Chapter 15 Henry
Henry
I slip into the pool because the eye contact suddenly feels too intense.
My memories of Piper from three years ago are wholesome.
Her blond curls. Her freckles. How she talked about loggerheads like she’d been studying sea turtles all her life.
Her sarcasm made me laugh. Our kiss was transcendent.
But mostly we floundered our way through the night.
She joked almost constantly, and I talked way too much, but being with her was easy because—for me, at least—expectations were nonexistent.
Fate’s laughing in my face now. I like her dark curls even better, she’s still wryly funny, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to kiss her again.
I duck under the water, cooling my sunburned face, trying to pinpoint what I said to make our conversation go sideways. Because her expression went gloomy for a minute, and I don’t want to be the sort of guy who makes her sad.
I bitched about my dad.
She suggested I appreciate how good I’ve got it.
I resurface, shaking the water out of my eyes, and kick to where she’s sitting. “You coming in?”
I pretend not to watch while she peels off her tank and steps out of her shorts.
She moves down the deck to where the water’s deeper, then launches into a dive that’s a hell of a lot more graceful than her entry the other night.
She swims toward me, hair flowing behind her.
When she surfaces, she looks like a real-life mermaid.
“Thank you for coming to sit with me earlier,” she says. “At the restaurant.”
“I knew you had fried food on the way.”
She smiles. “You did crush my coconut shrimp.”
“Yeah, happy to be of service.”
“Whatever the reason, it was nice to have company.”
I push my hands through my wet hair. I like joking with her—she seems to welcome levity—but I have to ask: “What was going on with those guys?”
“Nothing. It’s inconsequential.”
Didn’t seem inconsequential. She kept her cool, but there was frustration in the set of her shoulders, embarrassment in the flush that scaled her neck. Pushing her to explain seems like undercutting her agency, though. I refuse to be anything like that dick at Blitz Brews.
I try for a different kind of backstory. “What about your family? Do I get to hear about them?”
“Probably not.”
“I told you about my whackadoodle dad.”
A corner of her mouth lifts. “Whackadoodle?”
I nod. “An adjective I borrowed from my mom. It means downright batshit, but amusingly so. You can find it in the dictionary alongside a picture of Davis Walker.”
She laughs, leaning back to dip her hair into the water, smoothing it as she straightens again. She’s taken out the pearl earrings she was wearing the other night, but the trail of hoops remains.
“You want to hear about my family, Henry Walker?” She gazes up at the dark sky, like she’s deciding whether I’ve earned the right.
She must decide I have, because she says, “I’ve lived with my older sister since I was ten.
That’s when my mom and dad died—a drunk driver blew through a stop sign and smashed into their car while they were visiting Tampa. ”
“Holy shit, Piper. God, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs, water rippling around her shoulders. Mine must be a platitude she’s heard a thousand times.
“Tati became my legal guardian. She quit the interior design job she’d just gotten in Boston and moved back to Sugar Bay, a town she spent her adolescence itching to leave. She’s been playing reluctant pseudo-parent ever since.”
I ought to be punched in the nuts for disparaging my dad’s efforts the way I did.
“Jesus—I can’t even imagine.”
“It was a long time ago. I mean, it absolutely sucks, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
Is it possible to come to terms with a loss that huge?
What happened with Whitney cut me deep. It still hurts when I let myself think about it for longer than two seconds.
But both my parents, gone forever? It’s incomprehensible.
I want to ask Piper how she carries on because sometimes, when I get caught up in my head, it’s a struggle to keep my shit together.
Instead, I ask, “What’s your sister like?”
“Tati’s…a force.”
“I’m imagining a tornado.”
She winces. “Or a hurricane, yeah.”
“Is she mean to you?”
She cups a hand and sends a playful splash of water into my face.
“Not like you’re thinking. She’s just on my case all the time.
About everything. You saw her the other night, waving me upstairs like I’ll end up a convict if I stay out past midnight.
And before you try to defend her, I know.
She’s trying to fill the role of two parents.
She wants me to be safe. She loves me. All true.
The problem is, aside from her job and a couple of high school friends who live in Pensacola now, she’s got nothing going on.
She has nowhere to funnel all her type A tenacity. So she rides my ass. Constantly.”
A light bulb flickers on in my head. Piper’s sister tries too hard. My dad tries too hard. They’re each overly focused on the teenager in their life, but if they had somewhere else to direct that energy, someone to run interference…
What if Dad and Piper’s sister—Tati—meet? What if they have stuff in common, other than the fact that they’re both responsible for a seventeen-year-old they don’t understand? What if Dad likes Tati, and Tati likes Dad?
They’ll start hanging out. They’ll keep each other busy. They’ll make each other happy.
And then I might get to go on a run or read or study for the SATs without Dad yammering about how it’s called summer break for a reason. Piper would make out well too—she’d get a reprieve from Hurricane Tati.
“How old’s your sister?” I ask.
“Thirty-two. Why? Trying to find yourself a sugar mama?”
“Ha ha,” I deadpan. “She’s single?”
Piper nods. “Newly.”
“My dad’s thirty-six. Also single.”
Her eyes flash with understanding. “Wait—are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
“Maybe.” I smile conspiratorially.
She considers, twisting a curl around her finger. “A setup… I’m not opposed. Not yet, anyway. What does your dad look like? Because Tati’s hot.”
If Piper and her sister resemble each other at all, then yeah, that’s likely true. Good thing Dad’s not a troll. In the last few days, I’ve noticed plenty of women giving him a second look. I bet he and Tati are playing in the same league.
“He looks kind of like me,” I say. “But, you know…old.”
Piper laughs, angling her head to study my face. “So, not hideous.”
“Definitely not hideous.”
“What’s he like? Other than the golf thing.”
“He’s into having fun. Likes to go out. Likes to meet new people. Extroverted.” Piper’s mouth is sinking into a frown. Her sister’s not super social, then. I reroute. “But he’s smart too. And driven. He owns a successful business.”
“So I’ve seen. Tati’s been to your dad’s restaurant, actually; her glowing review was why I went in earlier. But no one’s ever accused her of being a party animal. Other than sporadic dates and an occasional girls’ night with friends she’s had since grade school, she rarely goes out.”
“That’s not a bad thing, necessarily. They might balance each other.”
She nods, but haughtily, like I’m in for a surprise where her sister’s concerned. Still, she asks, “What’s your plan?”
“I guess we need to figure out a way for them to meet.”
“It has to seem organic, though. Tati will be pissed if she realizes I’m meddling.”
“For sure. Totally organic. What if they actually hit it off?”
She smiles, mirroring my enthusiasm. “What if they have a romance?”
“They’ll be busy. Dating. Courting. Whatever people in their thirties call it. Then they’ll stop caring so much about what you and I are up to.”
“Henry, I think you’re on to something.”
“I think we’re on to something.”
She twirls, laughing, sending a fountain of water droplets into the air.
I grin. If Tati’s a hurricane, then Piper’s a sun-shower, bright and rejuvenating. I feel pretty damn lucky to bear witness.