Chapter 30
We find ourselves making lists.
There is a packing list of clothes.
A list of songs for the car.
A list of supplies for the house.
A list for the pool.
There is a list of snacks, of meals, of restaurants to go to, of bars to try to use my fake ID at, and a list of memories that Linden wants to make.
“Ready.” She says it like a command. As if she can just will me to be the same.
I spin in a circle, still trying to decide if I need a sweatshirt, and if so, which one.
Linden sighs. “The cream one,” she tells me before starting to go through my clothes. I watch silently as she takes out the sweats and T-shirts I had packed, adding in skirts and shorts and tank tops in their place.
“It’s March. It’s still cold.”
“Not in Florida.”
She throws in a pair of cheap plastic flip-flops and, almost jokingly, the crocheted doll my mother made for me and declares me ready. I don’t even know when that stupid doll appeared again. It’s probably haunted.
I stare at one final thing. My sketchbook. Should I try to bring it? Try to finish? I can only imagine how Max will look at me, at how I’m trying to complete this before we have to swap when we get back from spring break.
Linden notices me staring at it and rolls her eyes as she sets it on top of my things. “You’ll regret it and have to draw on the back of some napkin in the corner when you want to be all emo and withdrawn because people don’t get you.”
I make a face at her in shock because … she’s right, but how dare she just say it out loud like that.
“What?” she asks with a shit-eating grin.
I throw my pillow at her, and she dodges it, laughing.
Linden ties a bit of green yarn around each of our wrists. “From Grandee.” And then she declares packing done.
We take two cars, because Benji invited Damian, and Damian invited Ava. The cars split down the middle, one with Max, Linden, and Carter, and the other with everyone else.
Neither of the options sound decent, but it might be easier to ride with Benji.
I spend the first half of the ride texting with my mother about different things she wants to do to Grandee’s house, before I begin to think that I will die from the amount of angst between Damian and Benji if I stay there one second longer.
When we stop at a gas station, I find Max in front of the chips. “I can’t be in that car anymore.” I try to make sure my voice doesn’t sound pathetic, but I know it does.
“The other car isn’t any better. Linden and Carter have pet names now.”
I make a face, and Max nods.
“Trade me.”
He looks up, and I notice Ava staring at him. “No.”
I groan.
When Max speaks again, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at a bag of chips. He picks them up and turns them over like he’s super curious about the calories. “Just ride in Carter’s car. Say you want to be with your cousin.”
He swallows once and puts the chips back before walking to the counter.
I stand there, staring at the discarded chips, and wonder why it felt like Max just asked me to leave Benji’s car. To be with him. And why I want to. So badly.
But the longer I stand in front of these chips, the longer I think about those reasons. And I know that I shouldn’t do that. Because all reasons lead to Max and all the ways time could reset itself.
But I follow him outside and get into Carter’s car anyway.
Hours later, beautiful gulf coastlines greet us in a blur as we drive past them.
Carter’s uncle’s house is over a long bridge that crosses part of the ocean, on a private island, in a private community, with private access.
It’s the kind of place that looks like it has staff. And a gardener. And a garage filled with more cars than people who live in the house.
The first time I came here, I was sitting in the front seat with Carter. His hand was on mine, and he smiled down at me as we passed through the gates.
“It’s just a house.” He said it like even he realized how ridiculous the words were.
But this time, it’s Linden who turns around in her seat and looks at me. “Bananas, right?” Her grin is wide, and I can see she expects me to react the same way. In awe.
“It’s stunning.”
Linden slides back down into her seat. “Benji calls it the spoils of capitalism.”
The house has the kind of double doors that seem to reach up to the sky. Large, wooden things that are an impractical way to tell people you don’t need doors to be functional, you need them to be a statement.
Inside, on muscle memory, I move toward the left side of the house where the primary suite is.
“Nieve,” I hear Max say. “Our rooms are over here.”
I look around to see if anyone noticed, but Carter and Linden are unpacking groceries and putting them into the expensive-looking Sub-Zero fridge. It wasn’t a big deal. Lots of people make mistakes like that.
