Chapter Eight #2
She nodded and told me she worked in the NICU, but she was taking some time off before starting her new job at another New York hospital. “Otherwise I never would’ve been able to take off three weeks for this trip!”
We laughed, but before I could circle back to her tour guide days, someone whistled. “Attention, Camp Carmichael!” Nick called. “I’d like to say a few words…”
“Updating us on Lord Stanley’s status, I hope!” Jay called back. “Are you having the Cup brought here?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor’s spine straighten with excitement.
He’d been comfortably on the periphery all night, seemingly at ease with the fact that this wasn’t his family.
“He’s a huge Rangers fan,” Charlie had told me earlier.
“You should’ve seen his face when Nick got here yesterday… ”
Nick chuckled. “Sorry, Dad. I don’t get the Cup until August. It’s with our captain in Toronto now.
” He looked at his grandparents; Peggy was stealing pie from Topper’s plate.
It reminded me of whenever Erica passed on dessert but then always helped herself to my dad’s hot fudge sundae.
“I just wanted to thank Nana and Granddad for not only being an epic couple, but also for hosting us the next few weeks.” He smiled, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.
“Even with some of us missing, I think everyone will agree when I say that it’s been way too long since we’ve been all together! ”
The deck erupted in whoops, whistles, and cheers. I started biting my pinkie nail, but stopped when my dad caught my eye and winked.
“And as much as we love and adore one another,” Nick continued. “It might also be fun—maybe even healthy—to add some friendly competition—”
“Oh my god, Nick,” Beth groaned. “We are not playing Assassin.”
Nick arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Assassin, Aunt Beth?”
“Nothing,” Charlie piped up from nearby.
He was squashed in an Adirondack chair with Luke and clearly biting back a laugh.
“Except for the fact that you need to accept that you’re not meant to be one.
” He gestured across the moonlit Oyster Pond.
“They’re never going to ask you to guest star; it’s their game. ”
“That’s exactly why we should play!” Nick countered.
“What and who are they talking about?” I asked Sage as the Carmichaels collectively shook their heads. “What’s Assassin?”
“One of Nick’s biggest dreams.” Sage sighed. “Although I fear it will forever go unrealized.”
Jay whistled when his sons started bickering. “Rein it in, knuckleheads!”
“Sweetie, it’s really just not our cup of tea,” Peggy told Nick, then squeezed his arm affectionately before turning to everyone else and smiling. “But I promise this trip will be full of fun family…”
Not part of your family, I couldn’t help but think.
“…game nights, ones we all know and love!”
“Like Life?” Bryce asked, so excitedly that I caught my dad and Erica exchange a bemused look. None of us could understand why my brother was so obsessed with Life.
“Try glow-in-the-dark volleyball, Bryce,” Jay said. “Or was it dodgeball?”
“Oof.” Luke shook his head. “I preferred the pie fight.”
“A pie fight?” Maisie gasped. “Actual pies in the face?”
“Coconut cream.” Peggy beamed at the same time Erica said, “Mom, would it be okay if—”
“Absolutely not,” Beth cut her off. “You can’t vlog our vacation!”
Erica’s smile slipped. Her family had capital-T Thoughts about her influencer career. Beth, for example, believed it was an invasion of privacy.
“Showing off your summer wardrobe while sipping one of Dad’s golden hour cocktails is one thing,” she continued, “but we don’t need videos of us playing charades going viral…”
“Must be one hell of a game of charades,” Charlie whispered to Luke, and they snickered as I rose from my spot on the couch.
“I’m running to the bathroom,” I told Sage, but instead ran into Connor in the kitchen. He was refilling his glass of water. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said, “but is there maybe a little too much personality under this roof?”
“Oh, come on,” he said, eyes shining. I still felt like I knew them from somewhere, but maybe not. “Quirky families are the best.”
