Lost You Read online

  “I hate you,” he said, his smile crooked.

  Gerry came to the pool’s edge and hunkered down.

  “Hey, it’s getting late. You want to go get ready for dinner?”

  “I guess,” Charles said. He looked back to Libby. “You’ll join us, right?”

  She felt herself blush again. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

  “Sure you could.”

  She reached for Ethan’s hands, guided him back toward her. “Honestly, I wouldn’t impose dinner with a tired three-year-old on anyone.”

  “Nonsense. Please, I want to pick your brains.” He looked up at Gerry. “She’s a writer. Her debut comes out in the fall.”

  Gerry raised his eyebrows at Libby. “For real? Congratulations.”

  That heat in her cheeks again. She chided herself for it, even as she smiled.

  “No way he’s going to let you not eat with us,” Gerry said. “Save yourself some trouble, just say yes.”

  “Okay.” She hoisted Ethan up, and he wrapped his arms around her neck. “But I warn you, this boy’s going to get cranky.”

  But he didn’t.

  After Libby had showered and dressed them both, she let Ethan lead her down the hall to the elevator bank. Too late, she saw that one stood open, and had to dash after him. This time, she reached the elevator before he had a chance to press anything.

  “We talked about this, remember?” she said, taking his hand.

  He looked up at her, suppressing a grin.

  “It’s not funny,” she said, “so don’t you dare smile at me. It’s too dangerous. You’re not allowed into an elevator on your own. Got it?”

  “Got it,” he said, but the look on his face suggested otherwise.

  They met Charles and Gerry outside one of the resort’s two buffet restaurants, and as soon as they had a table, Charles ordered cocktails.

  “You’re a bad influence,” Libby said.

  “God, tell me about it,” Gerry said. “I just look forty, I’m actually twenty-three and have been weathered away by the lifestyle he inflicts upon me. I had a full head of hair when we met. And he wasn’t gray.”

  “I’m not gray,” Charles said.

  “Three words,” Gerry said, leaning in close to Libby. “Just. For. Men. H-35, medium brown. He thinks I don’t notice the Amazon orders.”

  Libby had become tipsy enough over dinner that she had to take care with her words, sharpening her consonants as she spoke. Ethan ate well, thankfully, not even complaining when she insisted he eat the green beans. He seemed enraptured at sharing a table with men, watching them talk, enjoying when they fussed over him.

  She knew the question had to arise at some point but was no less disappointed when it did.

  “So, where’s Ethan’s dad?” Charles asked.

  It was a friendly inquiry, no discernible judgment or challenge behind it. Even so, it scratched at her, like grit on her skin.

  “Mason,” she said. “His name’s Mason. He moved to Seattle when Ethan was six months old. We’re divorced now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Charles said. “Do you still see him? I mean, when he visits with Ethan.”

  “He visits Ethan twice a year. We don’t have any contact other than that.”

  “Really? Why did you split?” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “Was he violent?”

  “No, nothing like that. He just…couldn’t handle it.”

  Charles placed his hand on her forearm, warm and gentle. “Was the responsibility too much for him?”

  “Something like that. We went through a lot to have Ethan. It was difficult, emotionally, physically. I tell myself now, after all we had to deal with, it maybe took the will to be a parent out of him. Maybe he just didn’t want it as badly as I did.”

  She watched her son from across the table, giggling as Gerry pulled faces.

  “Listen,” she said, “can we not talk about it? I don’t want to be a downer.”

  Charles squeezed her arm. “Of course. Now tell me about your book.”

  By the time they’d finished dessert, Ethan had fallen asleep in his chair. Gerry offered to carry him up to her room for her, but she declined, insisting she could manage. They agreed to meet up again the following day, and Libby went to bed with a warm glow inside, perhaps encouraged by the two mojitos and two glasses of Rioja she had enjoyed with dinner.

  There were two beds in the room, but she slipped in beside Ethan, gathered him in close. She rested her head on the pillow beside his, felt his rib cage rise and fall against her chest, his soft snores like a cat purring. Somewhere outside, she heard a band playing, a maddeningly familiar song, but rearranged as easy lounge music. Along with the music, the hint of chatter and laughter.

  Before sleep took her, Libby kissed her son’s cheek and wondered how she could ever survive without him to tether her to this world.

  5

  THE MORNING AND AFTERNOON OF the second day were long and easy. After breakfast, Libby and Ethan put on their swimming things and took a walk through the grounds of the resort. They visited each of the seven pools, including the infinity pool that seemed to disappear into the sea. Libby knew it was an illusion, that there was a promenade between the pool’s edge and the Gulf, lined with restaurants and boutiques. They would stroll there another day, maybe go to the beach. Around noon, they found the toddler pool that was hidden in the center of the Lazy River. There, she could let Ethan splash in the knee-high water to his heart’s content while she relaxed with her Kindle on one of the nearby loungers. She only had to call out to him a few times, mostly for playing with water toys that weren’t his. A promise that she would buy him an inflatable of his own seemed to keep him happy. He spent a good thirty minutes playing with a little girl whose parents smiled at Libby from the other side of the shallow water.

