Paradise Lost (Private 9)

A bell tinkled near the doorway to the dining room, and a butler in a tuxedo stepped inside. "Ladies and gentlemen! Dinner is served!" he announced in a British accent.

Upton smiled and took my hand. "Enough of this negative stuff. I hope you're ready to gorge yourself."

"Are you kidding? It smells so good in here, my stomach's been grumbling all night."

Dinner was spectacular. We all sat at one very long table set with white-and-gold china and crystal glasses. All the linens were deep red and forest green and the lights were dimmed so that the candles in the gold candelabra cast a cozy glow over everything. Upton must have informed his mother about the rift in the group, because everyone was seated next to someone they could talk to: Paige and Daniel with Sienna; West, Gage, Graham,

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and Sawyer and their families on one side of the table; me next to Upton with Noelle on the other side, along with Kiran, Taylor, Tiffany, Amberly, Dash, and their families. Sawyer, who was directly across from me, barely ate a thing and spent the entire three-hour-long meal staring into his lap as the conversation and laughter flowed around him. I was pretty sure he was reading a book down there. I got that the guy was not a social being. But what about eating? How could he ignore five courses complete with squash soup and endive salad with pears and roasted duck and honeyed ham and berry trifle? Was he on some kind of Christmas fast?

By the time Mr. Giles suggested we all move back to the living room, my stomach was so full I felt as if I might never be able to walk again. Sawyer got up, though, and I told myself to follow. I felt badly for the guy. No one had talked to him all night. Maybe my Christmas good deed would be to give him someone to chat with for awhile.

"Hey," I said, sidling up next to Sawyer as he grabbed a hard-backed, uncomfortable-looking chair from the corner of the living room. He had just produced a book from under his waffle-knit black sweater. Short Cuts by Raymond Carver. "What else are you hiding in there?"

Sawyer looked up at me, his brow knit. "Nothing."

A blush lit my face. "I know. I was kidding."

"I know," he replied. He sat back in the chair, which creaked as he moved, and opened the book. I felt a shiver of rejection move up

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my spine and glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. No one was.

"I was just thinking I might see if some people want to go outside and hang for a while. I think it's warmer out there than in here," I said, not willing to give up yet. "Do you want to come? "

"No thanks," he replied, not looking up from his book.

"But I-"

"I kind of want to read now," Sawyer said flatly, tugging on the hair just above his ear.

My face stung. Didn't he see I was just trying to be nice? I was about to say something to that effect when Upton's hand slid into mine.

"I have a surprise for you," he whispered in my ear. Then he looked down at Sawyer, who was still tugging and reading, his jaw set in a very off-putting way. "That is, if you're done here."

"Oh, we're done," I replied. We left Sawyer behind and crossed the room together. I tried to let my irritation go. Sawyer could do what he wanted, of course. But it was Christmas Eve. I thought it might be nice to see the guy smile just once. I glanced back at him to find him glowering down at his book.

Not your responsibility, Reed. Move on.

"What kind of surprise?" I asked Upton, taking a deep breath and letting out my frustration with it.

"A Christmas gift," Upton said, pausing near a set of glass double doors covered by curtains on the inside.

I gulped, my heart filling with instant panic. I hadn't brought

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him anything. It hadn't even occurred to me to bring him anything. Besides, what kind of gift would I have been able to afford on the island anyway? Some birdseed from the Ryans' backyard?

"You can wipe the terrified look off your face. I'm not expecting anything in return," he said with a Cheshire-cat grin. "I just had the perfect idea for a gift, and it's so rare that I come up with something like this, so I just couldn't let the opportunity pass me by."

Great. So not only a gift, but a perfect gift. Kill me now.

He opened one of the doors slightly, looked around to make sure everyone was otherwise occupied, and then slipped through, tugging me with him. We now were inside a library with huge picture windows overlooking the beach.

"Whatever it is, I don't deserve it," I said. "I feel like such an idiot."