By the end of the afternoon, I would know that too.

Chapter 4 — The People Who Choose You in Private

I looked at Callum.

He was stretched out in a teak lounge chair with mirrored sunglasses on, an imported beer sweating in his hand, wearing the same lazy half-smile he used whenever his mother went too far — the smile that asked me, silently, to let it go, to be the bigger person, to not make a thing of it in front of everyone.

He had seen the martini.

He had heard the insult.

He looked at the harbor instead of at me.

There are people who choose you in private and abandon you in public.