One Fifth Avenue

“I know. But I’ve been such a downer. I don’t want to ruin your vacation as well.”

“Where were you?” Philip said.

“In a cave.”

“A cave?” he exclaimed.

“I found a little cave. In the rocks down by the water.”

“You’ve been in a cave for the past three hours?” he repeated.

She nodded. “I needed a place to think. And I realized, no matter what happens, I love you. I always will. I can’t help myself.”

Philip felt protective. She was so young. And innocent. He could shape her. What was wrong with him? He pulled her to him. She made love vigorously, sucking his cock while teasing his asshole with her finger. He exploded, gasping with pleasure. How could he give this up?

For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to move in with him that night. But during dinner, Lola was nearly back to her old self, texting through dinner and flirting with the waiter and rubbing Philip’s foot with her toe. She didn’t bring up their relationship, her disappearance that afternoon, or her parents’ financial woes, and neither did he.

But the next morning, when he woke up, he found her packing. “What are you doing?” he said.

“Oh, Philip.” She sighed. “One of the things I realized in the cave is that I love you too much to go on like this. If we’re not going to be together, there’s no point in falling more in love with you and being hurt worse in the end. So I’m going to go. My mother needs me, and I’m not sure you do.”

She was right, he realized. He couldn’t go on like this, either. She bent over to rifle through her suitcase and he remembered the sex they’d had the night before. “Lola,” he said. “You don’t have to go.”

“Oh, but I do, Philip,” she said, not looking up.

“I mean”—he hesitated—“you can move in with me. If you want to,” he added, as if it weren’t his decision.

Now, on the beach, Philip leaned back in his lounge chair, folding his arms under his head. Of course she’d said yes. She loved him.

His reverie was broken by the chirrup of his cell phone. It was a 212 number, probably Enid calling him to wish him a happy New Year. He felt a momentary dismay. He would have to tell Enid that Lola was moving in. Enid wouldn’t like it.

“Hello?”

The caller was a welcome surprise. “Schoolboy,” Schiffer exclaimed. “How are you? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up. “I thought you were in Saint Barths.”

“Couldn’t do it,” she said. “I thought about it and changed my mind. Why pursue a relationship with a man I’m not in love with? I don’t need the guy, do I?”

“I don’t know,” Philip said. “I thought…”

She laughed. “You didn’t think I was serious about Brumminger?”

“Why not?” Philip said. “Everyone says he’s a great guy.”

“Get real, Oakland,” she said. Changing the subject, she asked, “Where are you, anyway? If you’re around, I thought maybe we could get together with Enid. I’ve been neglecting her.”

Philip swallowed. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why?” she said. “Where are you? I can hardly hear you. Speak up, schoolboy, if you want to be heard.”

“I’m in Mustique,” he said.

“What?”

“Mustique,” he shouted.

“What the hell are you doing there??