“Please tell me the humidity isn’t causing it.”
“Stress. Sounds crazy . . .” she coughed again. “But it’s worse when things get crazy in my life.”
“Is that normal?”
“For me. It might be time for new medication.”
Gabi placed a hand on Meg’s arm. “Is there anything other than medication that helps?”
Meg looked to the sky as if it held the answer. “I used to target shoot.”
Gabi knew her expression showed doubt.
“Seriously . . . the concentration helped. Maybe I should try skeet. Doesn’t Val have that here?”
The expression on Meg’s face lit up with Val’s name on her lips. “He does.”
There was a pause before Meg asked, “You approve of me and your brother?”
“I like how he smiles when he sees you. He works too hard and takes everything so seriously. It’s nice to see him relax.”
Meg nodded a few times before they were interrupted by dockhands moving toward them.
Alonzo’s yacht slowly made its way into their small port. Receiving hands on the dock caught the ropes and tied them up. Gabi searched the deck to find it void of Alonzo. He finally emerged after the crew secured the gangplank.
His gaze moved between her and Meg and back again. “Gabriella.”
She opened her arms to his stiff frame. “Darling.” His kiss was brief, much more so than the last few times he’d visited the island.
He placed his lips close to her ear. “Public displays in front of a stranger, Gabi.”
She laughed off his concern. “You remember Margaret?”
“Of course. I’m surprised to see you still here.”
“Good to see you again, too, Mr. Picano. Our visit is scheduled to last a few more days.”
“Meg wanted to see the yacht,” Gabi told him.
Alonzo attempted to smile, but Gabi could tell he wasn’t happy with the thought. “Let me give my crew time to settle. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“She came all the way out here—”
“I’m sure Margaret understands. Would you want to entertain in a dirty kitchen?”
Alonzo was a bit of a perfectionist. She’d not seen anything he had a part in out of place. The one time she’d sailed on the yacht the staff kept everything immaculate.
“I get it,” Meg said with a generous smile. “Another time.”
“Yes, another time,” Alonzo murmured.
“I should get back,” Meg broke the awkward moment of quiet. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Until then,” Gabi said before Meg turned and walked away.
“Dinner?”
“We’ve grown quite close in the past few days. She really is a lovely person.”
Alonzo disengaged his arm from her waist and signaled one of his staff over. “I don’t know how you can determine that in just a few days. People here tend to pretend they are what they are not.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means be careful who you trust, Gabriella.” The warning felt odd coming from him.
“She’s a friend, Alonzo. Please don’t treat her poorly.”
He lost his smile. “You have no friends.”
His words hurt, partly because they were true.
“I do now.”
His captain disembarked and walked to their side.
“You’re busy. I’ll see you once you’ve settled.” Anger she wasn’t prepared for fueled her quick steps as she walked away.
Alonzo scrambled after her and grasped her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said once she looked at him. “I’ve had a stressful week.”
So have I, she wanted to say but didn’t. “It’s OK.”
He pulled her into his arms. It was her turn to feel stiff. The eyes of his staff watched until she noticed them, and they quickly looked away. “Public displays, Alonzo,” she tossed his words back.
He kissed the top of her forehead. “I’ll see you at the villa.”
With a tilt of her head, she walked away. It would be nice to have a friend, especially one as outgoing as Meg.
Why, after only a few days, did the other woman’s opinion count? If she wanted Meg’s approval of her fiancé, something told Gabi she wasn’t going to get it.
Mrs. Masini skipped dinner, a testimony to the company . . . or at least that’s what Meg thought.
Val invited two other couples to keep the conversation filtered, which suited Meg perfectly. The thought of bringing up any of the drama in front of Alonzo gave her gut a twist.
Mr. and Mrs. Dray were pure Texan oil. Unless they liked to play dress-up in the bedroom, the only reason they were on the island was for the sunsets and beach. Mrs. Cornwell, a wealthy widow of one of Chicago’s celebrated restaurateurs, and her longtime friend, Mr. Shipley, filled the seats at the round table.
Meg cringed to see wine set on the table. She really was done with the stuff after so many days.
Mrs. Dray held herself with an air of superiority that reminded Meg of every stuffy neighbor she’d passed, but never met, while living at Michael’s home. She was about to write the woman off as someone she didn’t want to know until she passed on the wine and told the waiter to bring her a bourbon.
“I think I like you,” Meg said from across the table. “Make that two.”
“I do apologize, Mr. Picano. I appreciate a nice glass with my meal, but I prefer something a little stronger before supper.”
Alonzo offered a smile that Meg could only categorize as fake and shook his head. “Not a problem, Mrs. Dray.”