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did.”
    Thea knew her mother was right, but she couldn’t get the image of Eric with his head buried between the bimbo’s thighs out of her head. “I trusted him, Mama.” Her voice broke. “I thought he liked me the way I am.”
    The hurtful words Eric had flung at her continued to cut like razors. You’re a ball-busting bitch who should’ve been born with a penis! I needed a real woman to fuck—at least she isn’t hell-bent on emasculating me!
    Rising when Thea started to sob in earnest, the first time she’d truly cried since it all happened, Lily came around the table to hug her against her body. Thea turned, wrapped her arms around her mother’s petite form. Unlike Thea, Lily was barely over five feet tall. As a teenager, Thea had hated her height and features because they made it obvious she wasn’t her papa’s biological daughter.
    Soon as he’d realized the reason for her morose mood, her father, Wayan, had sat her down and told her that nothing could ever change the fact she was his eldest daughter, his small shadow who loved to go fishing with him and who’d made his heart burst when she called him Papa for the first time as a two-and-a-half-year-old.
    Thea had never again questioned his love and their relationship was one of the most powerful bonds of her life. Her relationship with her younger sisters was as strong. The two were only teenagers, Lily and Wayan having waited to extend their family. Thea adored the giggling flirts and was so happy that they, as well as her parents, got along with Molly and vice versa; Molly hadn’t been to Bali yet, but the six of them had all chatted over video calls.
    Lily pressed a kiss to the top of Thea’s head when she finally drew back after crying out all the tears she’d been holding inside for months and months. It felt as if a great big obstruction was gone from inside her chest, the air cleaner, sweeter, the world brighter.
    “Write to your man,” Lily said after using the bottom of her T-shirt to wipe away the remnants of Thea’s tears, much as she’d done when Thea was a child. “I’ll bring you ginger tea to ease your throat and cake to ease your heart.”
    Thea drank the tea, ate the lusciously rich vanilla cake that sandwiched an equally decadent chocolate layer, then read her memo over again and hit Send.
    D avid was sitting on the beach, trying to work on a difficult combination of guitar chords in an effort to keep his mind off the fact that Thea hadn’t replied to his memo, when his phone buzzed. The stubborn hope in his heart gave a nervous jump. Telling himself it was probably just one of the guys, he took it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen.
    Thea.
    Blood a roar in his ears, he set aside the acoustic guitar he’d borrowed from Noah and pulled up the message. It was empty, with three attachments: one was text, the other two images. He took a deep breath of the salt-laced air and clicked on the text attachment, gritting his teeth as it loaded. It seemed to take forever, wave after wave rolling in to shore in front of him, leaving sea foam that popped and faded away into nothing under the cool afternoon light.
    Then there it was, a return memo.
     
    Reasons Why Your Reasoning Is Flawed
     
    Introduction: In which I, Thea Arsana, explain the flaws in your argument, per your memo titled Reasons Why You Should Give Us a Shot .
    Re your first point: Schoolboy Choir is my client. I’m not about to hand the band off to anyone. I certainly don’t need my business partner or our associates to look over my work. I am brilliant at what I do and I can separate my personal life from my professional.
    That professional life has brought me into contact with any number of musicians. You must agree that those in your field do not make for excellent long-term relationship material. In evidence, I attach photos of one of your peers caught with his pants down with a woman not his wife. I believe you are friends with said peer and have been known