But she can travel backward only in her mind. In real time, she has no choice but to move forward. Baker. And Floyd too, she supposes. Assuming they come back.

“I slept with Baker last week,” Ayers says. “The night we broke up.”

Mick’s eyebrows shoot up in an expression of surprise, and then a split second later, Ayers sees the hurt, which was her aim. “Banker? Wow. You wasted no time.”

Ayers props herself up on her elbows. “I like him,” she says. “He’s a grown-up. He doesn’t lie to me.”

“Doesn’t he?” Mick says. “He didn’t tell you who he was. And his father”—Mick whistles—“didn’t exactly serve as a role model in the honesty department.”

Ayers should never have told Mick anything about Baker. “He’s not his father,” she says. “I’m nothing like my parents. You’re nothing like yours.”

“Point taken,” Mick says. “I’m sure you want me to be angry or jealous about your tryst with Banker, and I am.” He takes a couple of deep breaths and Ayers can see his Irish temper eddying beneath the surface. Baker is bigger than Mick, but Mick is fiercer; if they ever came to blows, Baker would lose. “But I’m glad you got it out of your system. I had my fling and now you’ve had yours—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Mick,” Ayers says. “I didn’t do it for revenge. This isn’t a tit for tat. And by the way, I waited until we were broken up—”

“You waited, what, an hour? And we aren’t really broken up. We had a misunderstanding, and you overreacted. Bumping into Brigid on the ferry doesn’t warrant a breakup. Check the relationship rule book. Ask your friends.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Ayers says.

“That’s what this is really about,” Mick says. “Banker, Money…they’re attractive to you because it’s a connection to Rosie.”

“Baker is in love with me,” Ayers says.

“Oh, really?” Mick says. “Well, where is he now? Is he here with a pineapple-banana smoothie, waiting for you in the Jeep? Has he planned the best day off imaginable, complete with a new Jack Johnson Spotify playlist and a solemn promise that we can order the carbonara pizza and the bloomin’ onion pizza and the chocolate-banana Pizza Stix? Did he arrange for Captain Stephen from the Singing Dog to play his guitar for three hours this afternoon? Did he make a reservation for tonight at the Longboard?”

“I have Maia tonight,” Ayers says.

“I know,” Mick says. “I made the reservation for three people.”

Ayers has to give him credit for that. Maia will die of happiness, eating at the Longboard with Mick. She loves the lobster tacos.

“It’s over, Mick,” Ayers says, though even she can hear that her voice lacks conviction. “Go to Christmas Cove by yourself and when everyone asks where I am, tell them we broke up. Or better still, take Brigid with you so they figure it out on their own.”

“I called Bex at Rhumb Lines,” Mick says. “I begged her to take Brigid off my hands, but she says she’s fully staffed. Then I heard Robert and Brittany at Island Abodes were looking for someone to help out with the villas. Brigid has an interview with them on Thursday.”

“Poor Robert and Brittany,” Ayers says. They’re one of the nicest, coolest couples on island, and they have a cute baby. “But it’ll be good for Brigid to get a different kind of job. She’s a terrible server.”

“Agreed,” Mick says. “I wish I’d never hired her. I wish I’d never met her. But what’s done is done. She’ll be out of the Beach Bar by next week.”

Ayers can’t deny it—this news pleases her.

“Back to Banker,” Mick says. “Does he know that you’re ticklish right here?” Mick digs his fingers into Ayers’s ribs. She shrieks and soon they’re tussling in bed and Mick crawls on top of her and she lets him rest on her for a couple of seconds before pushing him off.

“I have a surprise for you,” Mick says. “Two surprises. One for now and one for later. Does Banker know how much you love surprises?”

Ayers does love surprises. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll come.”

It’s a swan song, she tells herself, a last hurrah. Because she has Maia tonight, there’s no danger of her sleeping with Mick. There’s no reason they can’t go out together in public as friends.

The second Ayers sits in Mick’s Jeep with Gordon perched in her lap, she feels happy about her decision. The day is crystal clear, sunny, and hot—and what else would Ayers have done with her time? She would have holed up at home and read Rosie’s diaries. She has been so engrossed in the story about Russ, she’s on the verge of becoming addicted. She has finally gotten to the part where they’re reunited. Russ knows about Maia. Rosie knows about Irene and the boys.

They’re going to be together.

It’s good for Ayers to leave the diaries alone for a while. She sips the smoothie Mick got her from Our Market and sings along to Chesney on the radio. This is what a day off is supposed to feel like.

Mick turns onto Great Cruz Bay Road and Ayers says, “Where are we going?”

“Surprise number one,” Mick says. Great Cruz Bay Road is one of Ayers’s favorite places; it has views northwest over the Westin toward St. Thomas and Water Island. Mick follows the road almost to the tip of the point, then he signals and turns into a driveway marked with a sign that says PURE JOY. This leads to an adorable white cottage with bright blue shutters. It reminds Ayers of the months that she and her parents spent living on Santorini.

They climb out of the car. “Follow me,” Mick says. He steps up onto the wraparound porch that has an uninterrupted water view.

“What are we doing here?”

“This is my new place,” Mick says.

“You bought it?”

“Renting,” Mick says. “Long-term. But it’s mine. You want to see the rest?”

He leads her inside, and everything is picture-perfect. There’s a bedroom, living room, dining nook, kitchen, and a brand-new, sparkling-white-tiled bathroom; every room in the house has a view of the water. On the deck is a grill and a hot tub, and around the corner is an outdoor shower painted the same blue as the shutters.

It’s a real place. Not a hole-in-the-wall like where Mick lives now, which meant that he was always crashing at Ayers’s in a way that felt like he was infringing on her space. For years, Ayers has been begging him to find someplace better. And now he has. This cottage—Pure Joy—is a dream.

“This is amazing,” Ayers says. “You’ll be much happier here.”

“We will be happier here,” Mick says. “I got it for us. See those chairs?” He points to two stools, upholstered in blue, in front of a bar counter. “Those are what convinced me to take it. I pictured the two of us coming home from work late at night and having a drink there together—and can you imagine the sunset from here?”

“Hashtag sunset,” Ayers says. “Your Instagram account will blow up.”

“We can have our coffee out here in the mornings,” Mick says.