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‘I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.’ I gesture to his phone. Based on the angle he was holding it, it looks like he was recording a voice memo. ‘Sorry to interrupt.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘Taking notes for your article?’

‘Yeah.’

I make quotation marks with my fingers. ‘“Why any of this?”’ I mean it to be playful, but he looks uneasy. ‘Sounds serious.’

‘Yeah, well… you know…’ He gestures at the dark ocean in front of us, where a tiny glinting light represents the Riovan. From here, it feels like I could pinch my fingers and snuff it out.

‘The intense wellness culture deserves our curiosity, you know?’ he says. ‘What drives people to drop all this money on their bodies?’

‘Easy.’ I sit next to him with a light laugh, stretching my legs out in the sand. ‘The Riovan makes its money from people who desperately want to love themselves. The market is huge, because people are taught to fear their own bodies, and fear breeds hatred.’

I’m impressed that I said that. Though… maybe not my smartest move, revealing to an investigative journalist that I don’t actually think the sun shines out of the Riovan’s ass.

He grins. ‘Can I quote you on that?’

‘Hell, no,’ I say with a grin of my own.

‘Well, at least satisfy my curiosity. If that’s what you think of the Riovan, why come back so often?’

Ah. The same question he asked Vic. But I have no temptation towards honesty tonight; Daniel gets my standard response.

‘Sun. Sand. A break from Cincinnati.’

‘Low hourly pay.’

‘Trainers who can help me fine-tune my goblet squat.’

He laughs. ‘What the hell is a goblet squat?’

I give him a coy smile. ‘Do you need me to show you?’

‘Under different circumstances, I’d be tempted to say yes.’

‘I don’t think poorly of the Riovan, though,’ I say quickly. I got a little too negative too fast, and I have a cover to maintain. ‘I’m not anti -fitness. It’s just… Never mind. Ignore everything I’ve said. I get philosophical when it’s late.’

He nods affably. ‘So what do you do in Cincinnati when you’re not lifeguarding?’

I hesitate. Then again, he could find this on Google. ‘I run a catering business.’

‘An entrepreneur. Hey, I bet you serve bacon,’ he says with mock-longing.

I have to laugh at this. It’s a good feeling, laughing. It makes my body feel awake, alive.

‘Bacon-wrapped dates with blue cheese sauce,’ I count playfully on my fingers. ‘Bacon and spring greens risotto. Bacon and maple doughnuts. Bacon cheddar biscuits—’

‘Stop!’ he begs. ‘I can only take so much temptation. So, Ohio State graduate?’

‘Uh… I’m more of a school of life kind of girl.’

‘That fits in with my theory about you.’

‘You have a theory about me?’ I shouldn’t be loving that so much.

He smiles self-deprecatingly. ‘I have a theory about everyone. It’s a journalist thing.’

OK, that’s fine, we’re fine.

He continues, ‘I see you as a maverick. And by that, I don’t mean a rebel. I think you’re a very ethical person. It’s just… I feel like you’re the kind of person who has their own moral code.’ His eyes challenge me. True?

I keep my expression neutral, but my heart is beating fast. Really fast. Is this a smart game to play?

‘What else?’ I find myself saying.

He tents both hands at his mouth, hiding a tiny smile. ‘You’re old beyond your years. I think you saw a lot growing up, and it’s made you guarded.’ A flash of firework lights his face briefly. ‘You’re independent. You’re not afraid of being alone. But… I think you’re deeply lonely.’

Fuck. How can he have seen… all of this? Who is this guy?

‘So,’ he says. ‘This is the part where you tell me I’m totally off base.’

I should shut this down. Say something trite, stand up, rejoin my group. Brianna! Where is she?

‘No… you’re right,’ I say, absentmindedly looking over my shoulder, as if I’m expecting Brianna to be lurking nearby.

‘I… I did have to grow up fast. My mom died of breast cancer when I was young. I got a lot of unwelcome attention. I had to figure my shit out real fast.’ I throw a quick glance at Daniel.

Are you happy now? ‘Whatever. It’s in the past.’

I wait for his reaction, but he’s silent. Saying nothing is probably one of those dirty journalist tricks that gets people to talk even more. Won’t work on me, bud.

‘And the lonely part?’ he finally presses. ‘Was I wrong about that?’

I dart another glance his way. His eyes are hooded. Is this a come-on? Maybe. Do I care?

My heart is beating fast. I shouldn’t be saying anything more about myself. I come back to the Riovan year after year because I do my job and I don’t draw attention to myself. My invisibility is my re-entry ticket, and revealing shit about myself could really screw things up down the road.

‘I did have someone,’ I say quickly. ‘We were in love. I was going to marry her.’

‘What happened?’

Of course he would ask that. I went there.

The question is, do I want to keep going?

I peel my eyes away from Daniel and look out at the ocean.

The reflections of the fireworks in the water seem more melancholy than festive here on the darker, quieter area of the beach.

I remember lying back with Mom on a picnic blanket every Fourth of July.

We’d hold hands as we watched the sky bloom into a living garden of light.

Fireworks blaze so powerfully, you can’t look away.

They overwhelm your senses with light and sound.

And then, they’re over, and the sky is black and empty again.

‘She’s gone,’ I say. To Daniel. To the ocean.

To myself. My heart is thundering. I swallow.

Do I make it sound like we broke up, like I did this morning with Vic?

Something about Daniel is suddenly demanding more from me.

And the scary thing is, I want to respond.

‘There was… an accident. I… I blame myself.’

He’s silent for a moment, as if waiting to see if I’ll offer more.

I don’t, even though I want to. The story is pressing on my heart, pressing for release.

Instead, I wrap my arms around my torso, like that will help me keep it all in.

Oof. It’s not just thinking about Jessica.

This stark summation of my life I’ve just given to Daniel?

It’s a story without a lot of fluff. A life that was mostly hard.

It feels… depressing. Depressing as hell.

It also doesn’t escape my notice that within minutes of talking to Daniel, I’ve revealed the two biggest events of my life: losing my mom and losing my girlfriend. What’s scariest is that, far from taking it all back, I want to give him more.

That’s the thing about starting; it’s hard to stop.

‘Her name was Jessica,’ I say, and as I utter her name, my throat squeezes painfully.

I place my palms in the sand, as if trying to find an anchor in something bigger than me.

Something stable. Instead, I think of the grains of sand, and how once they were rock, strong and stable, now mere specks, remnants of what they were.

So small, who could even distinguish one from the other?

‘I’ve always liked the name Jessica,’ he says.

‘Yeah. Me too.’

The waves lap the shore. The music from the Mambotel pulses in the background. Down the beach, two pirates perform a choreographed sword fight to cheering onlookers. I think, What a strange world.

Daniel and I sit quietly, side by side. He says nothing, but he says, I’m sorry , and I say nothing, but I say, I know.