"When do you get the next flight?"
"Eph, I'm asking you—when do you get the next flight?" Valentina's voice cut across the cold Reykjavik wind and into the small rectangle of Ephraim's attention.
"Val, I can't," he said, flat. "Not tonight. My board calls tonight. I have to be here."
"Board calls won't stop my surgery," she snapped. "The surgeon wants me home tomorrow morning. I told you that."
"Then reschedule," he said. "You have Levi. You have Benedict. Don't make a scene."
"Reschedule? Eph, I'm not rescheduling chemo because your schedule is full of meetings and cocktails."
"Val, I—" He stopped. The pause was a clean line drawn between them.
"Are you with someone?" Her throat worked. She kept her hand steady on the phone railing.
"No," he answered. "I'm not with anyone."
She heard a faint laugh on the other end, one that wasn't his. She heard background music then a clink of glass.
"Don't worry," he said, and the hang-up came without warning.
She stared at the dead line. The sea below hit black against cliffs. The rental balcony smelled of diesel and last night's ash. She looked at the phone screen.
A new group chat bubble flashed.
"Who is awake in the middle of the ocean?" Valentina said aloud, throat raw.
Landon's name popped first, then Landon in Ephraim's inner circle, then Kaelyn. The preview line read: "Finally off the leash
