Chapter 2 - The Name He Wasn’t Supposed to Know
Ethan slept for approximately three hours.
At 4:58 a.m., he opened his eyes and immediately remembered the name.
André Laurent.
At 5:07, he decided he did not care.
At 5:12, he admitted that was a lie.
By 5:25, Ethan was downstairs drinking terrible hotel coffee while wedding guests dragged suitcases toward the shuttle.
Daniel spotted him immediately.
The groom was wearing sweatpants, a Northwestern hoodie, and the exhausted expression of a man whose wedding had officially ended six hours earlier.
“You actually changed your flight.”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared.
“How much?”
“That information is private.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred and eighty-seven.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Oh, Ethan.”
“That reaction feels judgmental.”
“It’s not judgment.”
Daniel opened his eyes again.
“It’s fascination. I lived with you for two years. You once walked twenty-two minutes back to a grocery store because the cashier accidentally gave you three dollars too much change.”
“That was different.”
“You changed a flight because of a woman whose phone number you don’t have.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds irresponsible.”
“It is irresponsible.”
Daniel smiled.
“I’m proud of you.”
Ethan did not smile back.
“Who’s André?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
Around them, guests hugged goodbye while drivers loaded luggage.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“You really want to do this before sunrise?”
“I’m already awake.”
“Elise should tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because Camille is her cousin.”
That surprised Ethan.
He had assumed Camille was a friend.
“How close?”
“Close enough that Elise will kill me if I tell the story wrong.”
Daniel looked toward the lobby.
“Come upstairs.”
Elise was removing hairpins when Ethan entered their suite.
She looked exhausted and completely happy.
Then she saw Ethan behind Daniel.
“Oh no.”
Daniel pointed.
“That is exactly what I said.”
Elise looked between them.
“You changed your flight.”
Ethan frowned.
“Does everyone know?”
“My family knew before you did.”
“How?”
“You danced with Camille four times.”
“Three.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You counted?”
“No.”
“You just corrected me.”
Elise laughed.
Then her expression softened.
“Sit down, Ethan.”
That sentence never preceded good news.
He sat.
Elise folded herself onto the sofa opposite him.
“André and Camille have known each other since they were nineteen.”
Ethan said nothing.
“They met at the University of Miami. They dated for six years.”
Six.
The number landed harder than Ethan expected.
“What happened?”
“Life.”
Elise sighed.
“André wanted to go to New York. Camille wanted to stay near her mother after Aunt Solange got sick. They tried long distance. Then André got offered work in Montreal. Then London.”
“They broke up?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Mostly.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What does mostly mean?”
“It means they stopped being a couple but never really stopped belonging to each other.”
Daniel leaned against the counter.
Elise continued.
“For almost four years, whenever one of them was single, they talked. Whenever they were both in the same city, they met. Every few months André would say maybe it was finally time to figure things out.”
“And Camille waited.”
Elise’s eyes met his.
“Yes.”
Something unpleasant settled in Ethan’s chest.
“Was he supposed to come to the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“As her date?”
Elise hesitated.
“That’s what Camille hoped.”
Not what André promised.
Ethan heard the distinction.
“What happened?”
“He canceled Friday.”
“Why?”
“Work.”
Elise’s expression made it clear she did not believe that was the entire story.
“He’s in New York right now. He told her he might come down after the wedding.”
“Might?”
“That’s André.”
Daniel quietly excused himself to take a call, leaving Ethan alone with Elise.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Elise leaned forward.
“Camille really liked you.”
Ethan laughed without humor.
“You’re about to tell me that doesn’t matter.”
“No.”
“I’m telling you it matters more than she wanted it to.”
That made him look up.
Elise continued.
“She asked me about you after the reception. She asked where you lived. Whether you were seeing anyone. How long you were staying.”
“She didn’t ask me.”
“Because Camille knows herself.”
“I don’t.”
“No.”
Elise smiled faintly.
“You don’t.”
Ethan waited.
“My cousin spent years learning how to survive uncertainty by pretending she was patient.”
Elise looked toward the balcony where sunrise was beginning to lighten the water.
“She tells everyone she’s not waiting for André.”
“But she is.”
“Yes.”
“And he knows?”
“I think so.”
That bothered Ethan.
It bothered him more than it should have.