  After lunch, she found Charles and Gerry sunbathing by the northern side of the Lazy River and asked if she could join them.

  “Please do,” Charles said.

  “Hey, Gerry,” Ethan called, waving.

  “Hey, buddy,” Gerry said, waving back. “You want to go swimming with me?”

  The two had gotten on like they were best friends since yesterday. It felt good and right that Ethan should spend time with a man. Even so, she hesitated.

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” Libby said. “You didn’t come here to look after my kid.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s fun.”

  “Please, Mommy,” Ethan said, turning his cutest face up to her.

  “Okay, but be good, all right?”

  Ethan pulled his hand from hers and ran to Gerry.

  “You all sunscreened up? You got your float vest? Your goggles? Okay, let’s go.”

  Gerry took him by the hand, his long strides making Ethan run to keep up. She watched them enter the water, Ethan jumping on Gerry’s back, Gerry laughing hard.

  “We wanted to adopt,” Charles said.

  Libby sat down on the free lounger next to him. “Didn’t work out?”

  “We got close,” Charles said, and she heard a sadness to his voice for the first time. “I mean, we were one signature away. Gerry was heartbroken. You think people are all on the same page these days, that the old barriers and hatreds won’t be there anymore. But they are.”

  “I’m sorry,” Libby said.

  “He’d be a great father,” Charles said.

  She looked back to the water where Gerry threw Ethan up into the air, catching him again as he splashed down. Their laughter, high and low, rippled through the warm air.

  “He would,” she said. “And so would you, I think.”

  Charles smiled and squeezed her hand. “God bless you.”

  Libby settled back onto her lounger, opened her Kindle, and began to read. A book that had been recommended to
her about a killer haunted by the ghosts of his victims. She was finding it hard to get through, the violence too strong, but she never liked to give up on a book once she’d started it. Without her noticing, the Kindle grew heavy in her hand, her eyelids heavier still. The sounds of the poolside, adults chatting, children laughing, distant music, all melded into a soothing murmur. Libby sank into a warm, calm sleep.

  She dreamed of her mother, how she persisted in calling her Elizabeth long after everyone else had stopped.

  Her mother said, Elizabeth, how long can this go on?

  They sat in her mother’s kitchen, all shafts of light and shadow, the smell of coffee.

  Forever, Libby said. It’ll go on forever.

  It can’t, her mother said. You know it.

  It has to, Libby said.

  But it can’t. You can’t keep it hidden forever.

  And she wanted to shout at her to shut up, to stop, but the words couldn’t get past her lips, her jaw locked. Her mother seized her wrists, held her in place, made her look even though she didn’t want to.

  Libby woke with a cry, swatting the warm hand away from her arm.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Charles said, his voice soft and kind. “You were dreaming.”

  She looked around. The sun had sunk below the tops of the palm trees, and shadow cooled her. Ethan sat with Gerry, his Spider-Man towel wrapped around him, eating an ice cream.

  “How…how long was I asleep?”

  “Maybe ninety minutes,” Charles said. “I probably should’ve woken you, but you looked so peaceful. Until all the moaning and groaning, that is.”

  She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I guess I needed it. Gerry, I’m sorry you had to be babysitter.”

  “Stop,” Gerry said. “I get to hang out with my buddy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Listen,” Charles said, “we’re going to get ready to go out. It’s date night, and Gerry’s taking me to this Cuban place that’s supposed to be fabulous. But after, say around eight, I insist you join us on the terrace for cocktails and dancing.”

  “Oh, no,” Libby said. “That’ll be too late for Ethan.”

  “He can stay up late one night, no? Even for an hour. Come on, what do you say?”

  “Say yes,” Gerry said. “He’ll be insufferable if you don’t.”

  She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Charles stood and packed the last of his and Gerry’s things away. “And I want you all gussied up, you hear? We’re going to turn heads tonight, right?”

  She blushed. “I’ll try.”

  “Try nothing.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You’re going to be a knockout.”

  Ethan came and sat in her lap, and they both waved goodbye. He curled up, his head against her chest as they watched Charles and Gerry leave.

  “You like Gerry?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Ethan said. “He’s funny.”

  Libby felt an aching crack of loneliness then, realized how much she missed the company of others. She had never been particularly sociable, enjoyed her own space, but that didn’t mean she wanted to live in isolation. The thought of dancing and laughing eased the ache.

  Thank God for Charles and Gerry, she thought.

  She kissed Ethan’s damp hair. “You think we got time for a swim before dinner?”

  He looked up at her, eyes beaming. “Yeah.”

  “Then let’s go,” she said.

  * * *

  —

  LIBBY AND ETHAN got to the terrace before Charles and Gerry. It opened out from the hotel’s main reception and bar area, an expanse of terra-cotta tiles that reached out over two levels to a stretch of lawn, then the infinity pool, then the sea. A small stage stood at the edge of the upper level, tables and chairs gathered around it. Libby found a table close by where she could watch the band and see couples dance.

  The band consisted of two men and two women, all of them Latino, playing popular songs arranged as easy bossa novas and sambas. She recognized a Beatles number even though it sounded far removed from the original.

