Page 91 of What's in a Kiss?

“Give me two minutes,” Ivy says and pushes her way off the van. She pulls the woman with the clipboard aside.

Jake and I stroll a bit, walking past the ropes course, gazing at Descanso Beach below, then the mainland far off in the hazy distance.

“Great news!” Ivy calls, cupping her hands around her mouth.

I slink my arm around Jake’s waist. “See? I knew this would work out.”

“They have one more seat,” Ivy says, her gaze on Jake then back at me. “For you.”

“What?” I narrow my eyes at her.

“I’m sorry. I tried. They’ve only had one cancellation. Itwouldgive us the chance to catch up on some very pressing business. But I mean, if you want to, you can take my spot, Jake—”

“Oh no,” Jake says, throwing up his hands. “I’ll see you later, Liv—”

“Jake, wait—” I say.

“I’m scared of heights,” he says. “I hate this kind of thing. You know that.”

“I’ll go with you. We can get more rum raisin.”

“No,” he says, his voice unyielding. He takes a breath, meets my eyes. There’s love in them and a breaking point, the kind of thing married people learn to respect in each other. “Do the ride. I’m going to take a walk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Shuttle’s leaving,” the clipboard lady calls.

“Have fun,” Jake says. “I’ll meet you at the champagne sabering.”

I board the shuttle and slump onto a bench at the back of the van. This was supposed to be a shared experience.

Ivy squeezes onto the bench beside me. I sense that she’s bursting with things to tell me, but experience seems to have taught her to wait out my mood.

“Thanks for getting me the seat,” I say.

The shuttle chugs up a long and winding hill, past herds of grazing buffalo, until we’re faced with staggering panoramic views of the sea. Across the steep canyon below stretch thick steel wires of sheer exhilaration. I tell myself Jake’s happier wherever his walk took him than he would have been with his eyes jammed shut, zooming in a leather diaper through the sky. I tell myself that what I said earlier only came from good intentions, and that Jake knows that, too. By 6:57 we’ll be cracking jokes about the size of Aurora’s saber, then we’ll be sipping champagne and dancing—our first time since Masha’s wedding. This time, I’ll enjoy it.

One by one the other zip-liners depart, screaming and laughing as they fly high across the canyon.

“Are you ready?” the guide asks me at the threshold. The drop is death-defying and my heart soars into my throat. I remember from years ago that it takes a leap of faith to lift your feet on this initial jump, to trust that the rope and wire are strong enough for the weight of all you’ve brought.

I could use a leap of faith. I take a breath—

And feel my phone buzz.

I inch backward, away from the edge. “I’ll just be a second,” I say to the guide who’s waiting for me to go.

I unlock my phone. It’s a text from Jake.

My walk led me to the ferry terminal, and I caught the last boat home. Let’s take a beat and talk tomorrow when you get back? Have fun tonight. I love you.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I skip the zip line, take the shuttle back down, and run to the ferry dock and confirm there are no more boats to the mainland tonight. I’m stuck here without Jake. Without Jake is the last place I want to be.

I stand on the dock and look across the lonely, foggy sea, feeling every inch of the three miles back to Los Angeles. I call Jake five times. Each one goes straight to voicemail. Either the ferry has no service or he doesn’t want to speak to me.

Have fun tonight, he’d texted. How?