“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m not sure what got into me.”

“I kissed you first,” Daria said.

“Remember?”

“Well, I’m sure that we were both just responding to what an emotional night it’s been. Let’s not let it harm our friendship. Okay?”

The pain she felt was physical, in her throat, in her chest. He didn’t have a clue what this had meant to her. He could rationalize it all away. She sat up and pulled on the sweatshirt and pants, feeling his eyes on her, his hand on her back, and she wondered if he felt the icy tension coursing through her muscles.

“Well, Rory,” she said, standing up.

“This may have been nothing more than a response to an emotional evening for you, but for me it was something much more. I’m in love with you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Without waiting for his response, she turned and left the cottage, running as fast as the wind would let her across the cul-de-sac to the Sea Shanty.

(jfrace stared out the motel window, and her eyes ached from trying to pierce the darkness and the rain. Where was Rory? Where was Shelly?

She was certain she’d heard Rory correctly when he’d told her the name of the motel where they were planning to wait out the storm. She’d checked and rechecked the name and number. Every time a new car pulled into the motel parking lot, she followed it with her eyes, hoping, hoping. She wondered if some how she had missed them, and they were in the motel, after all, maybe just down the hall from her. She would have loved to call the front desk and ask if Rory Taylor ^ had kept his reservation, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t alone in the room.

“Do you want any of this?” Eddie’s voice came from behind her, where he was sitting on the bed. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was eating chow mein from a carton.

“No, thanks.” She returned her gaze to the window, although by now she knew her vigilance was futile. For one reason or another, they weren’t coming. Dear God, let Shelly be all right.

Eddie finished the chow mein and put the empty carton on the nightstand. 5:

“Grace,” he said, “you’ve been standing at that win dow all night. Who are you waiting for?” He spoke so softly that she barely heard him above the sound of the storm. There was no accusation in his voice, only the gentle question.

“No one.” She walked over to the chair at the side of the room and sat down, giving up.

“Just watching the storm,” she said. It had shocked her to discover that Eddie had followed her all the way from Rodanthe.

She’d been angry at first to find him at her motel-room door, but now that she realized Shelly and Rory weren’t coming, she was glad she was not alone. Eddie had said nothing about why she had picked a motel so far from Rodanthe, and she’d offered no explanation. Now he shifted his position on the bed, and she knew that he wanted to talk.

He leaned toward her.

“I love you. Grace,” he said.

“And I need to know what’s going on. I’m worried about you. If it’s another medical problem, we’ll work it out. Please let me in on what’s troubling you.”

He was pleading with her, and she felt cruel.

“It’s more than Pam,” Eddie said. “It has to be. Why are you so secretive these days?

Where are you spending so much of your time? “

Most men might guess that a woman so preoccupied, so absent from home, was having an affair; but Eddie knew better. He knew she had nothing to give anyone right now.

“I’m all right, Eddie,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about… me, or about anything, really. I just want to go to sleep. And I can’t sleep with you.” Her voice broke on the last word. The thought of lying next to her husband in bed was unbearable. Because she hated him. And because she loved him.

“I’ll ask them to bring in a cot,” he said, reaching for the phone.

After a silence-filled half hour, a housekeeper rolled a cot into the room. Grace undressed in the bathroom, and when she returned to the room, Eddie was already beneath the covers on the cot and had turned out the light.

“I love you,” he said once she’d gotten into bed, and

Grace squeezed her eyes shut, pretending the clamor of the storm had swallowed his words before she’d had a chance to hear them.

She tried not to think about anything—not about Shelly or the storm or about Eddie lying nearby. Yet her mind would not cooperate, and the memory of the modeling job in Maui came to her, quick, sharp and unbidden.

She remembered every miserable detail, even the sun-bum. In the mirror above the marble-topped vanity, her shoulders glowed a fiery red. It was a good thing that day had been the final shoot, because her skin would not hold up to another day of Hawaii’s burning sun. But that was not the only reason she was anxious for this job to be over.

She had made great strides in her modeling career, garnering enough attention and positive commentary at the age of seventeen that she’d been hired for this photo shoot in Hawaii, along with three other models from Brad’s agency. It was her big chance, and she’d been thrilled with the opportunity. Right from the start of the trip, though, she knew she was in trouble.

She’d sat with Brad on the plane. It was always that way. The other models would hang out together, while she would be with Brad. The girls were jealous of her relationship with the head of the modeling agency, and they treated her coolly. She’d learned to stick close to the only person who cared about her—Brad. He was kind and tender, and although he told her repeatedly that he was in love with her, he never pressed her for anything more intimate then a warm embrace. Although his restraint confused her, she was grateful for it. She didn’t know how she would refuse someone who had done so much for her.

They had flown first class, of course, and the other models sat near them in the plane. The girls had bantered among themselves, talking openly and loudly about bing ing on sweets and throwing up, about sex and drugs. But the thing that had disturbed Grace most was that Brad had joined in the conversation.

She was shocked to realize that he, too, used cocaine and popped pills. Somehow, he had kept that sickening fact hidden from her, but it was obvious that with these three more experienced models, all of whom seemed to know him well, he felt comfortable showing that side of himself. She’d felt small, scared and alone on the plane, and that feeling had only worsened during the five days in Maui. The only time she’d felt comfortable and confident was in front of the camera’s lens.

