31. Thirty-one
When the kids get back, it’s with a cooler full of brook trout.
Derek slings his hip waders over the railing of the porch. “I found a recipe I want to try to cook them, Dad. You mind?”
Ethan’s eyes widen slightly. “You? Cook?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dad. Me. Cook. You aren’t the only one in the family that knows how to make food.”
The frustration that flickers across Ethan’s face is gone as fast as it comes.
“Right. Just let me know if you need help with anything.”
“I can make a salad,” Marin offers.
“Listen, I’m not arguing with anyone to cook,” I announce as I top my glass of wine off. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting here looking at this awful view.”
Ethan’s teeth grind when he sits in the chair next to me and the kids walk inside.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods. “You ever think having kids is a real pain in the ass?”
A laugh bursts out of me. “I do,” I confess. “But it’s a hard time in life, right? Being a teen at the brink of adulthood. There’s so much pressure to decide who you are and what you want to do with your life, but I laugh when I think about it now. I’m forty-one and feel more confused than ever. I don’t know why we think an eighteen-year-old should have a clue. They crave independence but have no idea what that means. Neither did we, yet here we are.”
I pause, staring at the sun that’s dipping low on the horizon.
“I’m pretty sure my kids are going to have nightmares about our time in the Avion for the rest of their lives. None of us know how to do this.”
He laughs dryly, lifting his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
A bird swoops by, and its song is the only sound other than the muffled laughs of the kids inside when it lands on a nearby branch. It’s so peaceful.
“Would you ever leave Maine?” I ask.
“Would you ever leave Key Largo?” he shoots back.
Sitting here staring at all the green, I want to say yes. I want to say I can live in a place like this. But we will both know it’ll be a lie as soon as the words come out. They’ll be the wishful dreams of a perfect day with good company and wine. Everything I know is miles and miles away.
He kicks his bare feet up on the railing. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“I’m horrible at making coffee,” I say instantly. “You?”
His lips tug. “I’m great at making coffee.”
“That’s cheating, tell me something different.”
“I’ve only ever danced with one woman in my restaurant.” His face is toward the sky when he says it.
My heart flat lines, and I look at the same sky as him. “Well, I’ve only ever danced with one man in your restaurant, so it seems we have something in common.”
With that, I zip the ring across my necklace.
***
Dinner is amazing.
Derek, despite the fact he looks like he just got home from Woodstock, is an incredible cook.
We sit around the table—all talking at once and eating food so good I’m sure my taste buds are ruined forever—like it’s something we always do. Always will do.
It’s so easy with the kids, with Ethan, it physically hurts. Like it would be just a little more enjoyable if we hated each other.
When Ethan’s knee brushes against mine under the table, I don’t pull away despite the hopelessness it makes me feel.
We laugh through countless stories. We don’t ask questions about the future. We talk about who we are at this very moment. We get to know each other like it matters. Like we aren’t just passing through town but are going to be permanent fixtures in each other’s lives.
Long after the food is gone and the second bottle of wine is opened, we roll dice and yell at each other in the degradingly playful way that only the closest friends can. It”s a scene as beautiful as an old snapshot—a moment made to be remembered.
When the sky is dark, the only sounds besides our voices are a choir of frogs singing like it’s their last song on earth. A faraway boom roars toward us, followed by blue lights that explode across the sky. The fireworks from the town’s Fourth of July celebration light up the night and dance across the river.
We watch, calling out our favorite ones, until the grand finale, where we all clap.
Austin stands and wriggles his eyebrows challengingly toward the table. “Ping-pong tournament of champions, anyone?”
The kids jump up, tossing insults at each other, and file inside in a bubble of laughter.
Once again, Ethan and I are left alone, this time in the dark.
“Alone again, Nel.” He rests his forearms on the railing as he bends slightly at the waist.
I mirror his position. “It appears so.”
“The boys like you.”
I smile. “I like the boys.”
He turns his head to face mine and our eyes hook. “If you weren’t getting in that time machine sitting in my yard and driving away tomorrow, what would you do about this?” He wiggles a finger between us.
“Umm.” My voice shakes. “I don’t know. I try not to think like that because, you know, those are our circumstances. I am leaving tomorrow, and I do live 1,723 miles away, not that I checked the exact distance from your house to mine.” I laugh softly. “I don’t know what I would do, but I know what I wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t let your lips just brush mine without finding out how it would taste to kiss you or fight wanting to lean my head on your shoulder when you sit next to me. And I wouldn’t shy away from looking at you because the fact it feels like you are looking straight into my soul wouldn’t be such a big deal. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be dreading waking up tomorrow because I wouldn’t be driving away and living the rest of my life not knowing any more about you.”
I turn away and fix my eyes on the dark river as forcefully as I feel his still fixed on me. The silence between us is so thick I could hold it in my hand.
“Well, say something already,” I blurt, forcing myself to look back at him.
He moves his face close to mine, so close I can feel his breath on my skin, shaking me to my core like aftershocks of an earthquake. My eyes drop to his lips, and the realization slams into me that I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me.
I couldn’t summon the nerve to lean in last night, but dammit if I won’t regret it for the rest of my life if it doesn’t happen just once before I leave him.
I lick my lips.
Please move closer. Please. Please. Please.
My mind is chanting the words my mouth isn’t brave enough to say.
He’s close. So close, I smell the wine on his breath as it mixes with his woodsy scent I will forever associate with him, Maine, and summer.
I swallow.
He leans.
Close.
Closer.
My breath stops.
A ring slices through the air.
Once.
Twice.
My phone.
The moment is cut in half.
I close my eyes and pull it out of my back pocket. Poppy’s name flashes across the screen.
I look at Ethan desperately. “I’m so sorry.” Then I answer with a breathless, “Mom? Hey!”
“Penelope! I haven’t heard from you. How was your date?”
Her voice blares through the speaker loud enough for Ethan to hear.
I wince at her jarring loudness.
“Mom, it was fine. Can I call you back tomorrow or something?”
She ignores me. “Did you get naked like I suggested?”
“Mom! No!” I hiss. “And can we plea—”
“You know, Penelope, as your mother, I should tell you if you don’t keep using all the parts of your body, they will not be happy with you. The fewer orgasms you have, the harder it is to have them.”
Ethan laughs next to me into his wine glass, and I want to die. Again.
“Mom!”
“I’m serious, your dad isn’t here. This is just girl talk. When was the last time you experienced the gift of your feminine pleasure? It’s a natural part of life to have those needs.”
My pulse pounds in my temples. I’m going to kill her. Slowly.
Ethan chokes on his next sip.
I haven’t had an orgasm since Travis died, but I’m not having that conversation with my mother. Sadness doesn’t exactly set the tone for me to tap into the gift of my feminine pleasure.
“Mom. Stop,” I demand. “I cannot have this conversation with you right now. I love you, tell Dad happy Fourth. I’ll call you when I’ve mentally recovered from this in three years.”
She’s still talking when I hang up and my entire body burns in embarrassment.
“I’m going to go check on the kids and pretend that didn’t just happen.”
I don’t wait for him to respond before sliding the door open and disappearing inside.