed. All of these thoughts run through my mind during our kiss. I cannot believe how well this is all going. He’s making me laugh, he’s got a great body （that wasn’t on my list, but it doesn’t hurt）， he’s got impeccable taste in clothes, wine, and patés. That salmon and dill one was delicious; I’m definitely going to look that up when I get home.