  Ethan sat in her lap and gazed openmouthed at the woman who sang and played bass guitar. She winked at him and he grinned, turned, and buried his face in Libby’s bosom. He had eaten well, the day’s swimming having given him a fierce appetite. Libby rocked him in time to the music, whisper-sang into his ear, making up the words she could not remember: “Ethan’s got a ticket to fly, Ethan’s got a ticket to fly-y-y.”

  When the song finished, she took his hands in hers, and they clapped together.

  “Well, look at you, all cute.”

  She turned toward the voice, saw Charles and Gerry approach, hand in hand. Both of them dressed smart-casual, light suits, open-collared shirts. Ethan squirmed out of her lap, dropped to the ground, and ran to Gerry. Gerry crouched down and gathered him up in his arms.

  “There’s my little man,” he said, swinging Ethan around as he giggled.

  Charles took Libby’s hand, bent down, and placed the softest of kisses on the freckled skin. “You look wonderful,” he said, and she smelled a whiff of fresh alcohol.

  “Oh, stop,” she said, involuntarily brushing her hair away from her forehead.

  She would never admit it in a million years, but she had fussed for forty minutes over what to wear. While Ethan lay on the bed watching the Disney Channel, she had tried on the five different dresses she’d brought with her. She had posed in front of the full-length mirror with each one, checking how it hung, how it swung, how it clung, even asking Ethan’s opinion. He thought all of them were pretty, leaving her none the wiser. Eventually, she settled on the sleeveless dress with the floral-on-black print, and a pair of strappy heels.

  “I look good,” she had told her reflection, even if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. And anyway, why was she dressing to impress a man who—as one of her work colleagues put it—played for the other team? Because I can, she thought. Because it’s good for my soul. Because it’s not for him, it’s for me.

  “Stop nothing,” Charles said as he sat down at the table. “You look great and you know it.”

  She couldn’t help but dip her head as she thanked him, a bashful gesture, and for some reason it made her angry at herself. So she raised her head, looked Charles in the eye, and thanked him again.

  “Where’s the booze?” he said, casting his gaze around. “It’s flowing like mud around here.”

  He spotted a waiter, raised his hand, clicked his fingers.

  “Take it easy,” Gerry said as he negotiated his way into a chair with Ethan still clinging to him. “You’ve got all night to get drunk.”

  Charles gave him a hard look across the table, and Libby sensed the tension, that this discussion had begun earlier and was not yet over.

  “Okay, Mom, don’t worry, I’ll order some water too.” As the waiter approached the table, Charles pointed to Libby. “Negroni?”

  Libby hesitated, unwilling to admit she didn’t know what that was. “Sure,” she said.

  “And what’s young sir having?”

  “Apple juice would be great.”

  Charles turned to the waiter. “Three negronis and an apple juice, if you’d be so kind.”

  “And water,” Gerry said.

  “Yeah, and some tap water, thank you.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll be right back with those,” the waiter said, and hurried away.

  Libby observed as Gerry stared at Charles, who could not meet his gaze.

  “Gerry thinks I drink too much,” Charles said. “Which is rich, seeing as he likes to tie one on as much as I do.”

  “It’s not that I think you drink too much, not really,” Gerry said. “It’s just, there’s a time and a place, you know?”

  Charles stretched his
hands out to indicate the world all around. “Sure, but if this isn’t the time and the place, then what is?”

  Gerry conceded and said, “Okay, just go easy, all right?”

  Charles reached over and took his hand. “All right. Now stop worrying. Remember, we’re here to show this lady a good time.”

  Over the next hour and a half, Libby learned two things: that she liked negronis a great deal, and that Charles was a good dancer. He’d studied a little ballroom in his younger days, he said, and he moved with a smooth grace that seemed to lend itself to Libby as she allowed him to lead. She couldn’t help but giggle when he spun her around, when he dipped her back, when he pulled her in close.

  The odor of alcohol had disappeared now that she was a few drinks in. Instead, she smelled his cologne, and the warm man scent of him. She sighed and rested her forehead against his shoulder, felt the coarse stubble of his cheek against hers.

  “What?” he said.

  She lifted her head, looked him in the eye, then away again as she laughed.

  “What?”

  “It’s just…”

  She laughed again, delicious ripples coursing up from her belly.

  “Come on,” he said. “Tell me.”

  “It’s just, oh God, I wish you were straight.”

  Now he laughed, and hugged her tight. He released her, held her out at arm’s length.

  “You know what we’re going to do?” he said.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” she said.

  “Tomorrow night, Gerry is going to babysit Ethan. Right? And you and me are going to hit the town. And you know what we’re going to do then?”

  She snorted. “Oh God, what?”

  “We’re going to find you a man and get you laid.”

  “Stop.” She slapped his chest. “I don’t need to get laid. I mean, I do, but not that urgently. What I need is to dance, get a little drunk, and laugh. And you’ve got that covered, so thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, and kissed her cheek.

  Gerry appeared beside them, Ethan in his arms. “Hey, young lovers, I hate to break it up, but I think someone’s about done for the night.”