ocean Jude hadn’t sailed anywhere close to aboard the Aphrodite. “They sent the last postcard to Trevor on the 16th from here.” He then pointed to another pushpin, not all that distant. “This is where the wreckage washed up.”
Marc translated the email. “It says the storm surge waters only rose high enough to wash them that far inland on the 18th.”
Jude held onto his sister winded by hope he could barely breathe through, knees weak as what Marc and Rob had discovered sunk in.
“A two-day window,” Lou said, just as breathless. “That’s what Trevor needed to pinpoint their location.”
After months of searching alone, hope now steered them all together in a brand new direction.
33
Carrying on like normal was impossible while buzzing with new purpose, the urge to drop everything so close to the surface of Jude’s skin that he could almost see it. He was thankful all over again for Rob’s forward-thinking at lunchtime, the restaurant filled with paying clients instead of village locals, all with big-city expectations. “Thanks,” he murmured as he put Rob’s prep to good use, hands moving independently of his mind, which had a different focus.
“No problem,” Rob said, finishing each plate with a five-star flourish, concentrating so hard that he didn’t notice Jude’s staring.
This man, who now dotted sauce and spooned delicate foam onto Carl’s catch as if nothing else in the world mattered had propped open a window of hope that Jude had only dreamed of. He’d looked at that picture of wreckage and seen more than Jude or Lou had, then he’d found the one person who could translate French when they needed.
Would Marc have spared Jude the time if Rob hadn’t nurtured the spark between him and Lou?
Maybe not, he had to admit; Jude hadn’t earned it.
Making up with Marc wouldn’t have even been on his agenda before Rob had stuck his nose in. Now, only a few months later, Marc set aside his own work to wait tables for them. Jude backed into the kitchen with empty dishes, and made sure to tell him he was thankful.
“It’s nothing,” Marc said, distracted, checking the ticket for his next table.
“I mean, thanks for everything, Marc. For helping today. For phoning that university for us. For translating. For….” Behind Jude, a timer pinged, Rob already there to turn bass fillets just when their skin reached crisped perfection.
“It’s no problem,” Marc said again, but his smile was so much warmer. He balanced full plates on his forearms like Jude’s mum had taught him back when Jude had done so much to avoid him, and his wink caught Jude off-guard. “Besides, serving meals makes a change from painting your sister with her kit off.”
Rob’s hoot of laughter wasn’t even annoying. “You asked for that,” he said as the door closed behind Marc. He pulled a ticket towards him, reading with the kind of wholehearted concentration his dad would be amazed at, then he noticed Jude’s expression. “What?”
Jude said what had lurked on the tip of his tongue all morning, chilling him to the core, Rob the one person he could be honest with without hurting. “You know they probably are dea—.”
Rob set down his spoon before Jude could finish and pulled him into an embrace, his cheek hot from the stove, his kiss just as warming. “The jury’s still out on that, isn’t it? Hmm?” He let go and pulled the next ticket from its clip as though it was business as normal, not potentially so close to the end of a months’ long nightmare. “Let’s stick to the plan. Trevor is coming this afternoon with his laptop, and we’re going to listen to his advice, and then make a decision. It doesn’t matter that the timing is shit for you leaving again if that seems like a viable option.” He wasn’t wrong—they truly were booked solid. “And it doesn’t matter if we can’t get anyone official to agree to resume the search. You were always going to look for them at the end of the summer, anyway, weren’t you?” His gaze was frank, accepting, softening as Jude nodded. “Just like I was going to go back to London once I’d proven my point. Plans can change, Jude.”
“But—”
“No buts. We’ll make it work if that’s what needs to happen,” he said, decided as if Jude leaving right at the start of the vital summer season could ever be that easy.
“But the bills….” Lou’s spreadsheets still had so many more red entries than black ones. “The flights