by Holly Rayner
He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
He couldn’t stay in the Bahamas forever. He liked it here, of course, but the ranch was his home. It was the place he and his father had lived and worked together for so many years. Clay couldn’t give that up.
“Clay?” Gwen called. “Are you all right in there? Do you want me to pause the movie?”
“I’m fine,” he said, almost automatically, even though he had never been further from fine in his life. “Keep going. I’ll be right out.”
He had to pull himself together before he went back out there. The last thing he wanted was for Gwen to find out what had happened. It was humiliating. And he didn’t want her to walk away from tonight with a memory of him humiliating himself. He wanted her to remember this holiday the same way he wanted to remember it himself—as romantic and adventurous and a break from the worries of real life.
He stood and paced back and forth a few times, trying to calm himself down. A part of him wished he hadn’t told her already that he wanted her to stay the night. He knew he could still change his mind, but that would look strange. Gwen would figure out that something had happened. Knowing her, she would insist on finding out what it was.
No. The best thing to do was to simply try to play it cool. In the morning, he would go to the airport and try to reschedule his flight home. If he was lucky, he would be able to get on an earlier plane than the one he had planned on taking. And then he could get down to business straightening out this mess.
I’m sure it will all look better once I’m back in Texas. I’ll be able to speak to the realtor directly. I’ll be able to sit down with Dave and figure out a plan.
Hell, if Dave had proven anything, it was that he couldn’t be trusted. For all Clay knew, he was completely wrong in his assessment of the situation.
Maybe we’re not in any legal trouble at all.
But then again, maybe they were.
He couldn’t be sure, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
In the living room, he heard the movie stop. Gwen got to her feet.
She’s coming in here.
No, she wasn’t. She walked past the bedroom door. A moment later, Clay heard the door to the bathroom close.
Suddenly something occurred to him, stopping his racing thoughts in their tracks.
She’s a cop.
She was a police officer, and he was guilty of a crime.
His heart raced. What did it mean? Was her presence here a danger to him?
No. I never told her my last name. At least, I don’t think I did.
He thought quickly over all their interactions. He had introduced himself by his first name only, he was almost certain. And when they had gone to the restaurant together, he had given his room number, not his name.
No, she only knew that his name was Clay and that he lived in the Panhandle. That wasn’t much to go on. Clay was sure police officers had all kinds of tools that weren’t accessible to ordinary citizens when it came to finding people. But without his last name, there really wasn’t much she could do.
Besides, she was an officer in Louisiana. His crime had been committed in Texas. She wouldn’t have anything to do with any charges that might be made against him. He was perfectly safe.
Still, he wanted to be sure. He looked around the room. Did anything in here have his name on it? His wallet was on the bedside table, and it had his driver’s license and his credit cards in it—but surely she wouldn’t look in his wallet?
He picked it up, put it in the pocket of his jeans, then folded them and put them on a high shelf in the closet. Better safe than sorry.
He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. Gwen was washing her hands. He needed to get back out into the living room before this started to look weird.
He hurried out, closing the bedroom door behind him. Maybe he could convince her to sleep on the couch tonight, he thought wildly. It seemed safer, somehow, to keep her out here.
The bathroom door opened. She was coming out, heading toward him.
He turned toward the table full of food they’d gotten from room service, on the pretense of getting himself a piece of bread.
And froze.
There was a room service receipt. It was an itemized list of everything Clay had ordered.
And there, at the very bottom, was his name and signature.
He didn’t have time to think of a more elegant solution. Blocking her view with his back, he ripped the receipt in half and shoved the bottom half into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Gwen asked.
He turned back to her, bread in hand. “Just grabbing something to eat,” he said, smiling. “I wonder whether those takeout boxes have been delivered yet.”
She looked as if she wanted to say something, but he wasn’t about to give her the chance. He hurried past her and over to the door, pulling it open to reveal a stack of leftover containers on the carpet.
He brought them inside. “This ought to do,” he said.
“You need a hand?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Go back to the movie. I’ll be over in a minute.”
Gwen nodded and returned to the couch.
Heart racing, Clay began to box up their food, hoping his name was nowhere else to be found in the room.
Chapter 7
Gwen
Gwen awoke the next morning to a feeling of overwhelming sadness. Today was the day she would have to leave her beautiful island paradise behind and go home to New Orleans.
Of course, it wouldn’t be all bad. She still had a few more days off once she got home before she would have to return to work. She would be able to spend the time relaxing and catching up on her reading, treating herself to the kinds of things she never had time for when she was on the job. She had been looking forward to it, even as she’d spent time on Green Turtle Cay.
