Chapter 16 Playlist Summer Anthems
BY THE TIME THE end of July rolls around, I’ve decided that summer without Kat might not be so bad after all.
There are still times when I stumble across a memory with her and it’s like a punch straight to the gut, but I’m no longer obsessed with checking my phone.
Now that I’ve settled into a routine of Pearl’s, trying to convince Gregory to love the ocean, and hanging with Shelby, it’s not quite as depressing. We talk once a week, maybe.
And as far as Kat’s concerned, everything in Kingfisher Cove is exactly as she left it. The one time she asked how it was going working with Myles, I kept it vague, and she quickly pivoted to talk about some tennis club banquet coming up.
Shelby and I have made it a habit to lie out on the beach at least twice a week, and my pale winter skin has been completely replaced with a deep summer glow.
I’ve filled her in on all the local gossip and town lore, including the ongoing feud between Mrs. Porter and Mrs. Potter, competing florists in town, and the loosely held belief that Ula Tomkins didn’t move to Europe—she was abducted by aliens.
The one topic I’ve steered clear of is Kat, and I’m not exactly sure why.
Maybe I like having someone who knows me completely apart from her, like I’m a whole person on my own rather than a piece of the Kat-Amelia combination.
Shelby knows I had a friend who moved at the beginning of the summer, but that’s it.
Gregory always works Wednesday evenings.
(I just happened to notice it on the schedule.
I wasn’t looking on purpose. I wasn’t.) So I’ve popped by the last two Wednesdays after dinner to check on the cats.
Fiona is still friendly and looking a little plumper with regular food, and we’ve made progress with Waffles.
Or, rather, Gregory has. She still doesn’t seem to want to have anything to do with me, but he’s coaxed her close enough to pet her one and a half times.
(We agreed on a half because while he swore he felt fur, I’m skeptical he actually made contact.)
He likes to text me random questions, like am I an organ donor (why/why not) or if I think I could live without electricity for a week.
Twice now I’ve lingered at the store until he got off and we meandered to the beach for an hour or two before he went home.
We’re working on his comfort level with the ocean, and I think he’s almost ready for prime time: swimming.
I learn that he’s decent on a skateboard, had a Goth phase in middle school (didn’t we all?), and if I’m ever driving along First Street in Phoenix, there’s an abandoned building defiled with spray paint by Gregory and his friends.
I still have yet to get my mystery playlist, though, or learn a single song he’s put on it.
He says masterpieces can’t be rushed.
And Myles? We’re having a blast at work, and him greeting me with a hug has become so frequent that if I had to hug ten guys with my eyes closed, I’d be able to tell his body apart from the rest. Shelby told me he asked her to switch a couple of shifts with him, and she’s convinced it was so he could work more with me.
We also text most days and have talked about everything from the old house on the corner of town that we all swear is haunted to our greatest fears (Myles: spiders, and me: heights).
I went to another bonfire party with him, and when leading me to a group of friends, he held my hand for approximately ninety seconds before some drunk kid fell backward and knocked us apart.
I analyzed that minute and a half for a good hour after I got home that night.
My guilt over this comes and goes like the tide, building in between Kat’s and my conversations or when I see something in my room that reminds me of our friendship, only to fade away the second I see his name on my phone screen.
I still don’t know about Anders’s Tweety Bird tattoo, but at this point I’ve decided it’s okay if that remains one of life’s great mysteries.
It’s a Tuesday afternoon at Pearl’s, two weeks before Summerfest, when Gregory walks in. I’m working the lunch shift, and so are Myles and Shelby, and we’re standing together at the hostess stand brainstorming what a group of scorpions should be called because we all think “nest” is too boring.
I smile right away when I see him. “Hey!”
His answering grin is wide and bright. His eyes track to Myles, who is leaning toward me on the wooden podium beside us.
“Hey.” Gregory waves at Shelby, then steps to the side, and that’s when I notice the second person who came in with him.
She’s an older, shorter version of Gregory and has his same dark hair and eyes.
I’m about to introduce myself when Myles speaks up.