She slathered moisturizer over her sunburn and slipped into a short black dress with spaghetti straps for the party Brad was throwing in his suite that evening. She would have preferred to stay in her sumptuous hotel room and read for her last night in Maui, but she knew that part of her success as a model was dependent on her making an appearance at events like this one. She would cut out first chance she got.

By the time she got to Brad’s suite, it seemed that everyone was already high on something, and she felt nearly overcome by her social awkwardness.

“There she is!” Brad said as he moved through the crowd toward her. He held her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek, and she smelled the alcohol on his breath, although she guessed that alcohol was not all he had ingested.

She plastered a smile on her face as Brad moved her through the crowd, his arm around her waist. He introduced her to people and poured her a drink she knew she wouldn’t touch. She interpreted the gaze of the other models as envy and disdain and the stares of the photographers and makeup artists as critical. The suite was smoke-filled;

the music was too loud. She wondered how long she would have to stay.

“Come here,” Brad said, guiding her over to the side of the room.

Joey, one of the photographers, was there.

“How’s my favorite model?” Joey asked. His eyes were glassy.

“Okay,” Grace said. She had thought that Joey was kind of cute. He had long, curly blond hair and pale blue eyes, and she’d felt some attraction to him the day before when he’d taken pictures of her on the beach. But now the glassy-eyed look, the small white speck of chip dip at the corner of his lips, turned her off.

Brad suddenly flattened his hand against her stomach. The pressure was not intense, but the gesture was intimate and took her off guard. She tried to gently remove his hand, but he only laced his fingers between hers and pressed closer to her, kissing her cheek. “Brad,” she said, feigning a laugh as she tried to pull away. She couldn’t budge, though, because Joey was pressing against her from the other side. He leaned over to nuzzle her neck, his blond hair tickling her chin. She was sandwiched between them, unsure how to extricate herself. “Guys.” She managed another weak laugh, as though amused by their attention. The truth was, she felt trapped. She was pinned against the wall by two men who were slobbering on her. Her head throbbed with the loud music and her throat burned from the smoke. She felt betrayed by Brad, who until this moment, had treated her with nothing but respect, but she tolerated their antics until Joey raised his hand to her breast. Instinctively, she flailed against their arms and stepped away from the wall.

Brad quickly took her hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist again.

“Come here,” he said.

“Come with me.”

He walked with her into his bedroom, which was shut off from the party, and she pulled in a breath of clean air.

“It’s better in here, huh?” he asked.

“I’m so out of it tonight, I didn’t realize how bad it was out there.” He took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.

“Grace,” he said, “you know I love you, don’t you?” The scent of alcohol on his breath was nauseating.

“Yes, I know.” It came out as a whisper. She had a terrible feeling that he was finally going to ask her to sleep with him.

“Listen to what I’m going to tell you. Please. I’m on some medication, for a condition I have,” he said.

“And it makes me… impotent. Do you know what that means?”

“You can’t have sex,” she said.

“That’s right.” His jaw was tight.

“One of the shitty cards life dealt me. So this might sound kind of… kinky to you, but the way I get off is…” He winced, and she thought he looked embarrassed.

“What I’m trying to say is, I want you to have sex with Joey and let me watch.”

She gasped.

“No,” she said.

“You’re crazy.” She started to walk away from him, but he caught her arm.

“I’m begging you, Grace,” he said.

“I barely know Joey,” she said.

“And even if I was in love with him, I still wouldn’t let someone watch.”

“I know, I know. I know you’re not that kind of girl.” He smoothed his hand over her hair.

“Sweet Grace,” he said, and she thought she saw tears in his eyes.

“Please, Grace. I haven’t asked much of you, have

I?

“

He hadn’t. Up until now, he’d been nothing but generous and loving toward her.

“And I’ve done a lot for you. Grace,” he said.

“I’m asking you to do just this one thing for me.”

She tried to remember how cute Joey had looked on the beach the day before, with the sun in his hair, and the way he’d grin when she’d strike just the right pose. She closed her eyes, blocking her most recent image of him: the glassy eyes, the sloppy mouth. She was seventeen. Practically no one her age was still a virgin. Even Bonnie had done it a few times. What could it hurt?

She opened her eyes and looked at Brad.

“All right,” she said.

“But … the lights have to be really dim.”

Brad smiled.

“You’re a good egg,” he said.

“Wait here.”

She sat down on the bed. Her hands were damp and clammy, and she pressed them against her dress to dry them. What was she doing? She thought of all Brad had done for her. He’d paid for her classes. He’d charmed her mother into accepting her modeling. This was not such a huge favor. It was time she knew what it was like to make love to a man, anyhow. This just wasn’t the place—or the way—she’d expected to do it.

In a few minutes. Brad and Joey walked into the room. Neither of them said a word to her. Brad nipped off the lights, leaving just one dresser lamp burning, then sat in a chair in the corner. Joey instantly began unbuttoning his shirt, walking toward her.

She stood up and reached behind her back to unzip her dress, but Joey turned her around with a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll do that,” he said. He lowered the zipper, then slipped the spaghetti straps from her shoulders. As her dress fell to the floor, Joey pulled back the covers on Brad’s bed. Then he reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, glancing briefly at her bare breasts before lowering her panties.