The Palm Reader's Secret

The resort pool shimmered like liquid diamond in the Cancun sunset. Elena sat beneath a swaying palm, her woven hat pulled low over her eyes, watching them—all these beautiful, desperate people with their cocktails and their carefully curated Instagram lives.

"You're missing your calling," David said, sliding onto the lounge chair beside her. His martini sloshed precariously. "You should be reading palms by the pool like the old lady in Cabo. 'Cross my palm with silver,' all that shit."

Elena's hand instinctively went to her left palm, tracing the faint scar there—the souvenir from their tenth anniversary party, the night she'd finally learned what he really did for a living. The night she'd chosen to look away.

"I don't do that anymore," she said lightly. "Besides, who'd believe me?"

"Believe what?" His eyes weren't meeting hers. They never did anymore.

"That everyone here is running from something." She gestured at the pool scene—the tech entrepreneur whose startup was collapsing, the actress whose marriage was imploding, the senator with bloodshot eyes and a trembling hand. "I could make a fortune telling them what they already know."

David laughed, but there was an edge to it. "You always did see too much. That's your problem, El. You never knew when to leave well enough alone."

The bartender announced last call. A woman in a red dress stumbled near the pool's edge, sobbing into her phone. David's phone buzzed—his third emergency in an hour.

"Duty calls," he said, standing up. "Try to enjoy yourself, alright? We're supposed to be celebrating."

"Celebrating what, David?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

He paused, his back to her. Then he turned, and for the first time all weekend, he looked at her really looked at her. "What do you see? When you look at my palm?"

She took his hand. "I see money," she said. "I see power. I see a man who's forgotten what he wanted it all for."

"And you?" His voice cracked. "What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Elena touched the brim of her hat. "I see a woman who's very good at looking away."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he set his drink on the table and walked toward the pool, stripping off his watch as he went. He dove in fully clothed, surfacing with a roar of exhilaration.

Elena watched him. Then she took off her hat, letting the Cancun breeze touch her face for the first time in three years. She stood up, walked to the pool's edge, and stepped into the water, shoes and all. The night was just beginning.