“Welcome,” he says. “Have a seat wherever you like, and I’ll be with you in just a second.”
Gregory swings his gaze back to me. “Actually, I was hoping Amelia could serve us.”
Myles lifts a brow. He looks at me, and I just smile back, but it feels like all teeth. Technically it’s his turn, but he shrugs. “Sure.”
Shelby jabs an elbow into my ribs.
I try my best to ignore the energy between Myles and Gregory and focus on who I assume is Gregory’s mom. “Come with me. I think the table with the best view just opened up.”
Once they slide into the booth, Gregory gestures across the table. “Amelia, this is my mom. Mom, this is Amelia.”
His mom smiles warmly and says, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”
I dart a look at Gregory. He rolls his eyes as if she’s just trying to embarrass him and it’s not working, but his cheeks stain a faint pink. He looks around the restaurant, which isn’t very busy because it’s closing in on two o’clock. “Are you allowed to sit with us for a bit?”
“Definitely in a few minutes,” I say. “I’ve got one other table, but they should be finishing up soon.”
Gregory nods, and his mom says, “You’re working, we understand. But I’d love for you to join us if you can.”
I tell her I’ll do my best and ask what they want to drink. After filling their glasses while they both are busy perusing the menu, I retreat back to where Myles has remained at our lunchtime home base. Shelby’s a few feet away at an empty table, rolling silverware into napkins.
“Who’s that?” he asks.
“Gregory McLoughlin.”
“Right, the new guy. From New Mexico.”
“Oh, um. Arizona.”
Myles is adjusting some papers on the host stand, eyes down, and I can’t read his expression. “You know him well, then?”
“Yeah. My dad hired him at the store, so I met him pretty early in the summer.”
He glances over at the table where Gregory and his mom sit, laughing about something. “I think he has a thing for you.”
“Um, no,” I sputter, laughing a little. “Gregory has a thing for teasing me and for being a pain in my ass occasionally, but that’s about it.”
“I’m telling you,” Myles says, “he does.”
I turn to look at Gregory and his mom, and in that moment Gregory catches my eye from across the room.
He smiles, but it’s a small one. A secret one.
I swallow, wondering who turned up the temperature in here.
I don’t know why, but I try not to smile back at Gregory too widely, since I know Myles is watching.
It feels like I’m denying Gregory something, but that’s ridiculous. Why would he care if I smiled at him?
I clear my throat. “I’d better see if they’re ready to order.”
As I head to their table, I peek over my shoulder. Myles quickly turns away, as if embarrassed to be caught watching me go.
My heart thumps a double rhythm. I try to be cool as I approach their table.
“Have we decided?” I ask.
“I’ll take whatever you think is the best,” Gregory says, leaning back in the booth. His mom’s eyebrows shoot up.
I prop a hand on my hip. “Really? You’ll just let me pick for you?”
“Sure. I trust you.”
His mother’s jaw is now hanging open. “My son, who is the pickiest eater I know, is allowing someone else to choose his meal?”
“Maybe I’m just picky when it comes to your food.”
She gasps.
“Amelia has excellent taste,” he tells her. “You’ll see.”
“It’s true. I do.”
Gregory laughs, and his mom sighs. “Okay, well, let’s see what happens. I’m still ordering the clam chowder, though, because even if my son doesn’t appreciate it, it was my husband’s favorite.”
Gregory’s shoulders fall. “Well, why’d you have to go and say that? Now I feel like an ass for dissing your cooking.”
His mom laughs, and I’m glad. For a second I was worried she might get emotional—which would have been fine, but I’d have been afraid about handling it the right way.
“You should always think twice before insulting your mother,” she says.
“And watch your language.” She turns to me.
“Can you join us yet? If you even want to, after hearing Gregory behave so poorly.”
I put their orders in and take my other table their check.
Then I’m back. Gregory scoots over and pats the leather beside him.
I slide in with a little too much force, and my thigh brushes against his before I scoot back over, putting a few inches between us.
I immediately register his scent, the same one I noticed that night on the beach.
