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I've not seen him since then. We've avoided each other. Which is why it pisses me off so much when, standing up, with the seabed squashing sand between my toes, the sun forcing me to squint, I notice a stranger up on the beach who looks exactly like him. There's Mum and Dad and my two brothers, Alex and Laurie, and there's Laurie's wife, Kate, too. We got in an hour ago, the owners of the villa having kindly packed us a picnic basket for an early supper, which we schlepped down here, along with some beach chairs and our towels. Just the six of us. Except...I'm here, so that should be five bodies up there on the sand.

I lower my body back into the warmth of the sea and swim as close to the shore as possible, staying submerged so I can surreptitiously dislodge a wedgie. I turn to look again, now I'm closer. It's then that I realize the sixth person up there with my family definitely isn't a passing local or a figment of my imagination.

It is Jamie.

And I am suddenly absolutely furious.

CHAPTER TWO

I can see, as I climb out of the water, that he's the color of baked earth after six months of sailing yachts across the seven seas for millionaires who like to leave their boats in one place but pick them up in another. He's broad— broader than he deserves to be—and the thick dent of his spine looks like somebody has taken their thumb and smudged down the center of his back: lumps and bumps and pops all around it in, places I didn't even know there could be lumps and bumps and pops. His arms are as thick as my thighs. Jesus, what a show-off. I'm all for keeping fit, but Jamie takes it too far. That time could be spent on other things, like...reading...or...watching The Real Housewives of New York City. You've got to be super-vain to work out so much. But then that's Jamie Kramer: vain as they come.

I take a breath, readying for that look he gives me: blank, unmoved, bored. It was always that way, until it wasn't. Years of ignoring me, then four days of & well, whatever Christmas was. The Big Almost. And then I might have egged Jamie's car when he pied me off. So now we're back to not speaking, as if Christmas never even happened. That's useful, really: Nobody else knows what happened, of course. Over my dead body do I want my family's pity. Kate has intuited some sort of dalliance, but even she doesn't know it all.

I will say hello, because he's my brother's best friend, my parents treat him like a son, and I know Kate will be holding her breath to see if I'm going to be polite. Quite frankly I don't want to be the source of any gossip, and let's be clear: My family loves to gossip, about one another most of all. I wring out the seawater from my hair, shake the water off my arms, and make my approach to grab a beer and acknowledge Jamie's stupid arrival.

As I walk up to the cooler that we stashed the drinks in, Jamie turns just enough that I know he knows I'm here, but after an almost imperceptible beat he focuses his attention fully back on Mum, without acknowledging me. I could write the book on how this will go. Mum is in sickening rapture at whatever ridiculous thing he's telling her. She's practically fawning—she finds him delightful and such fun, a really lovely boy—but I will do no such thing. This is how Jamie plays it with everyone. He lets people come to him, flexing his gravitational pull with that smile and that easy laugh. I tried to bring it up with my mother a little while ago, about how he's stealthily manipulative, and she told me not to be so sensitive, that I was reading too much into it. The implication is that I do that because I am a bit unhinged and so I never brought it up again. But I know I'm right. He is manipulative. And vain. And rude. He uses people. He used me.

"Oi, oi!" Laurie hollers in Jamie's direction. "Here he is, flexing his biceps as he drinks, like he's posing for hidden paparazzi."

Laurie suddenly has Jamie in a quasi-headlock, arm looped around his neck and pulling down so that he can rub his hair. Jamie pushes him off easily. I step back so I don't get caught in the crossfire.

"Don't hate the player," Jamie says with a grin and a shrug.

"I could never," Laurie says with a laugh. "Although ef me, you're showing the rest of us up a bit, don't you think?"

Jamie chuckles and throws back the rest of his beer, and I sidestep around him. The smell of salt water on my skin is gently warmed by sun so friendly it's like a happy Labrador clamoring for a cuddle. And yet that's not enough to calm the thump in my chest as I get my drink and pop the lid off, raising it defiantly in Jamie's direction as I make my way over to Kate.

"Hello, Jamie," I say, not looking at him, acting as cool and indifferent as I can manage. I've already sauntered off as he says my name in return.