Yes, I thought, slowly and suddenly unsurprised. No one offered to spend a summer with someone else’s family if they weren’t going to embrace it. Aren’t they?
* * *
My dad might’ve trusted me, but he low-key interviewed Connor after things had broken up, and I couldn’t help but subtly eavesdrop as Sage told me about this week’s Fourth of July party.
Because Connor McCallister talked nonstop.
No matter the conversation topic—family, sports, music, movies—he had something to say.
I didn’t catch where he was from, but he had a fourteen-year-old brother, rooted for New York teams, unabashedly loved Coldplay, and thought the Marvel universe was getting out of control.
“I graduated a few weeks ago,” he said when Erica asked about school.
“I’m playing lacrosse at Notre Dame next year. ”
There it is, I thought. Connor looked like an athlete, but I hadn’t been able to pinpoint his sport.
“He’s a good kid,” my dad said before hugging me good night, as if I’d introduced Connor as my prom date rather than a reluctant bunkmate. “I like him a lot.”
“He’s also not your type,” Erica whispered, which annoyed me…even though she was right. I always went for…well, anyone but the nice-guy athlete.
Getting ready for bed later was awkward.
There was no other way to say it. After fluffing up Swede’s dog bed, I went to the bathroom to change into my pajamas.
A pink-and-white sleep set that my dad called my “Eloise pj’s.
” I braided my hair before brushing my teeth.
It turned out Connor and I had identical electric toothbrushes.
“Is everything okay in there?” Connor asked once I’d moved on to moisturizing.
“Yeah!” I replied, busy rubbing in lavender lotion. “Why?”
He didn’t respond, and the silence made me realize that it was getting late and he hadn’t had a chance at the bathroom yet.
Oops.
At home, I shared a bathroom with the twins, but we rarely used it at the same time.
I tried not to blush when I stepped back into the bunk room. Swede was settled in his bed, and Connor was texting on the bottom bunk…wearing only a pair of striped boxers.
“All yours!” I chirped, to overcompensate for the swirl of heat on the back of my neck. No plaid pajama pants? Not even a T-shirt?
“Thanks.” Connor looked up from his phone and smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“It’s okay.” I shook my head before giving Swede some snuggles. Then I climbed the bunk’s built-in ladder up to my bunk. The mattress could’ve been softer, but the cool covers felt luxurious against my skin. Smiling to myself, I switched off my light and settled into my pillows.
Suddenly exhausted.
I heard Connor pee and the toilet flush, the sink basin splashing with water as he washed his hands, and when he got into bed, his sleepy sigh was louder than mine. I also heard—and felt—Swede tense up in the corner.
No, I thought. Please, no. No, no, no—
“Oh, hello,” Connor said from the bottom bunk. He sounded amused, but I doubted he actually was. “Buddy, I’m flattered…”
“We can switch bunks.” I gritted my teeth and pushed back my coverlet. Below, Swede was trying to claim space next to Connor. “I’m sorry. I should’ve taken the bottom. I knew he was going to do this. Every night he starts in his own bed but winds up with me like clockwork.”
Connor laughed. It was muffled, probably by Swede’s fur. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m all good down here.”
I winced. He was so nice.
“Okay, you may be comfortable now, but when you wake up at three a.m.—”
“He’ll be a living furnace taking up most of the bed,” Connor finished for me. “Trust me, I know, and it’s fine. My best friend has two huge dogs, and I’ve shared the couch with them a thousand times over the years.”
“What are their names?” my inner dog person asked.
“Arthur and Francine.”
“Oh, cute,” I said, then bit my pinkie nail. “If it doesn’t work out, you get the top tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he agreed, and from there, all three of us shifted until we were comfortable. My spine straightened at Connor’s sharp inhale. Swede had kicked him in the stomach.
But he didn’t say anything until all was quiet. “Olivia?”
“Yeah?” I just barely asked, my eyelids drifting shut.
I heard him swallow hard. “You don’t remember me, do you?”