The dedication page read, To Davey, when you’re done visiting the Dreamworld, don’t forget to come home to us.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall madly in love with Hugo. She already liked him. A lot. Too much. And it seemed he liked her too. Why even think about it? She’d be leaving in a couple of days, as soon as the game was over, and probably never see him again.
But if she won the book for Christopher, that would make it all okay. Focus on the game, she told herself. This isn’t about you. It’s about Christopher.
She showered, toweled off, and dug jeans and a light blue sweater out of her suitcase. Hugo rapped lightly on the bathroom door.
“You can come in,” she said. “I’m decent.”
“Shame,” he said, opening the door. He looked so handsome in the doorway in his jeans and T-shirt with dead sexy bedhead. Her heart skipped. She didn’t know hearts actually did that in real life.
“Jack called. He says he’d like to see you. Please. The ‘please’ is from him, not me. But also, please. That one was from me.”
“Did he sound mad?”
“If by mad you mean angry, no. He always sounds a little insane, if you ask me.”
She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Do I have to?”
“Go on,” he finally said. “You know how it works. ‘The only wishes ever granted are the wishes of brave children who keep on wishing even when it seems no one is listening because someone always is’—”
“Right, right.”
“Hey, Hart Attack,” he said with a smile. “Don’t be afraid.”
Scared but determined, Lucy returned to Jack’s house. It was eerily quiet inside, like she was all alone. Then she heard the soft murmur of voices coming from the library. After yesterday, Lucy thought Jack might be angry at her for how she’d overreacted. Maybe he was planning to send her home like he had Dustin. She’d been so awful to him last night.
Still…she didn’t think she’d been wrong. Overwrought, angry, unkind? Yes. But not wrong. They were real people, and they didn’t deserve to have their lives, and their hearts, played with like toys.
Jack was waiting for her in the living room. The doors to the library were closed.
“Ah, Lucy,” Jack said with a smile. “How are you?”
Jack had this way of saying How are you? like the answer mattered, like the answer was the only thing that mattered.
“Better,” she said. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for getting so upset last night. I was a little—”
“Think nothing of it. Please. This has been a hard week for you. And I’m afraid it might get a little harder before it’s over.”
“Harder?” She glanced at the doors to the library again. Closed. As if someone was in there, hidden away. Someone Jack didn’t want her to see just yet.
Someone she was afraid of.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a friend of mine here. Someone who would like to speak to you, and I think…has a right to speak to you.”
“A friend?” Lucy looked at him. Then she knew who was behind those doors.
It was Sean. Of course it was. The man whose baby she’d wanted to have but lost. He and Jack were with the same agency. It wasn’t difficult to draw a line between the two men.
Jack had promised to make them face their fears. But inviting her ex-boyfriend to the island? She couldn’t believe he would do this to her, but maybe he understood something she didn’t. All she had to do was talk to him, tell him what had happened after she left him. Then it would be over.
This was the game. Lucy had to play it to win.
She opened the door to the library.
A woman was seated on the sofa.
A woman? Not Sean?
When she saw Lucy, the woman stood up. At first Lucy didn’t recognize her. Then the woman smiled a million-watt smile. Bright white perfect teeth. Just like in her picture on the real estate agency web page.
“Angie?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The woman raised her hand in a little wave.
“Hi, Lucy. Long time no see.”
A heavy silence descended onto the library like a fog. Lucy froze, unsure what to say, what to do, what to feel. At once, she knew. She turned and left without so much as a look back.
“Lucy?” Jack called after her as she brushed past him. “Lucy!”
She reached the stairs. Her gut told her to get away, get to her room, shut the door, and lock it.
She was halfway up the stairs when Jack caught up with her.
“Please, Lucy, I’m an old man. Don’t make me run.”
His hand clutched the railing. His eyes were wide and imploring.
“Why, Jack?” she hissed. What else could she ask? Why would he do this to her?
“Five minutes,” he said. “All I ask. Five minutes to explain. Please?”
Still in shock, Lucy didn’t know how to answer. Her sister was downstairs in the library, the last person on the planet she wanted to see—she would have served Sean Parrish wine from a golden goblet before sitting down for a cozy chat with her sister.
“You know how much she hurt me. You know.” Lucy’s eyes were filled with tears, but she refused to blink, refused to shed them. She’d shed enough tears in her life over her sister.
Jack put his hand over his heart and said, “My kingdom for five minutes. Please?”
Something in his voice, his eyes, gave her pause, made her think her pain was causing him pain. Even in her anger, her shock, her sadness, she remembered that his books had gotten her through the worst years of her life. She might not owe him much, but she could give him five minutes.
“Five minutes,” she said.
“Thank you, dear girl. My office?”
On leaden feet, she walked down the hall to his writing factory. She felt like a kid again, scared and unsure. Jack opened the door for her and let her in. He pointed to the old sofa, the same one she’d sat on at thirteen, but she shook her head.
“I’ll stand,” she said.
He didn’t argue, just sat behind his desk.
“It’s fun, isn’t it?” he said. “Reading all about people facing their fears. Not so much fun to do it yourself.”
“I’m not afraid of Angie. I hate her. There’s a difference.”
“I know fear when I see it,” he said. “Trust me. I see it in the mirror every morning.”
Lucy glared at him. “What are you afraid of? You’re rich. You can buy anything you need or want.”
“I can’t buy time. No one in the world can buy time. All those wasted years of my life…I can’t buy them back. And if there was one thing I would buy if I could, it would be the time I wasted running from what I was afraid of instead of facing it.”
His voice trembled with regret. Lucy sank slowly down onto the sofa.
“What do you regret?” she asked. He’d achieved so much—fame, wealth, the love and adoration of millions…
He sat back in his chair and gave a little whistle. Thurl Ravenscroft flew over from his perch and landed on Jack’s wrist. He stroked the bird’s graceful neck.
“I wanted to be a father,” he said. He pointed at her. “Bet you didn’t know that about me.”