“Ali,” she calls as she knocks on the bedroom door. “Are you up?”
An image of Ali lying facedown on her bed, unconscious, suddenly floats into her mind. If she was no longer around, then Rachel wouldn’t have to suspect Jack of having an affair. But even more than that now, she wouldn’t have to fear that her innermost secret is about to be exposed.
She knocks again. “Ali?”
When there’s no sound or movement, Rachel quietly opens the door. “Wow!” she says out loud as she’s met with a wall of glass holding back the water of the pool. The sunlight is penetrating the surface, sending shafts of light underwater. It’s spectacular, though Rachel can’t help but feel grateful that she didn’t have this vantage point when Will and Ali were in the pool last night.
“Are you in here?” she asks, tiptoeing toward the bathroom.
She steps over a pair of trainers and, as she stops stock-still, staring at them, her heart crashes into a brick wall. She gasps, remembering Ali’s insistence that she’d join Jack for a run. She’d pitied her desperate attempt to be with him, so sure that it was nothing but an unrequited infatuation. But everything that has happened since points to it being so much more. Now she pities herself for being so naive. They were never going for a run, were they? Though, she’d have expected Ali to at least pretend they were.
Rachel falls onto the bed, trying desperately hard not to imagine what the pair of them might be doing. How could they do it to her? How could they do it to Will, who she feels even more sorry for? He thinks Ali’s the love of his life, yet she’s sneaking around with his own brother on their wedding day. Rachel doesn’t want to admit it, but whatever it is she’s doing to keep both brothers so enthralled, she must be doing it well.
Unable to help herself, she goes to the chest in the corner and slides the top drawer open. Inside is a kaleidoscope of lace knickers and matching bras in every color imaginable. They make Rachel itch just looking at them, but she doesn’t suppose they’re on long enough for Ali to feel the slightest irritation. Just comparing this to her own underwear drawer, where everything is off-white and 100 percent cotton, almost offers enough reason for Jack to be unfaithful.
No, she says, pulling herself up. Nothing justifies what he’s doing.
She’s about to close the drawer, when a glint of silver in the corner catches her eye. It’s partially covered by a barely there thong, which she flicks to one side with an outstretched finger.
There’s no doubt about what it is, but Rachel just stands there, hoping that if she stares at it hard enough, it will change into something else. She waits, but no part of the royal-blue bezel, or the second hand that’s ticking silently away, morphs into anything other than the watch she bought Jack for their ten-year anniversary.
She picks it up, feeling the weight of it in her hand. It could be an identical one, she supposes—perhaps Ali’s planning on giving it to Will as a wedding present. But as she slowly turns it over, the engraving on the back is undeniable.
Darling Jack, I’ll love you forever, Rachel
Stumbling out of the room, Rachel desperately tries to chase away the video that’s playing in her mind’s eye. She pictures Ali and Jack lying in each other’s arms, spent from a marathon sex session, congratulating themselves on how clever they’re being and how easy it is to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes.
But they’re making silly mistakes and their complacency is about to be their undoing.
She wonders if they even care. Maybe they’re banking on being found out because neither of them are brave enough to stand up and be held accountable. Perhaps that’s the only way they can see this ridiculous charade of a wedding being called off. Is Jack begging Ali not to go through with it? Promising that they can be together if she doesn’t? Or have they decided that her getting married to Will is the perfect cover story for them to be able to continue their illicit affair?
Rachel’s breath catches in her throat as she imagines Ali telling Jack about what she saw and heard last night. If they’d ever felt guilt-ridden about what they were doing, unable to sleep for fear their consciences may strangle them in the night, she’d handed them the perfect antidote on a plate.
“I think she saw and heard everything,” says Rachel as she rushes back to Noah on the terrace. “And she’s just waiting for the right time to say something.”
He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy peering through a pair of binoculars trained onto the beach.