“What am I supposed to do with that information?”
“Nothing.”
Elise’s answer came quickly.
“That is the important part. You don’t compete. You don’t rescue her. You don’t convince her.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because you stayed.”
Elise looked directly at him.
“And I don’t want you spending three days imagining Camille’s silence meant she didn’t feel anything.”
The room grew quiet.
Downstairs, a van door slammed.
Ethan looked at his hands.
“What if I just want to see her again?”
“Then see her.”
“How?”
Elise smiled.
“She’s coming to breakfast at my parents’ house at ten.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
“You arranged that.”
“No.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then how did—”
“Camille always goes there after family weddings to help clean up.”
Elise stood.
“But Ethan?”
He looked up.
“Don’t stay because you think three days is enough time to make her choose you.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
She moved toward the bedroom.
“Stay because for once in your life you already made a decision without knowing the outcome.”
At 9:52, Ethan stood outside the Baptiste family home in Islamorada holding a bakery box he had purchased entirely because showing up empty-handed felt socially dangerous.
The house was pale blue with white shutters and an enormous porch.
Cars filled the driveway.
He heard laughter from inside.
Ethan almost turned around.
Then the front door opened.
Camille stepped onto the porch carrying a trash bag.
She stopped.
Ethan stopped.
For one second, neither moved.
She was wearing denim shorts, a loose white button-down shirt, and sunglasses pushed into her hair.
No yellow dress.
No wedding lights.
No music.
And somehow Ethan’s reaction was exactly the same.
Camille stared at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in an airport?”
“I was.”
“That answer makes no sense.”
“I changed my flight.”
Her eyes dropped briefly to the bakery box.
Then back to his face.
“Why?”
Ethan had considered several clever responses.
Every one disappeared.
“I wasn’t ready to go home.”
Camille’s expression shifted.
She understood.
That was the problem.
Aunt Solange appeared behind her.
“Camille, who is—”
She saw Ethan.
Her face lit up.
“The dancer!”
Camille shut her eyes.
“Auntie.”
“What? Everybody saw.”
Solange waved Ethan inside.
“Come eat.”
Within thirty seconds, Ethan had been absorbed into the Baptiste family breakfast without anyone requesting his consent.
Someone took the bakery box.
Someone else handed him coffee.
An uncle asked whether Seattle really rained every day.
Camille remained near the kitchen door, watching.
Eventually Ethan found himself beside her near the back porch.
“You told them?”
“I told nobody.”
“Your aunt called me the dancer.”
“My aunt knows things before they happen.”
“That sounds useful.”
“It’s terrifying.”
Ethan smiled.
Then Camille’s eyes became serious.
“You really changed your flight?”
“Yes.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Thursday.”
She inhaled slowly.
“Ethan…”
There it was again.
That warning.
“I know about André.”
Camille froze.
The warmth vanished from her expression.
“Who told you?”
“Daniel.”
“Which means Elise told Daniel.”
“No. Elise told me after Daniel said the name.”
Camille looked toward the kitchen.
Her jaw tightened.
“They had no right.”
“I asked.”
“You didn’t have the right either.”
The sentence hit.
Ethan nodded.
“You’re right.”
That answer seemed to surprise her.
“I’m not here to interrogate you.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at her.
“Because last night was the best time I’ve had in longer than I can remember.”
Camille’s eyes softened despite herself.
“And because I wanted to see you again.”
She looked down.
For several seconds, Ethan thought she might leave.
Instead she said quietly, “André is coming tomorrow.”
Ethan had known she was waiting.
Knowing the arrival date was different.
“Okay.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Okay?”
“What else should I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him to come?”
Camille’s expression tightened.
“That’s complicated.”
“I’m getting that impression.”
She nearly smiled.
Then her phone vibrated on the porch railing.
Camille looked at the screen.
Everything about her changed.
Hope.
Fear.
Anger.
All at once.
Ethan did not need to ask whose name was there.
Camille picked up the phone.
The message was long enough that she had to scroll.
When she finished, her face had gone pale.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
Camille did not answer.
She reread it.
Then she turned the phone face down.
“André isn’t coming tomorrow.”
Ethan felt an instinctive surge of relief and immediately hated himself for it.
Camille continued.
May you like
“He’s coming today.”
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