“That might just be the shadows.” Nick gestured at the branches overhead; she obligingly studied the web of oak and moss she saw every day. He sat at the pool’s edge, disturbing its surface with small kicks, and stared downward. She felt like an intruder. Only since her father left had she realized how much she didn’t know—how arrogant she’d been to believe she alone had a chambered self. An inner life. When Nick slid all the way in and under, she picked up her books.