CHAPTER 7
MONDAY MORNING, AND I had my day all planned out. Yoga. Go for a jog. Brunch at Monty’s and hold the whipped cream. Then I was going on a boat trip. No, really. Miranda had told me about a glass-bottomed boat that did trips around the island, and I planned to be on the two o’clock sailing.
“If you don’t get on that bloody boat, I’ll fly over and throw you in the sea,” Emmy had said to me when we spoke earlier. She’d called while I was still in bed, my back aching from the lumpy mattress.
For a second I was tempted to let her. I knew she’d come to the Caymans and help if I asked, but I needed to salvage what little pride I had left. “I love you too.”
“I know. But seriously, how’s it going?”
“Slowly. I just wish he’d get off the boat more often. That secretary must suck like a