Still, she would miss the heat and the white sandy beaches. She would miss days spent listening to the waves roll in and drinking drinks at Jahni’s tiki bar. She would miss the fresh seafood at every meal and the warm nights out on her patio.
But most of all, though it was difficult to admit even to herself, she would miss Clay.
She had never expected to meet someone on her vacation. And even when she had begun to spend time with Clay, she had very sternly reminded herself that nothing could come of their friendship. It was a temporary thing. As soon as they went their separate ways, it would be over.
She glanced over at him. He was standing in front of his dresser, already packing his things.
“I thought your flight wasn’t until tomorrow,” she said.
He turned. “Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were awake. I’m sorry if I wasn’t quiet enough.”
“You’re not thinking of sneaking out on me, I hope,” she said, smiling.
He returned her smile, but there was something wrong with it. He looked distracted.
Come to think of it, he had looked distracted last night, too, while they had been finishing their movie.
And now…was he packing early?
“I figured I’d go ahead and get back home,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “You were planning to stay for one more night, right? I did hear you say that?”
“You did,” he said cautiously.
“So why would you want to leave early?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’ll be lonely around here without you, and I figured I’d be just as happy to head home. I think I’ll probably be able to get an earlier flight.”
He wasn’t making eye contact with her when he spoke. Gwen had been a police officer long enough to know what that meant.
But what business was it of hers, really, if he didn’t want to tell her the whole truth? He had every right to go home whenever he wanted to. He didn’t owe her an explanation.
“So you’re going to the airport now?” she asked.
He nodded. “As soon
as I get my things packed up. I was going to wake you up pretty soon, but I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked peaceful.”
She felt a little guilty. “You could have gotten me up,” she said. “I don’t want to be in your way if you’re trying to get your things together to leave.”
“You’re not in my way.” But he was lifting a suitcase, putting it on the bed beside her. He threw it open and the top landed across her knees.
She got out of bed and began to move around the room, gathering her own things. “I’ll be out of your hair in just a minute,” she said.
Even though she knew it wasn’t really a rejection, she couldn’t help feeling hurried on her way. It felt like she was an inconvenience to him. The pleasant atmosphere that had been created between them last night was gone.
“Your flight isn’t until tonight, right?” he said. “Do you want to take some of the room service food back to your room with you?”
She had envisioned that they would open the boxes from last night and have breakfast together, perhaps while still in bed.
“I guess,” she said.
He stopped what he was doing for a moment, which felt like a small miracle. “Is everything all right?”
“You’re running off like a thief in the night,” she said. “It does feel a little weird to me. Even if you are leaving because I’m leaving, what’s the big hurry? I’m not heading out for hours yet.”
“It will probably take me a while to get a flight,” he said. “I think I’ll be able to get one, but I’ll have to hang around the airport for several hours to do it.”
“And that’s really how you want to spend the last day of your vacation?” she asked. “Hanging around at the airport?”
He sighed. “I just want to get home,” he said. “I guess I’m homesick. You can understand that, right?”
Immediately, Gwen felt guilty. Clay had just lost his father. She was used to feeling a little lonely around Christmastime, but for him it was the first year that had been like this. Of course he was having trouble coping. Of course the thought of her leaving today had triggered his feelings of homesickness.
She shouldn’t have pressed him so hard for an explanation.
Wanting to make it up to him, she went to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked. “I’m pretty good at folding shirts, if you’d like a hand.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” he said. “The best thing you could do for me would be to take some of that food, so I’ll know somebody’s enjoying it.”
“I can do that,” she agreed. “And really, Clay, thank you for everything. This has been the best couple of days I could have imagined. I never dreamed, when I came on this trip, that I would end up having such a memorable time. I’m so glad I met you.”
This time, his smile was genuine, if a little sad. “I’m glad I met you too,” he said. “I’m sorry we have to say goodbye.”
“Maybe…maybe we don’t?” She was hesitant to broach the subject, but she knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t at least ask.
Clay raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked.
She shrugged. “There are phones. Computers. Video chat is a thing. And we don’t live that far apart, all things considered. Maybe we could stay in touch after we go home. I know I’d like to hear from you again.”
Clay looked away from her.
“I mean…only if you want to,” she added. Now she did feel a little rejected.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Clay said.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s just…I think maybe this is better kept as a memory,” he said. “This little slice of time that you and I were able to spend together, away from everyday life. If we try to prolong it, to bring it home with us, it will never be quite as special as it was here. It’ll lose its magic.”
She frowned. “Do you really think so?”
It didn’t seem that way at all to her. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why she had ever been in favor of leaving her relationship with Clay on the island. He understood her in a way nobody had in a very long time. Of course she wanted to keep in touch with him.
