At a distance I saw someone sitting in the sand. It was Liz. I halted, uncertain what to do. She was holding a champagne bottle. She lifted it to her mouth and took a long drink. She noticed me, then looked away, but the damage was done; I couldn’t turn back now.

I sat on the sand beside her. “Hey.”

“Of course it would be you,” she said, slurring her words.

“Why ‘of course’?”

She took another swig. The ring was on her finger. “I noticed you didn’t say anything tonight. It’s considered polite, you know, to congratulate the bride-to-be.”

“Okay, congratulations.”

“You say that with such conviction.” She sighed mournfully. “Jesus, am I drunk. Get this away from me.”

She passed me the bottle. Just the dregs remained; I wished there were more. There were times to be sober, and this wasn’t one of them. I polished it off and tossed it away.

“If you didn’t want to, why did you say yes?”

“With everyone staring at me? You try it.”

“So back out. He’ll understand.”

“No, he won’t. He’ll ask and ask, and I’ll eventually give in and be the luckiest woman on earth, to be married to Jonas Lear.”

We were quiet for a time.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

She laughed sarcastically. Her gaze was cast over the sea. “Why not? Everybody’s doing it.”

“That night in New York. I was asleep, and something happened. I felt something.”

“Did you now.”

“Yes, I did.” I waited. Liz said nothing. “Did you…kiss me?”

“Now, why would I do a thing like that?”

She was looking right at me. “Liz—”

“Shhh.” A frozen moment followed. Our faces were just a foot apart. Then she did something puzzling. She took off her glasses and put them in my hand.

“You know, without these, I can’t see anything. What’s funny is that it’s like nobody can see me, either. Isn’t that strange? I kind of feel invisible.”

I absolutely could have done it. Should have done it, long before. Why hadn’t I? Why hadn’t I taken her in my arms and pressed my mouth to hers and told her how I felt, consequences be damned? Who’s to say I couldn’t give her just as good a life? Marry me, I thought. Marry me instead. Or don’t marry anyone at all. Stay just as you are, and I will love you forever, as I do now, because you are the other half of me.

“Oh, God,” she said. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Then she did; she turned her face away and retched onto the sand. I held her hair back as all the lobster and champagne came up and out of her.

“I’m sorry, Tim.” She was crying a little. “I’m so sorry.”

I lifted her to her feet. She was mumbling more apologies as I draped her arm over my shoulders. She was close to dead weight now. Somehow I managed to haul her up the stairs and prop her in a chair on the divan on the porch. I was at a total loss; how would this look? I couldn’t take her up to her room, not with Stephanie there. I doubted I could have gotten her up the stairs anyway without waking the entire house. I drew her upright again and carried her to the living room. The sofa would have to do; she could always say she’d had trouble sleeping and come downstairs to read. A crocheted blanket lay across the back of the sofa; I pulled it over her. She was fast asleep now. I got a glass of water from the kitchen and put it on the coffee table where she could find it, then took a chair to watch her. Her breathing became deep and even, her face slack. I allowed some more time to pass to be certain she would not be sick again, and got to my feet. There was something I needed to do. I bent over her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good night,” I whispered. “Good night, goodbye.”

I crept up the stairs. Dawn wasn’t far off; through the open windows, I could hear the birds beginning to sing. I made my way down the hall to the room I shared with Jonas. I gently turned the handle and stepped inside, but not before I heard, behind me, the snap of a closing door.

—

The cab rolled up the drive at six A.M. I was waiting on the porch with my bag.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“The bus station.”

He glanced up through the windshield. “You really live in this place?”

“No chance of that.”

I was putting my bag in the trunk when the door of the house opened. Stephanie came striding down the walk, wearing one of the long T-shirts she slept in. It was actually one of mine.

“Sneaking off, are you? I saw the whole thing, you know.”

“It wasn’t what you thought.”

“Sure it wasn’t. You’re a total asshole, you know that?”

“I’m aware of that, yes.”

She rocked her face upward, hands on her hips. “God. How could I be so blind? It was totally obvious.”

“Do me a favor, will you?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Jonas can’t ever know.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, believe me, the last thing I want is to get mixed up with this mess. It’s your problem.”

“Feel free to think of it that way.”

“What do you want me to tell them? As long as I’m being such a fucking liar.”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t care. A sick relative. It doesn’t really matter.”