I follow Max into a separate part of the house. Up a staircase that shows the wide expanse of the ocean, just outside past the pool.
He stops on the landing at the top. “There are … Uh, there are four bedrooms.”
“Okay.”
“But five of us. Ava and Damian.”
I nod. “Oh. Right. If it gets weird with Ava and Damian, I’ll just offer to share with Ava.”
“All right.”
He walks a little farther down the hallway and disappears behind another door. The room I walk into isn’t as grand as the bedroom I remember sharing with Carter, but it’s beautiful and has a balcony that overlooks the sea.
I’m busy unpacking when I hear a knock on my bathroom door. From the inside.
When I open it, I see Max standing in a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.
“I took the left sink.” He points to his stuff on the counter. A black toiletry bag and his electric toothbrush. It’s all so domestic and normal and …
“Okay.”
Eventually, Max closes the door, and I head downstairs. I’m the only one in the kitchen, and my stomach churns with the memory of the last time I stood here.
“Babe. You do not have to do all this.” Carter leans against the counter, a swim trunk–clad hip resting on the imported marble countertop.
I bite my lip and stare down at the recipe for the hundredth time. “It says I need Madagascar vanilla.”
“I’m sure regular vanilla will do.”
I bite back a groan of annoyance. “Why would they say that if I could just use regular vanilla?”
“Because rich people are weird.”
He does this sometimes, makes comments like he’s not one of them, like he’s just like me. But that’s not how those comments make me feel. They’re like an inside joke I don’t really get but I’m trying to pretend I do.
“Carter, I really want to make this the right way.”
“He’s not gonna notice if you use a different kind of vanilla, Nieve. And you don’t have to do this anyway.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I want Max to like me.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
I frown now. “Why?”
Carter seems to realize what he’s just said and moves toward me. He puts his hands on my forearms and stands directly in front of me. “Babe, Max is an asshole. Give up. He’s a lost cause.”
“He’s your best friend. Why are you friends with an asshole?”
“Because he’s not an asshole to me.” He sighs. “Look, it doesn’t matter if Max likes you. I do. That’s what’s important.”
I roll my eyes but allow Carter to pull me into an embrace.
“And I hate these cookies. You should be making something for me anyway. Not him.”
He had said it like a joke, but now, when I think back on it, I can’t remember if it was or not.
When Benji and Ava and Damian arrive, Ava smiles and says she’ll share with Damian.
Something about the way she says it makes me think she doesn’t plan on spending the evenings with him.
Before starting dinner, we head to the beach.
A private stretch of land with white sands and a dock that juts out over teal seas.
I stick my feet in the ocean, and without speaking, Linden hands me a rock. We both do what we’ve done every time we come to a body of water. We take off one of the loops of yarn around our wrists and tie it around the stone, throwing it in.
“Are you guys witches or something?” Damian asks.
I’m used to stupid comments like this disguised as questions, but they still bother Linden. She gives him a look that says she’s not going to answer him. Now or ever. Damian doesn’t seem to understand the field of land mines he’s stepped in and opens his mouth to say something more.
“We should go for a swim tonight!” Benji interrupts expertly.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not safe,” I tell him.
“I meant in the pool.” He turns toward Max, and something passes between them. “But you don’t have to swim, Nieve,” he adds.
I feel my face heat because I know everyone is remembering when Carter tried to throw me in the pool. And when we jumped in the pond …
Except they don’t remember that.
We head back inside and make the pasta that Linden had brought supplies for. Max makes the garlic bread, Ava and I set the table, Benji chops a million veggies, and Damian sits to the side, not doing anything.
Carter disappears, and when he comes back, he has three bottles of wine.
“My family bought a vineyard two years ago, and there’s always too much of this crap now.”
Heavy-handed, he pours us all full glasses and hands them out. Something about it feels grown-up and sexy. Even though I hate the flavor.
I wish I had a root beer.
