Chapter Thirty-Four
Ava
I spent the entire day in a haze, replaying my conversation with Jules over. And over. And over. And then Charlie’s take on things kept interrupting my replays. I knew I’d messed up, but Charlie was right—if one of the girls had done the same, I would’ve given them the go-ahead. And then I would’ve tried my damnedest to not let it come between us.
So far, Jules appeared to be following a similar trajectory, except she was taking some space away to sort through it. Only time would tell how badly I’d messed this up.
The oven beeped, telling me my macarons were done. I paused from whipping together the buttercream filling, pulled them out—delectable little pastel puffs—and put the soufflés in next. Grabbing a spatula, I started lifting them to cool, only to realize my most recent batch of snickerdoodles was still cooling. Apparently I needed more cooling racks.
In the middle of my frantic search for something to use as a stand-in cooling rack for my macarons, Ben pulled into the drive later than usual, near seven-thirty, and I had to do a double take. Then I hurried to help him.
He had a picnic basket in one hand and a gasoline can in the other. This man couldn’t help but over-prepare.
“Did your car run out of gas?” I asked, grabbing the picnic basket and eyeing the gasoline suspiciously.
“No, no,” he hurried. “The car’s fine, but I thought the boat might’ve run out of gas sometime since college.”
I almost dropped the basket. “The boat ?”
“I realize it’s a long shot since, as you mentioned, it hasn’t been used in years, but I figure worst-case scenario we just sit on the boat while it’s docked.”
“You’re going to try to start up my pontoon?” It was such an absolutely foreign idea that I didn’t even know what to do with it.
I hadn’t seriously considered taking it out since my parents passed. At first because it made me cry, and now because I wasn’t sure I still had the skills required to launch it solo.
“Well, I was hoping you’d know how to start it,” he grinned, taking lead and heading into the house. “I didn’t grow up driving boats.”
A shiver of excitement coursed through me, in spite of my low mood the entire day. I used to love boating. I’d take the girls out all summer long and we’d swim and dance and sing so loud that every house on the lake could hear us belting it. My parents and I would have picnics on the boat every Wednesday night. They were the ones who taught me to celebrate the little things—like a regular old weeknight.
“Holy shit!” He took a long look at the countertops covered in baked goods and everything it took to make them. “I hope you own a bakery, because I don’t think anyone could eat all this in less than a month.”
I smiled at him. “I bake when I’m upset sometimes,” I admitted sheepishly. “Please take as much of it as you want. Give it to your mom or your coworkers. Literally anyone.”
“I’m going to be the most popular guy at the office tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my cheek right as the next timer went off for the soufflés. I hurried to pull them out before they collapsed. He followed me, watching with the most hilariously adorable expression as I inspected them.
“Are those soufflés ?” he asked. He sounded like I’d just pulled a unicorn out of my oven.
“You want one?” I went to get a pair of salad plates so we could enjoy them hot. “They can fortify us for this great boat expedition you’ve planned.”
“I would love one, thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in real life.”
I choked on a laugh. “In real life?”
“Well, they’re on baking shows and stuff, but I’ve never actually seen someone make one.”
I handed him the plated chocolate almond soufflé and a fork. “I can teach you to make them. Then you can see them whenever you want.”
He looked at me from hooded lids. “You’ve seen me cook. You really think I could make something this complicated?”
“With practice, I think you could make anything. You just have to be prepared to also mess up a lot of stuff along the way.”
He nodded, closing his eyes in bliss as he took the first bite. “I may take you up on that. This is incredible.” He took another bite, then squinted at me. “Do you serve these at the cafe?”
“Sometimes. They need pretty close watching, so it’s hard to make them while I’m manning the counter.” I made a mental note to add that to the list of things I could do once I hired a clerk.
We talked about our days while finishing the appetizer, then packed up some of the cookies and macarons and headed to the boat. A few stray pangs of guilt and devastation surfaced while we went about our evening, but I managed to keep them from ruining Ben’s Superman-level attempt at cheering me up.
The yard looked terrible. I winced in embarrassment as we made the short walk down the back hill to the pier, noticing for the first time how Mom’s beautiful landscaping was being consumed by some kind of vine that I hoped wasn’t poison ivy. She was probably rolling over in her grave. I really needed to take one of my days off and sort that out.
The pier wasn’t much better, but I did go sit on it occasionally so at least it wasn’t totally overgrown. One of the boards needed replacing, but it could’ve been a lot worse. Ben started unbuttoning the boat cover and I headed for the gas tank and filled it.
Every year when it came time to have the boat stored over the winter, I debated whether I should keep it at all. But I just couldn’t bring myself to part with it. Not only did it belong to my parents, but I refused to live on the lake and not be able to take visitors out on a boat ride. Not that I had many visitors, but it was the principle of the matter.
By some miracle, we did manage to get the engine to turn over and keep running. Ben volunteered to push us off because he didn’t want to be trusted with the captain’s seat, and before I knew it we were chugging along the edge of the lake.
Boat rides were pure magic. There was no other way to describe it. Some people said the lake smelled like seaweed or algae or even just musty. But that made it smell like a basement, and lakes do not smell like basements. The lake smelled like memories. Like every single good day I’d ever had, all wrapped into one nostalgic scent.
It smelled like the promise of all the best days yet to come.
“Man, it’s been a minute since I was on the water,” Ben said from the aqua and white bench seat beside me. “We should do this every day.”
I smiled, reveling in the feel of the chilly evening breeze prickling my skin. “We really should.”
Even ten years later, I still remembered my favorite spots to park the boat and relax.
We stopped along a forested edge, where lily pads formed an emerald carpet that led up to the verdant shore. It was shallow enough that if you watched over the side of the boat, you could see fish swimming below. This deep into summer, it was light until almost ten o’clock, so we had plenty of sunlight to see by as we unpacked our picnic and snuggled up to chow down.
Moments like these only confused me more. It felt so special, sitting with Ben and sharing our dinner and our stories from the day, sharing this beautiful boat ride. I missed having someone to share with. Even when Jules was here and I wasn’t alone anymore, it didn’t feel like this.
I felt the intensity with which Ben spoke, the way he heard everything I said. I felt the connection between us was palpable, like a stirring breeze, and it was just as easy to drift away on it as we sat there on the boat watching the sun set over the distant shore.
But Jules had been my friend for twenty-five years. We’d gone through everything together for most of it, and I still felt a stab of guilt knowing how she’d feel if she saw us out like this. I really didn’t know what to do.
My phone beeped and I looked to find a message from Riley. My stomach lurched harder with every line.
Riley : WHAT DID YOU DO??? Jules is here and she’s in TEARS. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to fix this.
Not knowing what else to do, I laid my head on Ben’s shoulder and did my best not to start crying myself.