Chapter Three
Addison arrived at the Fire Island ferry terminal wearing a sundress, chunky heels, and a lost expression. The entire scene was unfamiliar to her. For starters, she was dressed for a summer soiree while everyone else looked like they were going to a clambake. She quickly realized that most of the contents of her four pieces of luggage, aside from bathing suits, tanks, and cutoffs, would remain unworn. She studied the crowd: families pushing strollers and carts overflowing with beach toys and baby gear; rowdy twentysomethings with cases of Pbr and White Claw, and the obvious homeowners—holding little more than a paperback, a cup of clam chowder, and their dog’s leash. There were a lot of dogs.
It was only the second week in July, but from the look of the homeowners—tanned, toned, and tranquil—you’d think it was already mid-August. As Addison surveyed the crowd, she flashed back to the lunchroom in middle school, at a loss as to where she would fit in. She chewed on the side of her thumbnail, a habit she had only recently taken up, wondered if the inner spark she had carried around since birth would ever return, and began chewing on the other thumb. So much of who she’d been as an adult had been tied to her job, and now, without it, she felt at sea.
As blissed out as those sun-kissed locals looked, becoming one was not currently a part of Addison’s plan. She was excited to meet the real estate agent on the other side of the Great South Bay and ask her what she could get for her aunt’s house. A quick Google search revealed that it was quite a lot.
While most millennial procrastinators entertain themselves by scrolling through memes of baby hippos and of raccoons stealing tacos, their New York City counterparts spend a lot of time scrolling through apartment listings way above their means. It was Addison’s favorite form of distraction, and getting this inheritance of the Fire Island house would up her purchasing power significantly. Fulfilling her dream of buying an apartment could keep the dreaded “What next?” question at bay for at least a month or three. Though it may be difficult to pass a co-op board as an unemployed, uncoupled, sparkless woman. Maybe by the time she found a place, the scandal would blow over and someone in the advertising world would take a chance on her again, reigniting the low-burning flame in her belly. Kizzy was already headhunting for her, though she had warned Addison that there wasn’t much action in the current job market—not much happened over the summer.
Addison waited in line for a ferry ticket. The woman who sold it to her was wearing a T-shirt with the words Fire Island, Blissfully Unaware embroidered across her chest. Addison imagined her own version: New York City, Painfully Suspicious. Maybe she could embrace the ferry worker’s version for her stay—heed her friends’ advice and reinvent herself a bit.
“All aboard, Bay Harbor,” the captain barked, causing Addison’s stomach to drop to her feet, nervous to step into the unknown. With four large bags, two hands, and a considerable line forming behind her, she contemplated her options, when a tall stranger offered, “Need a hand?”
She wondered if his words sprang from valor or impatience.
“I got it,” she insisted.
“Are you an octopus?” he asked with a hint of indignation.
Impatience, she decided.
“I am not.” She smiled in return, attempting to soften him. It worked; he reluctantly smiled back. She quickly sized him up: sarcastic tone, hard-to-earn smile. He seemed like the type of guy Addison usually steered clear of. She favored simplicity in a man. The you-get-what-you-see type.
I got this, she thought, but after a quick glance at the restless crowd behind her, she gave up and accepted. With two bags in hand, she followed the tall stranger to the roped-off luggage area on the boat and placed them down, knowing full well she would worry about her belongings the entire ride.
“Thanks again,” she said, and smiled before heading up the stairs. He matched her expression, and she noted the cute dimple that formed at the corner of his mouth and the mischievous twinkle in his eye. She also noted his ringless finger. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
Her friends had encouraged her to dial down her unapproachable, no-nonsense vibe and embrace hot-girl-summer energy. They dubbed her adventure the Summer of Addison, which they insisted must include a summer fling. But Addison was always better at easing into things than jumping off a cliff. When the tall stranger took his grumpy energy to the front of the ferry, she purposefully headed to the back.
Addison slid onto one of the blue metal benches that lined the boat, stared out at the bay, and soon became hypnotized by the whitecaps and the cool breeze running through her hair. She even forgot her troubles, until about twenty minutes later when the island came into view, snapping her out of it. Her stomach churned with excitement, like a bottle of pop at that first turn of the cap. The feeling surprised her. It had been a while since she had embarked on an adventure or thrown herself into uncharted territory. She had stocked up vacation days and lived in the same rental for the past ten years. Never took the time to move. People, especially in her building, had come and gone—getting married, relocating to other cities, fleeing to the suburbs. But Addison had remained where she was.
She thought about her decisions over the years, her broken engagement a decade earlier, new jobs Kizzy had unsuccessfully encouraged her to apply for, the insane amount of time she had wasted at the expense of all else to rise to the top at Silas and Grant. That last bit was the thing that kept her up at night. She knew her life had been unbalanced while it was happening, but she never set out to rectify it. It always felt like a task for another day. Plus, if she had to admit it, she felt much safer throwing herself into work than a romantic relationship with an uncertain future. She had no interest in heartbreak, yet ironically, as it turned out, being fired had cracked her right in two.