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meet us. Then we’ll return here to change clothes. After they film Bram in the kitchen, we’ll get into place for dinner. Piece of cake, he assures us. But for now, the cast should go to our rooms and rest. He wants us bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for our big moment.

In our bedroom, I’m too wound up to rest. And it’s not just the “big moment.” Although I saw Bram after lunch, long enough to tell him I was heading up for a nap, we haven’t had a chance to talk. I can’t pretend that Jocasta staying here—in our house—doesn’t bother me. He’s got a good excuse for forgetting to tell me, granted, but that’s not what troubles me. It’s Jocasta’s too-obvious pleasure that I didn’t know. It feels underhanded on Bram’s part, somehow, as if he sneaked her in and figured I wouldn’t notice. I’d love to talk to Nellie Bee, who’d understand my turmoil, but I dare not. I can’t risk her confronting Bram. Not today.

Nellie Bee! I’d forgotten that after the beach walk, she and Charlie are coming here to change, and I’d planned on putting them in the guest room. She’ll find out about Jocasta then, and all hell’s liable to break loose. Unless . . . It hits me that I have no choice. Nellie Bee and Charlie will have to use my office, and I’ll pretend it was my idea to put Jocasta in the guest room. Nellie Bee won’t be happy with me, but I’ll explain later. Just getting through this day is the only thing now.

There’s a daybed in my office where Nellie Bee and Charlie can lay out their clothes, so I start downstairs to clear it off. Mainly I pile papers on it. Just like earlier, I’ve reached the stairs when I hear sounds from the guest room. But this time, it’s voices I hear. And one of them is Bram’s.

Standing outside the guest room door, I hesitate, wondering what to say to him. I heard you and want to know what the hell you’re doing in there? I can only imagine how Jocasta would love that. But nothing could be going on, could it, with me right down the hall? Or does Bram think because I’m resting, with the shades pulled and the fan going, it’d be the perfect chance to sneak into her room? It’s so preposterous that I shake it off and raise my hand to knock. And that’s when I hear him. “Don’t worry,” he says in the melodious voice that I love so much, the one that weakens my knees. “She doesn’t know I’m here. She’s napping.”

I freeze, stunned, before lowering my clenched hand. I can hear Jocasta’s soft murmurs but not what she says—except for the one word that might as well be a shout: “Bram.” It’s spoken with so much longing that I want to run back to the safety of my room. But I’m unable to move—especially after I hear Bram’s low chuckle, a sound that tears me apart. Jocasta’s soft, seductive laugh in response is a further stab to my heart. Whatever he says to her next is so low and muffled I can’t tell what it is, which is a blessing. How could I bear to hear my husband saying the sweet words of love he’d whispered to me only a few nights ago, before she came here and changed everything? Stifling a sob, I turn away. But I don’t go back down the hall to the room I share with Bram. Instead I continue down the stairs to my office. My movements are robotic. Unblinking, I clear papers from the daybed and file them methodically away.

The obsessive-compulsive nature that drives me crazy at times serves me well now, carrying me through the rest of the afternoon. Finished in my office, I go back upstairs to dress for the beach walk. Wear something fun, Steve’d said, and I pull on white shorts and a bright aqua tee with a dolphin on it. On the bed I lay out Bram’s choice, khaki shorts and denim shirt. I’m tying my hair back when he comes in, careful to close the door quietly. “Oh!” he says with a start, seeing me at the dresser. “I thought you were asleep.”

You sure did, I think, but say nothing. I’m not sure I can without bursting into tears. But I won’t cry. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain—Jocasta or Bram, either one. Seeing his clothes on the bed, Bram says, “Thanks, sweetheart,” before coming over to give me a kiss on the cheek. I flinch but he doesn’t notice. Her perfume is faint on the collar of his shirt, and when he pulls it over his head, I clear my throat and say, “You might want to shower.”

Frowning, he tosses his shirt aside. “Not till after the beach. But don’t worry, I’ll be quick because I gotta get to the kitchen. Then you’ll have plenty of time to primp.”

I can’t get to the door without walking past him, and he takes my arm to smile down at me. “Relax, baby. It’ll be over before you know it. I promise.”

“Yeah,” I say as I pull away and walk out the door. That’s what I’m afraid of.

The filming of the beach walk goes so smoothly that everyone’s jubilant afterward. The crew applauds us, and Steve swears that we’re a bunch of pros. I went through the motions, smiling and chatting just like Steve’d told us to do. They’re using a voice-over for this part, so it didn’t matter what we said. With the camera crew walking backwards several steps in front of us, Bram and I lead off, hands clasped. If he noticed my trembling hands, my halting steps, he gave no sign. Michael and Missy were behind us, with Adeline in her father’s arms. Behind them came Nellie Bee, Charlie, and Jocasta. Nellie Bee had refused to stand beside Jocasta and made Charlie walk between them.

Holding his

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