It’s… fresh and outdoorsy, like the sun and pine trees. I want to lean into it.
“So, Amelia,” Gregory’s mom starts, folding her hands together on the table.
Her nails are bright red, and she still wears a wedding ring on her left hand.
Even though a few small wrinkles frame her brown eyes, they’re bright with mirth.
“Tell me what community-service project required you to befriend my son this summer.”
Gregory groans, “Mom!” at the same moment I burst out laughing. I turn to him. “I like her.”
“I don’t,” he grumbles, but the way he glares at her somehow lovingly across the table shows me how close they are. She grins back. “But I do like the music situation going on in here,” Gregory continues. “Mark Ambor and then Weezer? Top-notch.”
“Ah, so you’re a fan of my work,” I say with a grin.
Gregory doesn’t look surprised. “I should have known.”
I spend fifteen minutes with them, which is just enough to pass the time before Shelby brings their food over.
Gregory prompts me to share my most interesting ocean facts with his mom, and for a second I wonder if he’s teasing me, but then I realize they’re both genuinely interested.
Gregory seems almost proud to show off my knowledge, and his mom is delightful and funny, and she and Gregory banter back and forth several times.
It reminds me of how my dad and I can get sometimes, and I wonder what their family was like when they were a party of three.
I leave them to eat, and rejoin Myles by the front door. He took a new table while I was chatting, but he already put in their order and is waiting for the food to come out.
Almost immediately when I lean my hip against the podium, he says, “Hey, you know how you said you miss sailing with Kat?”
I think back, unable to recall when I mentioned this to him but not surprised that I did. I used to love going out on the boat with her and her dad. I loved it so much, I didn’t even mind when Luke, her annoying little brother, came along too.
“Yeah,” I say.
“So, my family doesn’t have a sailboat, but we do have a Boston Whaler. My parents always take it out on Friday mornings, and I was gonna go with them this week as long as the weather’s good. My brother might come too. I don’t think you work that day, so you’d be welcome to join us.”
“Join you?” I repeat to buy myself time to process what Myles is asking me.
“Yeah. We know a lot of great spots to anchor and swim at.”
I can’t keep the excitement off my face. I know we’ve been flirting, and there was that hug and cheek kiss at the beach, but this feels bigger. “Seriously?”
He chuckles. “Of course. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t know I was ‘hang out with your family’ caliber.”
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Obviously. You’re the only one besides my family who knows about my rare but highly sought after skill set.”
“You bring up a good point,” I say with a laugh. “Quick, what’s a group of flamingos called?”
Myles grins. “Flamboyance.”
I suck in a dramatic breath. “That’s my new favorite.”
He laughs, and I have the strangest urge to turn and see if Gregory’s looking over here.
“Should I meet you somewhere that day?” I ask.
“I can pick you up before I head to the marina that morning. Around nine? That sound okay?”
I nod even though I die a little inside at the thought of getting up so early. For Myles Ford, it just might be worth it.
Shelby intercepts me as we’re all leaving, tossing a wave at Myles as he walks to his car, while pulling me in the other direction. She keeps darting glances behind her, as if making sure he’s out of earshot, and once we reach her car, she pins me with a stare. “Amelia. What the hell was all that?”
I’m in the middle of shaking out the tight braid my hair has been wrapped up in all day. “All what?”
“Whatever that was between Myles and Gregory? They kept, like, death-staring at each other. I know you and Myles have been dancing around something for a while, but Gregory, too? Do you have two guys fighting over you?”
“What? No! Gregory’s just a friend.”
“You sure about that?”
I pause. “Yes?”
She cocks one eyebrow like she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Seemed like more to me. And I think Myles agreed.”
“Well, you’re both wrong.” I check my watch, glad for the excuse to escape. “I gotta get going. We were late finishing up today, and I was supposed to meet my mom at the gallery five minutes ago. I heard some people are going to the pier tonight. See you there?”
“Fine, yes, I’ll see you later,” Shelby says, giving me a quick hug. “But don’t think I’m not gonna circle back on that Gregory guy. You’re a terrible liar, Amelia Madden.”