We sit down to giant bowls of pasta and veggies and buttery bread piled in the center of a long table on the covered patio, and we watch the sky darken as the sun sets somewhere behind us. The heavens moving from blue to pink to black.
The candles on the table begin to cast a glow across our faces, and I feel … at peace.
Maybe it’s the wine in my belly or so many of my favorite people sitting here safe, but I close my eyes and just listen to the sounds.
Linden laughing at Max. Benji flirting with Damian. Carter explaining something about sharks to Ava. And the quiet of the ocean. The calm of evening. The feeling that one thing is finally right.
Open your eyes, Nieve.
“Is there anything else to go with the pasta?” Damian pushes it around with his fork like he’s inspecting it. He looks up expectantly. “Like a meat?”
Linden, who is mostly vegetarian except for the odd fish now and then, frowns at him. “Nope. I don’t really eat meat.”
“Well, most of us do.” He tries to smile like it’s a joke, but I can see he’s starting to wear on Linden.
“Well, next time, you can make dinner.”
Carter puts his hand on Linden’s shoulder. “Ah, yeah. Next time, let’s do something with meat, okay?”
Linden looks shocked, and I can’t stop staring between them. Why isn’t he defending her? Why isn’t he telling Damian to fuck off? She takes a sip of her wine, a tactic so she doesn’t end up cursing him out.
Carter doesn’t seem to notice how enraged Linden is. Instead, he turns to Benji and asks him if he saw some sports NBA thing. And a sickening thought works its way inside my brain.
Was Carter like this with me?
Did he dismiss my feelings like he did Linden’s just now?
The fact that I can’t outright deny it and I have to think about it is more than a little upsetting.
Max scoots my wineglass toward me. “For medical reasons.” His head inclines toward the glass.
I take a large sip and wince as it makes its way down my chest and into my belly. The burning from the alcohol manages to distract me a bit.
Max lets out a little laugh. “Too much?” He’s smiling at me.
His eyes are on mine. They sparkle in the dim light, and for a second, I feel for him so deeply that I need to catch my breath.
It’s as if we’re sharing a secret. Something that only we understand.
Max stops, and his head tilts just slightly in the most adorable way, as if he’s trying to make out the meaning on my face.
A memory finds me.
I stand at the worktable in the studio. My hands are covered in charcoal dust and the remains of my dream to actually finish this project on time. I’m never going to get this done.
“Babe, please.” Carter pulls out the last word in a pathetic whine that sets my teeth on edge. “Just come with me for a little bit. It’s Sunday. You always come on Sundays.”
“I need to have this done by tomorrow morning.” He knows that. He knows that I can’t just go for a little bit.
Max catches my eye across the table and gives me an understanding look. Almost conspiratorial.
“Hey, let’s make it a guys’ night. You, Benji, and me. We haven’t done that in forever,” Max says.
Carter’s eyes light up.
I shake my head and give Max a smile, because I’m grateful. In this life, and all the others.
When Damian starts going on about the real meaning of art, I start to feel a headache coming on. “I think I’m tired from the drive. I’m gonna head up to bed.”
Linden gives me a jealous look and then adds, “Me, too, actually.”
“Ah, come on,” Benji groans. “Seriously? We just got here.”
“Sorry,” I tell everyone. “My head hurts a bit. I’ll be good as new in the morning.”
Linden looks at Carter.
But he only smiles. “Sounds good.”
I try not to be angry for her, but Carter isn’t a good boyfriend. The thought feels like a betrayal.
Linden’s smile is tight as she says good night to everyone.
As we make our way back to the bedrooms, laughter still coming in from the porch through the open French doors in my room, I’m upset for Linden. But again … I wonder if Carter was like that with me.
I brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on jammies. When I’m tucked in bed and scrolling through my phone, the smell finds me.
Not the food we made earlier or the ocean that stretches on outside my window.
Something that brings back a memory so strong it makes my heart pound inside my chest. A fragrance I haven’t smelled since Carter’s funeral.
Honeysuckle.