“When I think of you,” Clay said, “I want to remember you the way you were here. I want to remember that dress you wore to the Flying Fish on Christmas Eve. I want to remember how you held my hand when we were parasailing, and how happy you looked on your surfboard. I want to remember what you felt like in my arms at night.”
“You can remember all those things while still keeping in contact with me,” she protested.
“I want you to remember me this way too,” he said. “I don’t want your thoughts about me to be…contaminated by anything from my real life.”
His real life must seem like such a dismal place to him, she realized. He must be thinking of it as a place of sadness and pain because of the loss of his father. That was what this was. He didn’t want to mingle that pain with the pleasant memories he had formed here on the beach.
She could understand it, but still, she couldn’t bear to lose him entirely.
“Could I at least connect with you on social media?” she asked him. “If we can’t remain close friends, I at least want to keep a reminder of you in my life. I want to be able to check in from time to time and see how you’re doing.” She opened the social media app on her phone and held it out to him. “Go ahead,” she said. “Add yourself.”
But he took a step back and shook his head. “It’s not a good idea, Gwen,” he said quietly. “I wish I could.”
“I don’t understand. Why can’t you?”
He put his arms out, almost pleading. “Please. Let’s just let this be what it is. I’ve had a wonderful time. Really.”
She didn’t understand. What was so wrong with staying in touch on social media? It wouldn’t even require them to talk to one another.
But apparently, it was too much to ask.
She went into the kitchen and began to examine the boxes of food in the fridge. She picked out a few that she thought she might eat from. Then she went over to the table that had been set up for them last night to grab a few of the unused napkins. If Clay really was going to take off early, Gwen was going to spend the afternoon in her own room in front of the TV with a big pile of seafood.
She frowned as she reached across the table for the napkins.
There was a torn piece of paper sitting beside the plates.
She picked it up and examined it as if she were back at work and this paper was evidence in a case she was trying to solve. It didn’t make sense. She knew that immediately, instinctively, even though it took a few seconds for logic and reason to catch up.
This was the receipt from dinner last night.
She could see all of the food they’d ordered listed out, line by line, with the prices beside it.
But the bottom, where the signature line would have been—that had been torn away. Someone had decided to rip it off.
It could only have been Clay, of course. He was the only other person who had been in the room, apart from the maid who had brought the food. But the maid would have had no reason to tear the receipt. If she’d needed a copy of Clay’s signature, she would have gotten it on her own copy of the receipt. She wouldn’t have torn up this one.
So Clay must have done it.
And, she realized suddenly, she knew when he had done it. She had seen him doing something here at the table last night. She had known the expression on his face was that of someone keeping a guilty secret. How often had she seen that expression at work? Every day.
But why?
What would make Clay tear a receipt in half? And whatever the reason was, why would he feel guilty about something so inconsequential?
And then the truth hit her.
He had done it because of her.
He had realized that his last name was on that piece of paper, and he had torn it to hide it. To hide his name from her.
>
Whatever his reticence to connect with her online was about, then, it went beyond simply wanting to leave their time together as a nice memory. This, whatever it was, was why he hadn’t shared his social media accounts.
He doesn’t want me to know who he is.
Had she ever heard his last name? She thought back to their introduction.
No, he hadn’t given it.
She had no idea what it was.
It wasn’t until now that she realized he had been withholding it on purpose.
The bedroom door swung open and Gwen allowed the receipt to fall from her hand. Whatever was going on here, she didn’t want Clay to know that she had figured it out.
“Oh,” he said. “Good. You took some food.”
“Yeah,” she said. Suddenly, she felt awkward around him, and she found that she wanted nothing more than to get back to her own room and begin pondering this mystery. “I think I’ll head out so that you can finish packing. Maybe I’ll have time to rent another movie before it’s time for me to go to the airport.”
He nodded. “All right,” he said. “It was really great getting to know you, Gwen.”
It was funny, but she wasn’t sure she could believe him now. It made her sad. Had everything between the two of them been a lie? Had any of it been real?
She wanted to go to him, to embrace him one last time. But if she did that, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to bring herself to let go. And if he really was trying to keep his identity a secret from her, maybe she shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing how reluctant she was to part ways.
She gathered her things. “Have a safe journey home,” she told him and made her way out into the hall without looking back.
It wasn’t until she had reached her own room that she allowed herself to relax even slightly. She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what had just happened.
Who was Clay? And why was he so determined to keep his identity a secret?
Was it possible he was someone famous? She tried to think of any famous Clays she might have heard of. A Broadway actor came to mind, but he looked nothing like her Clay. She couldn’t think of any others. If he was famous, she didn’t think she had ever heard of him.